Kiss My Putt (Summersweet Island 1)

Fuck, is this even real life? Hearing her say that out loud is almost hotter than actually witnessing it and feeling it happen all around my cock.

My arms are around her, and I’m hugging the hell out of her before I can take my next rasping breath, holding her against me tightly, lifting her toes off the ground as she squeals. As soon as I set her back down, Birdie pulls her head back from next to mine and cocks it to the side with a smile as she looks up at me, her arms still wrapped around my shoulders.

“It was kind of awesome,” I finally admit with my own smile, clasping my hands together against her lower back and tugging her closer, wishing my brain could come up with better words to describe the earth-shattering experience of having sex with Birdie for the first time.

“It was perfect,” she sighs dreamily, making my heart melt in my damn chest. “I mean, you fucked me like a champ in the Birdie-launch hug position.” She winks, making my chest rumble with laughter against hers.

“I did do that, didn’t I?” I ask, wagging my eyebrows at her, one of my hands sliding down to squeeze her ass, because I can.

Shit… because I can. I can grab Birdie’s ass, and I can hold Birdie in my arms, and we can talk about fucking up against a wall like it’s totally normal… because it is now.

“Go on a date with me tonight.”

I tell her; I don’t ask.

Because I can now.

Because she’s finally fucking mine.

“Okay. What time and what should I wear?” She smiles up at me without argument.

Because she doesn’t have to anymore.

Because she knows she’s finally fucking mine.CHAPTER 20Birdie

“After 18 holes I can barely walk.”Palmer: I think I have a problem.

Birdie: Did you jerk off AGAIN? My God, man, we just had sex an hour ago. You DO have a problem. They have addiction centers for that, you know.

Palmer: You’re hilarious. Now don’t you feel bad for denying my request of taking a shower together so we could conserve water and forcing me to go back to my own cottage to get ready for our date? Also, I remember hearing something about someone else having a diddling problem recently.

Birdie: Stop saying diddling. It’s weird when you say diddling.

Palmer: You like a little diddly-do in your diddling dungeon, do ya?

Birdie: I am never having sex with you again.

Palmer: I have something in my pants that I believe will change your mind.

Birdie: Your wallet?

Palmer: I think I liked it better when you were so full of my giant cock that you couldn’t speak other than moaning my name. Remember that fun time? We should do that again.

Palmer: Ha! No answer. Diddly-do says what?

Birdie: OMG cut it out! I’m trying to finish putting my makeup on.

Birdie: And slide my warm, nimble fingers down inside my wet panties to play with myself a little. #multitasking

Palmer: You want to kill me, don’t you?

Birdie: Why are you still texting me? Aren’t you supposed to be picking me up in like, ten minutes? Are you even going to put in any effort to look pretty for this date?

Palmer: Shit. Why WAS I texting you? You are a distraction, woman. Oh yeah, that’s right. I was checking my email after I got out of the shower and something came through that I wanted to see if you saw. Anyway, we can talk about it later, no big deal. I’ll let you get back to it. Gotta go pick up my hot date in a few minutes.

“Wow, a stroll along Summersweet Lane for our first date… how original,” I tease, squeezing Palmer’s hand in mine as he swings them back and forth between us while we walk.

I’m actually glad we’re doing something easy and casual like grabbing a bite to eat in town and just walking around. I’m not going to lie; I was more than a little nervous about this date, which was just ridiculous. This man had already been inside me, and I was freaking out about him picking me up and taking me somewhere.

I mean… an actual date with Palmer Campbell. I felt like I was fifteen all over again and I couldn’t believe my best friend liked me and wanted to take me on a date. Or I was seventeen, or twenty, or twenty-five, or every single year since the day I met him and had to suffer through the friend-zone. I couldn’t wrap my head around it all through my shower and the entire time I got ready, even though I dreamed about it a million times, and even though I was still deliciously sore from what we did in that shed. Every step I took walking around my bedroom, trying to find something to wear, reminded me I had no reason to be nervous about anything. His dick had just been in my vagina. That’s about as close as two people can get, and the nerves should be long gone.