She hums some inexplicable, happy noise of fucking contentment that I love. “Sit down for me, Angel?”
Before I can straighten out my emotions or my words, she wraps her hands in my shirt, turning me like I’m a reluctant calf in the chute. I go willingly, my dick straining at my jeans. I get the feeling that if she stays here in Lonesome, I’ll still be jonesing for her in fifty years.
I love Rose Jordan.
That’s a fucking surprise, but maybe not a bad one. She pushes gently, and I park it obligingly on the picnic table where I found her.
There’s no explaining how I’ve wound up in this position, but here I am, seated on the table’s top, while she gets on my lap, facing away from me. That little distance sucks, although her position is also sexy as hell. I cup her hips with my hands to steady her.
“You still with me, Angel?” she asks, and I ease her hair away from her nape, exposing the pale curve of skin. She’s got white marks from bikini straps and that just makes me think about stripping her naked. Then she wriggles in, getting comfortable or something, and my brain stops thinking altogether.
She straddles me, draping her legs on either side of mine. Those long bare legs in too-short denim cut-offs kill me, and that’s before she sets her hands on my thighs.
I can feel the heat of her through my jeans. Hell, I’m about to shoot right out of those jeans.
She deserves a warning. “You’re playing with fire, darling.”
“And you don’t play at all.” She rocks forward and the pressure on my dick is a fiery burst of sensation. Hell. Yeah. Before I can catch my breath, she’s moving rhythmically, up and down, forward and back, and I’m fucking lost.
I get the button on her shorts open, my fingers exploring the edges of her silky little panties. Just barely touching her in a liquid tease as she rides me. Her breath catches as she really gets into what she’s doing, and then she makes a frustrated noise like it’s not enough.
I gotta get inside, need to be there with her. Scooping her up in my arms, I get off the table and set her at the edge. It only takes a moment to strip off her shorts and panties. Parting her thighs, I step between them, curving my hands around her ass as my thumbs sink into sweet, wet flesh.
“Angel.” The way she says my name, I think she’s okay with seeing me more. She’s okay with me, and something inside my chest loosens up, eases open. I don’t know what to say to her, but her hands are busy, too, opening my jeans and finding my dick.
She’s so fucking pretty. I watch her, drinking in the way her skin flushes and grow pinker, wetter. I’m the one who’s gonna make her come. I’m her man. We’re out in the open and anyone could come driving along that road, but Rose is all that matters now. I can’t stop now and find someplace else, not when I can make her scream my name.
Or fuck me, I might holler hers. I touch her, but I’m the one going up in flames. Truth is, I’m used to being right, to knowing exactly what the right thing to do is. I run tens of thousands of acres, and hundreds of men depend on me for everything. But the happiness, the sheer joy on Rose’s face? That’s something new, something I haven’t seen before. I feel like a real king now if I can put that look on her face today, tomorrow, and every day after.
She reaches for me and her fingers brush my dick. I fight the need to lean into her touch. That part of me knows where it belongs, but I don’t like being led. The damn memories won’t leave me alone. Other hands reaching, grabbing. Fucking holding me down and shoving me places.
I’m home, I remind myself. It’s daylight, and this is my girl. This is good stuff, not bad.
“Let me,” she whispers and I’ve got no idea what she sees when her eyes scour my face.
“Gotcha,” I whisper right back, rubbing my fingers through her slick, pouty folds. She’s everything good.
She wraps her fingers around me, and I’m almost too much for her too hold. The fact that I’m big hasn’t meant much, but now I’m glad. I’ll be enough.
“Angel?” Her palm slides up and it’s a good thing she knows my name, because I’ve fucking forgotten it. And then her palm return-trips it down my dick, cupping my balls. I’ve got no idea if I can let her take charge. If we do this my way, I lay her back on the table and finish what we started, but she asked me for something, and I’ll give her anything and everything. Whatever Rose needs, I provide. She wants me let go. To let her.
My dick’s onboard with the idea, but my dick’s turned traitor before. The fact that I’m tired of saying no to her counts for something, too. Her hand slides over me, learning me, fucking taming me and I’m good with it. I really am. Her pretty fingers wrapped around my flesh squeezes some part of me way too close to my heart for comfort. It’s the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen, the way she holds me, the sweet heat of her palms cupping me. Truth is, she’s already turned me inside out.