My Killer Vacation

I’m shaking my head. No.

I don’t know why, but I can’t let that happen.

Somehow I know slow and sweet with this woman would be even more catastrophic than hard and mean. And yet I’m removing my gun, setting it on the closest ledge.

“Taylor.” Why is my voice ragged? “Let’s fuck.”

“Uh-uh.”

“No?”

She leaves my erection resting in the V of my jeans and slowly, God, too slowly, she winds up the sides of her dress in her fists, puling the material up to her waist and leaving it there. Naked thighs. Hips. Her pussy that much closer…and covered in red lace panties.

She’s wearing the hookup panties.

In a church.

“You know I was only ever going to wear them for you, right?” she whispers.

I drop my face against the stone wall to the right of her head and moan. Louder when she starts jacking me off again, her hand moving a torturously methodical rhythm and my hips start to match it, grinding, rolling.

Stroke. Pause. Stroke. Pause. So light. Yet my rasping breath sounds like it’s coming from surround sound speakers in this stone echo chamber of a vestibule.

What is she doing to me?

“You make me feel safe and protected,” she whispers against my chin, then higher to my lips. “But at the same time, you make me feel like I can protect myself. Isn’t that kind of amazing?” She lays kisses along my jawline. “Aren’t you kind of amazing?”

She feels it.

The way my cock swells over her praise. Right there in her hand.

God knows I feel it, too.

I’ve acknowledged it before. The fact that I need this woman’s admiration. Her trust. And it’s so generous of her to give me those things despite my nature. The way I act. She saw through it all. She’s seeing me clearer than anyone ever has, right now, reciting a spell that is turning me to putty in her hands. I’m holding on to the wall for dear life, letting her wreck me one slide of her fist at a time. There’s a niggling urge to growl at her, tell her I don’t need compliments or praise. But I ignore it, teeth buried in my bottom lip, waiting to hear what she’ll say next.

Fine, twist my arm. I’ll start.

“You’re the amazing one,” I blurt. I’m not winning any awards for that one, but she likes it. The corners of her incredible mouth tilt up at the corners and she pumps me harder, making me hiss. “I miss you at night. When you’re sleeping.”

Her chest heaves faster. “You do?”

“Yes.”

These admissions are a bad idea. They’re going to come back to bite me in the ass. But it feels too fucking good to tell this woman the thoughts in my head. I could lay all the shit in my head at her feet and she would make it better. That truth is built of concrete. My feelings for her are even more solid. Titanium. No getting around that anymore.

Taylor rises up on her toes and brushes her lips over mine. Everything inside of me races around in anticipation. It has never, ever been like this. Not even one percent. I swear to God, by the time she finally kisses me fully on the mouth, I would die having to wait another second. She doesn’t make me, though. She opens her sweet, butterscotch-flavored mouth and invites my tongue inside with a teasing lick of her own. And I go, hungrily, turning my head right and coming at her from an angle, groaning into the slick ride of tongues. The kiss is a slow, thorough entrapment like everything else she’s doing—and I let her. I let her fucking own me. I sign my soul over, signature on the dotted line.

“Sweetheart,” I break away to pant against her forehead.

What am I asking for?

She knows. She knows.

Her right leg lifts and curls around my hip. Not easy with our height difference. Her left leg is still balanced on her big toe. So my arms automatically drop from the wall to support her. Left arm barred beneath her tush. Right hand holding her tits through the wet T-shirt, knuckling her pebbled nipples. “Move my panties out of the way,” she whispers unevenly, diving up into another kiss. Now there’s a worthy job for my right hand. Sliding my fingers from her breasts to the juncture of her thighs, I all but tear the red silk from her body in my haste to reveal that place, that place that feels more like home than anywhere I’ve ever lived.

And while she drugs me with long, sensual writhes of lips and tongue, she rubs the head of my cock against her entrance, letting me feel how wet she is. How horny.

“Fuck, baby, that’s so smooth.”

She nods into our kiss. “You should feel the inside of it,” she says, razing my bottom lip with her teeth. “Want to?”