Southern Player (Charleston Heat 2)

Lord above is he a sight. Thick thick thick, torso wrapped in strong muscles and a flat, broad belly. Veins snaking down his enormous arms, his biceps bulbous and firm.

He’s also kinda…

Hairy.

A good bit of wiry, reddish-dark-blonde hair that starts at his chest and trails down his belly. Darkening—thickening—at his abdomen above his jeans.

Wrong that I like it?

Because I do. I actually love it. There’s something wonderfully imperfect about it.

Very who-gives-a-fuck.

Makes me feel like real is the MO in Luke’s bed. Nothing perfect. Nothing forced. Just real connection and real orgasms.

He’s looking down at me. The blue in his eyes slicing through my middle.

The blue and his need and the hairy chest—

It’s so great.

He wraps his hand around the back of my right knee and guides it down to the bed. Spreading me open.

“Show me,” he bites out. “Pull those panties to the side so I can see your cunt.”

I bite my lip. My nipples are hard and I’m wet—so wet—and my skin is burning.

I hesitate. This is usually the point in the hook-up when I start to get really pensive. What if I smell? What if I reach for him instead? Put the focus on him, because penises are so much easier and more straightforward than vaginas?

What if he doesn’t like what he sees?

But the way Luke is looking at me—eyes narrowed, skin beside them crinkling happily—it overpowers those questions.

Fills my head with a voice instead.

Fuck that noise.

His voice? Mine?

Either way, I find myself reaching down and doing as he tells me. My body jumps when my fingers feather against my clit.

I moan. This strangled, small sound.

Luke looks positively murderous.

I loop my finger around the crotch of my underwear. I am swollen and soft against the back of my finger.

Then I pull the lace aside. Hissing as cool air meets my hot flesh.

Luke looks at me there.

His nostrils flare.

Grip on my knee tightens.

“So pretty,” he mutters, putting his other hand on his erection. “Gracie, baby, you got the most beautiful little pussy I ever seen. Show me how wet you are.”

I swallow.

“How,” I pant, “do I do that?”

Luke’s hand—the one on my knee—slides to my ankle. Spreads me wider as he climbs between my legs, still on his knees.

Then.

Then he leans down and settles himself on his forearms, the muscles in his shoulders bulging. His head in prime pussy-eating position.

My pulse takes off at a sprint.

He ducks down and trails his lips across the inside of my knee. Starts moving toward my center, bending my leg—spreading me wider—as he bites and licks his way up my thigh. Beard scratching my skin.

“I want you to finger yourself. One finger only. The middle one.”

This time, I don’t even think about it. His commands are taking me out of my head and putting me firmly inside my body.

A body that very much wants more of this.

I’m so wet my finger sinks easily inside me.

My clit throbs. Begging to be touched.

The scent of my arousal blooms between us.

His nostrils flare again. Fire in his eyes as he moves closer to the source.

“Now another finger. The first one. That’s it. Now thrust them. Get them nice and wet. Good girl.” His eyes are on mine again. “Now I want you to put your fingers in my mouth.”

My fingers go still.

This is lewd.

This is something I would’ve never in a million years attempted with Nick.

But with Luke?

Seems natural. The energy between our bodies—it’s got this earthiness.

This ease.

Luke nips at the tendon that connects my leg and groin. He sits up, leaning in to glide his lips across mine.

“Baby girl, you best give me what I want. Right now.”

Holy shit this is hot.

So fucking hot. And dirty. And delicious.

My gaze latched onto his, I pull my fingers away from between my legs. Reach up and press them to his lips.

“Like this?” I whisper.

In reply, he opens his mouth. Draws my fingers inside, lapping at me with his tongue. The inside of his mouth feels hot and slick.

Then he sucks.

Gently at first. Then a little harder. Then harder still. No need to tell me he likes the taste.

Because he’s showing me he likes it, very much.

I start rolling my hips. Maybe because I’m imagining it’s my clit he’s sucking on.

Luke smirks. He puts his hand on my side, thumb brushing possessively across my bare belly.

He releases my fingers with a groan, and then he’s reaching down, tugging at my thong, and I lift my hips to help him take it off.

And just like that, I am completely, utterly, entirely bare.

Luke goes still—he downright freezes—when he takes in my body.

The hard-edged desire in his expression softens. Brow furrows, blue intensifies.

He swallows. Smooths his hand down my side. His touch gentle and slow and almost—

Reverent.

And the look on his face when he guides his fingers over the narrow strip of my pubic hair, over my swollen labia, is almost—