Stripped Down

When our lips meet, I take control even as the rain coming down around us slows. I should get her inside the truck and out of the rain, but my plan devolves into kissing and kissing her, devouring her, my lips parting hers. She opens, and I get my tongue inside her mouth. Stroking and tasting, I learn every inch of her. My Rose is fucking sweet. Her scent wraps around me, surrounding me every bit as much as her sexy little whimpers.

I’m too rough. I should slow down, go gentle. Instead, I hitch her up, her thighs splitting around my waist, my hands cupping her butt. I line my dick up against her denim-covered pussy and she feels even better than I remembered. My pulse is banging in my ears, almost as hard as my dick, and I fight the urge to take her down to the ground and fuck her hard.

But I’m sliding up and down, pushing my dick into her hot little pussy as much as her shorts will let me in. I grip her hips with my hands, and I fuck myself with her. Or maybe she’s using me, because she’s making sounds, sexy, needy, whimpering sounds that sound like heaven and a symphony orchestra. Or maybe it’s just the soundtrack to our own personal sex tape, because I shove my fingers underneath her shorts and she’s hot and wet and I’m completely undone.

I inch my fingers higher, trace the edge of her panties. Jesus. My imagination’s running riot. I want to rip her shorts off, see for myself what she’s hiding from me. Feels like lace and something silky. She catches my lower lip with her teeth, nipping, and I growl. Pleasure follows the brief sting.

I get my fingers underneath her panties.

She freezes, pulling back and sucking in air as if to clear her head and get free of me. Not happening. She’s let me in. She doesn’t lose me now, because I need her to hang onto me like she does everything else in her life.

“Don’t,” I growl. “Don’t stop, Rose. We’re not friends.”

I see the small shock of surprise in her eyes as she struggles to process my words. “Angel—”

“You’re gonna come for me now,” I tell her and stroke her sweet, hot pussy from top to bottom. She’s soaking wet and my dick jerks.

“Not friends?” she echoes.

“Not friends.” I touch her again, and she’s so close. She’s so close. I can feel the tiny tremors rippling through her pussy. “Lovers.”

I wouldn’t mind being her friend, but it has to be a too thing. I slide my fingers deeper, working her pussy. Finding her clit and rubbing it. I want her so bad, and it seems she feels the same way. I’m working her, petting her, learning what makes her moan and push against my hand. My fingers dance over her wet folds fucking worshipping her.

“Come,” I whisper roughly. “Come for me, baby.”

She jerks against me, and I feel the tiny spasms starting and then she locks her thighs around my hand, holding me close. Holding me in place as if I’d fucking leave her now. I’d like to capture each happy, greedy sound she makes, the sweet, salty scent of her on my fingers. She’s so perfect.

I’ve never been one for cuddling. I don’t like the sensation of other bodies pressed up against mine anymore. Fucking memories. But when Rose relaxes against me, it’s all good. I tuck her against me, leaning back against the truck and watching her, the sky, my ranch. Her breathing evens out, and I breathe with her.

Right when I’m starting to think she’s fallen asleep, she looks up, a mischievous grin lighting up her eyes.

“How about friends with benefits?” She loops her arms around my neck, and I grunt. I’m no good with labels. The rain disappears, sweeping over the next hill. The low growl of the thunder fades, and all that’s left is the scent of wet ground, wet metal and the very wet woman in my arms. This is worth coming home for.

She peeks up at me, and I don’t know what she expects. My face is no book. I don’t come with instructions when I don’t fucking understand myself. I’ve had my fingers in her pussy though, and now she has one hot cowboy on her hands. When I get her back to the house, I’m gonna be inside her too, the way she’s somehow inside me.

There are moments you remember. Like when your team pulls it out in the final seconds of a game you want badly, and the ball is through the uprights, straight and true, and the crowd’s on its feet, roaring. Rose is my game that I have to win, and my heart’s making all kinds of noise. No matter what comes next, I’ve got this new memory and I like the thought of it shoving one of the bad ones away to make room for Rose.

We should head back, but I’m not ready yet. I might as well go all out. Scooping her up, I set her on her feet.

“Dance with me.”