Her Last Wild Ride

My lower body throbbed — it was literally on fire. The back of the counter was digging into me, and he brought his hands up to cup my face, palms rough against my skin.

My hands were fisting in his hair, holding him close. Any hint of consideration was gone. The kiss morphed into heat and desperation and became fast and furious. Intoxicating. His tongue roughly stroked mine, dominating. I was just as demanding, sucking him in deep, teeth nipping and biting.

I was bent back over the service counter with the force of it, his arms wrapped tight around me now, my hands like claws in his hair. He tasted...amazing. Like my richest darkest fantasies.

He drew back for a moment to rest his forehead on mine and I was shocked at how fast we were both breathing. Already. I loosened my fingers in his hair.

He drew back more and straightened up but didn’t take his arms from around me. He looked at me and I felt dazed.

“Jesus, Ashling.” His voice sounded thick. I could feel his erection, imagined it straining against his jeans, and my mouth watered.

He reached out and took a lock of long blond hair between his fingers, pulling gently. “You’re so damn beautiful, do you know that?”

Men had given me compliments before but something about the way Johnny said it made me quiver inside. I tried to negate it by saying, “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

He looked at me and I saw something dangerous glint in those eyes. Perversely it comforted me.

“Take off your T-shirt.”

I liked the way he said that. Commanding. Reaching for the hem, I pulled it up and off, nipples already pebble hard and stinging with arousal. The T-shirt fell to the ground and my legs almost gave way when Johnny’s eyes fixed on my breasts. His hand went to where his dick was clearly outlined in the crotch of his jeans and he stroked it almost absently.

My bra was black and sheer, and I could imagine my nipples pushing against the thin material like offerings. He’d lifted me to sit on the counter behind me with such effortless ease that I was barely aware of what he was doing. And then I couldn’t think because his hands were on my hips and he was lodged between my legs and his mouth was on my breast, exploring the hard tip before suckling it through the sheer material.

I gasped. Some guys could suck my nipples for hours and give me nothing but a headache, but this... Christ...I hadn’t even realized I’d spoken out loud. Johnny’s mouth was alternately hard and then soft, teasing and forceful. Rough tongue licking and flicking the hard flesh, making me think of how it would feel between my legs.

He left one breast to tend to the other and I had to tense secret inner muscles for a second at the prospect of coming after so little stimulation, which had never happened to me before.

Then he undid my bra and pulled it off, and I shivered when the damp material pulled away from my wet skin. He cupped both breasts now, molding them with his big hands, calluses on his palms a toe-curling friction against my skin. Fingers pinched me, drawing my nipples even tighter and harder.

I bit my lip and then tried to reach for his T-shirt. He looked at me, eyes dark and slumberous.

“I want to see you, too.” My voice sounded far too needy to my ears.

He let me go to stand back for a moment, and between my legs spasmed as if to beg him to come back. My pussy was so engorged with blood and wet heat that I wondered if there was a damp patch in my jeans.

Johnny reached his arms over his head and pulled off his T-shirt from his back, forward. A very masculine move. And when he was revealed my mouth went dry. I think I stopped breathing for a long minute. Ripped was a word that was invented for what Johnny’s chest was. Beautifully muscled but lean and taut. Hairy, but with just a faint smattering across his pecs, which led down to that delicious line that dissected his six-pack.

His hands were on his jeans now. I would have insisted on undressing him but I was afraid my legs wouldn’t hold me up. Those big hands undid the buttons with excruciating slowness.

And then he was putting his hands to his jeans and pushing them down, taking his underwear with them. Crapping, crappity crap. I almost complained that he should have given me forewarning.

My eyes widened helplessly as Johnny stepped out of his clothes and kicked them aside. His dick was big enough to make my inner body tighten with anticipation and also tense because I wondered if he’d be too big.

Completely bizarrely, emotion gripped me, when emotion shouldn’t have been involved at all. I was terrified Johnny might see it, so I looked up at him and cocked a brow. “Well, I had no idea the boys from back home could be so...well hung.”

Johnny smirked. “You learn something new every day, darlin’.”

The emotion in my chest eased. I looked down again, fascinated. Veins ran along his shaft and he put a hand to it and stroked himself. The head was beautiful, bulbous, and I saw the telltale glisten of pre-come. I wanted to lick it. I was about ready to slither off the counter and land in a heap on the floor when he came over to me. And then his hands were on the buttons of my jeans, efficiently opening them.

“Lift your hips.”

Somehow I did, and he pulled my jeans down and off. I went to take off my panties, too, feeling greedy now, but he stopped me with a hand, coming close between my legs.

“No, leave them on. I thought about this when I was watching you that first night.”

“You did?”

His dick was too much of an enticement not to touch, and as our mouths met again, this time with a little less desperation, I wrapped my hand around him with relish, loving the feel of how stiff and thick he was. The hot silky skin sliding over and back under my fingers.