Swing (Landry Family 2)

“You would be getti

ng fucked if you weren’t so hard-headed,” he whispers in my ear. His fingers roll over and over the swollen bud. “That’s what you really want, isn’t it? You’re imagining my cock, the same one that’s hard as fuck right behind your ass, sliding inside you. You’re thinking about what it would feel like as it swells while buried in your pussy.”

“Fuck you,” I moan, rocking my hips to meet his hand.

“Next time. Next time, I promise.”

My vision is blurred, the build-up quickening, ready to boil over. I suck in a breath.

“You feel so good on my fingers,” he says against my ear. “So fucking wet. I can’t imagine what you would feel like riding my cock.”

“Oh, hell,” I moan again as he gives my clit a final flick and sinks his fingers into my opening once again. He wastes no time stroking in and out of me, his pace in beat with my stuttered breaths. My hands grip the sides of his muscled thighs. They flex as my fingers drill through the cotton and into the muscled flesh beneath. “Landry”

“Come for me, baby,” he growls in my ear.

“Just like that? Do it just like that . . . Ah!” My head jerks to the side as my body clenches around his fingers. A dozen lights explode in my vision. He maintains his pace as I come apart. “I can’t! Lincoln! I can’t! My Godddddd. . . .”

His chest rumbles and I figure he’s chuckling at my outburst, but I can’t hear him over the roar of blood in my ears. Slowly, I begin my descent back to earth. As if he understands my body, he eases his tempo, and as I still against him, stops.

My hair is a wild mess, my head buried beneath his chin. I’m so content, so beautifully tired, that I want to curl up on his lap and go to sleep. He brushes my hair off my face and kisses my forehead.

After everything that just happened, that’s what wakes me back up to reality: the kiss on the forehead. The sweet, delicate kiss on the forehead sends off warning shots in my brain. Even so, I have to literally count to three in my head to make myself sit up, stand, straighten out my clothes, and step off the picnic table.

When I turn back around, he’s still sitting there. His elbows on his knees, bent forward. “You good?”

“If you’re asking if I enjoyed that, I did,” I smile.

He laughs. “I already knew that. I’m asking if you’re okay now.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Call it a guess.”

Sighing, I stick a hand on my hip, hoping it makes me look nonchalant. “I’m fine. Deliciously tired after that little workout.” Glancing between his legs, I pull my gaze back to him. “Are you okay?”

He leaps off the table so he’s standing beside me. “I’m great.”

“But you’re still hard,” I say, pointing to the protrusion sticking from his pants. “I kind of feel like I should apologize. Or, you know, return the favor.”

My mouth waters at the thought of taking him in, showing him the attention he just showed me. That’s dashed as he shakes his head.

“Nope. That was perfect.”

“But . . .”

“That happens to be the best thing I’ve ever watched.”

“Oh, come on,” I laugh, heading towards my car. Why I’m blushing now, after what he just did to me, I don’t know. But I am.

“Can I see you again?”

I glance over my shoulder. His cheeks are pink, his hat sitting off-balance on his head.

“Did I tell you Dr. Manning came by my office to see if I knew who you were?” I ask.

“Who in the hell is Dr. Manning?”

“The guy that got off the elevator. In the scrubs. Remember? He asked if you were Lincoln Landry?”