They made their way out the back and loaded the old washing machine from the 50s. While he plugged it up to a small generator, she added the soap powder. He shut the lid and it fired up.
“And now we wait.”
“Where did you even find this thing? I haven’t seen anything like this since Leave it to Beaver.”
“It’s amazing what you can acquire on the internet for a price.”
“I can imagine.”
“How long do we have?”
Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her to him. “Long enough.” He cupped her chin and lowered his head. He nipped her full bottom lip, then soothed the tender flesh with the tip of his tongue. He traced the curve, slipping his tongue into her parted lips. Her breathy sighs made him strain against his zipper. He deepened the kiss, getting drunk off her open responses.
She fisted his shirt and rose on her tiptoes, tilting his head as she sought more. He ran his hands down her back to cup her bubble butt. Kneading the supple flesh, he trailed his kisses down her graceful neck. The need to sample every inch of her soft skin drove him. She buried her fingers in his hair. Chills ran down his spine. The washer stopped its cycle, and he nuzzled her hair, breathing in her scent.
“We should get that,” he rasped.
“As soon as the world stops spinning.”
He laughed. “I rocked your world, huh?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Finch. It was the lack of oxygen that did me in.”
“Liar.”
She giggled. He hugged her and stood her upright, slapping her ass.
“Oh.” She jumped. “You keep tempting me with a good time and the laundry won’t get done.”
Her dark gaze smoldered with the promise of passion.
“I’ll stop because I need the rest of the day to even scratch the surface of what I want to do with you.”
The energy between them ramped up as their hands brushed while they rinsed out their clothing, ran them through the wringer, and hung them on a line. The sight of her small, lacy, pink panties had him thinking wicked thoughts. When the last article of clothing was hung, he scooped her up bridal style.
She squealed. “No. I’m too heavy.”
“You’re just right,” he said. There was no pretense as they moved into the house and up the stairs to his loft. As soon as he lowered her, she scrambled onto the bed. He followed her, crawling on the bed and on top of her curvaceous frame. He pinned her in with an arm on either side of her head and attacked her neck, sucking the skin into her mouth. He needed to leave behind evidence of his presence. She made him feel possessive.
“I want to see you.”
She nodded her head and he slowly stripped her down, revealing her lush body, concave belly, and firm breasts. He palmed her breasts and sucked a fat brown nipple into his mouth, rolling the other turgid peak between his fingers.
“Oh, yes.”
He took as much as he could into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks. She rocked her hips against him, brushing her wet pussy against his waist. The sticky trail she left behind made his dick jump.
“So responsive and wet.” He kissed his way down her body, sucking her skin into his mouth, leaving a path of hickeys in his wake. “I like the way my marks look on you. Do you?”
Lifting up on her elbows, she looked down and moaned, “Yes.”
He bit down on her hip and trailed his tongue down the crease between her thigh and her pelvis as he inhaled her feminine musk.
Her core was covered with a neatly trimmed patch of dark hair that glistened with her juices. His tongue wanted to taste, but he planned on wringing every bit of pleasure possible out of her, so he avoided the place he wanted most. He switched to the opposite side, nipping at her inner thigh.
She whimpered, “Thorn. Don’t tease.”
“You ready for me, baby?”