Hottest Mess (SIN 2)

"I'm not laughing." He's not. In fact, the humor in his voice has been replaced by a low, burning heat. His hand is midway up my thigh now, so close to my core that I'm practically shaking with anticipation. "Someone doesn't want to cut off her options," he says as he gently tugs on my thigh, urging me to spread my legs. "Tell me why."

Considering I'm losing the ability to form words, I find his demand entirely unreasonable. My skirt is up over my knees now, and I'm not wearing panties--those are probably still on the floor of the cabana. That means that with my legs spread, I'm completely open--and the cool night breeze against my hot, wet pussy feels beyond incredible.

"Jane." His fingertip traces along the soft skin between my pubis and my thigh. "Tell me why you want to keep the option open. Why you might want to slide your hand between your legs and stroke yourself while you watch me bite some other woman's nipple." As if in illustration, he strokes his finger over me from clit to core and I whimper from the incredible pleasure of it.

"Tell me," he demands again.

"Because I do like it." My voice is a whisper at first. "Even tonight, it was hot. I hated that I liked it, but I did. I just ..."

"You didn't want to share."

"Now that you're mine--"

"I am yours," he says, pushing his fingers deep into me.

"I know." I move my hips, my body on a mission to draw him in further. Harder. "And I don't want to share." I tilt my head so that I can meet his eyes. "Not yet, anyway. But later. When I feel more certain, I--" I drop my eyes again. Another thing I hadn't intended to admit.

"Are you not certain about how I feel?"

"No." I blurt the word out. There is no doubt in my mind that Dallas loves me. Fully. Completely. Even pain

fully. "Never."

"Then you mean the future."

I nod.

"We'll make this work."

I want to ask how, but I don't. I just nod. "You're everything I want," I say. "You know that, right?"

"I know it, because I feel the same way."

"And I don't share my toys easily." I shift, sliding off his fingers as I rise up so that I can move to straddle his lap. "I'm pretty much a greedy little bitch."

"Oh, really? How greedy?"

"Very." I slide my hand down his chest and press my palm against his very stiff cock. "Very greedy."

His hand moves to my waist. "Come with me into the shed."

"No. Here."

His brow lifts. "Someone might see."

I take the hem of my blouse and tug it over my head, leaving me in only my sandals, skirt, and a very skimpy bra. "Only if they get through the hedge."

"Interesting," he murmurs as his hands move to my breasts, tugging the lace down so that I am fully exposed.

"What?" I reach behind and draw down the zipper on my skirt. I don't want to get off his lap even for a second, and so I lift the skirt over my head as well, then toss it onto the side of the bench with my shirt.

"This." He looks me up and down, his expression as hot and hard as his cock. "There's a bit of an exhibitionist in you." He leans forward and runs his tongue over my nipple. "I like it."

I shiver, as much from his touch as from his words. The truth is that I like it, too. And not just because the cool breeze on my hot skin feels delicious. I like the fantasy of discovery. Of having someone see us and realize what they're seeing. Who they are seeing.

I like the fantasy that our secret has been revealed and that, for better or for worse, we're no longer living in shadows and we just have to move forward and deal, all the hiding over. All the secrets finished.

I like the fantasy, yes. But the reality scares me to death.