The Loner's Lady
I don’t know what’s happening to me, but my skin is unbearably sensitive. I feel every blade of grass touching my bottom; his calloused hands deliver zings to my core every time they shift on my knees. Sex. I’m having sex. With John. This gargantuan loner with a tender heart and gruff personality. And while looking him in the eye and seeing my expression of rapture reflected back, suddenly my heart is positive I was always meant to end up with this man. He’s my soul mate.
“Make love to me,” I say breathily, lifting my hips to tempt him.
He pins them with his own, growling and delivering a mean thrust—but I can see he can’t help being forceful. Can see his control has deteriorated. Good. On the next rough invasion of my body, I dig my fingernails into his shoulders and hold on tight, sensing an oncoming storm. That’s exactly what I get.
John falls on me with a desperate sound, releasing hot, rasping breaths into my neck with each slap of his hard sex entering my wet one. He grunts and sweats on top of me, pushing filthy words through his teeth. Words that thrill me because I know they’re borne of pure lust. For me and my body.
“Come hiking with me in this short skirt? What did you think was going to happen? You barely made it off the porch, little girl. How dare you bring this bratty little pussy into my house? Might as well have had my goddamn name stamped on it. Almost bent you over the kitchen table and fucked you in front of my son. Jesus, this cunt is tight as sin. Go on, sweetness. Moan louder. No one’s going to hear you.”
And on and on it went, his coarseness building along with this shimmery bubble inside me. My eyes fly open when John adjusts his angle slightly, allowing the veiny trunk of his erection to slide against my clit—and oh! Everything twists and trembles below my belly button and I find my ankles wrapped around the small of John’s back. I’m grinding up into his drives and the rhythm changes my life forever. We’re animals rutting in the dirt and I love it. I never want it to stop…
Except maybe long enough for me to get relief. “I need…” I sob. “John, I need…make it stop!”
“Don’t worry, sweetness. It’s coming. That pussy is pulsing like a dream. Just hold on to me—”
My scream of ecstasy cuts him off. Cuts everything off, save the incredible clenching of my flesh, the flood of bliss and completion. I squeeze John’s hips between my thighs and spout nonsense that he seems to understand, because his mouth finds mine and kisses me through the upheaval.
And then he throws back his head and roars like he’s king of the jungle.
His beautiful face, surrounded by his mane of hair, blocks out the sun and if I had any breath left to catch, it would have caught at the sight of him. He’s the ultimate male and I’ve been claimed by him.
His release fills me up and laps up onto my belly, splashes onto my inner thighs, and he keeps pumping, making desperate sounds deep in his throat, going back and forth between desperate animal and sated warrior. Until finally he falls onto me, catching himself at the last second on an elbow. Leaning down to kiss me tenderly on the mouth. “Lyssa,” he whispers, sounding awed.
I know the feeling.
But as we lie there in the meadow, my butt tucked into John’s lap, his breathing evening out in my hair, I remember Mason back at the house. I’ve just betrayed the person who trusts me most in this world. No matter that we’re not actually together and never could be—he asked me for a favor and I couldn’t even manage it for one single day.
How will I bear looking him in the eye? How will I tell him I’ve not only slept with his father, but fallen in love as well?
Once I come clean, he won’t want to see me.
He’ll be disgusted with me.
So I decide to save Mason the trouble of driving back to New York with a traitor. As soon as I get back to the cabin, I’m getting out of Dodge. In time, maybe I have a chance of my best friend forgiving me, but if that’s going to happen, I can’t be in a relationship with John. It just won’t fly.
Tears drop from my eyes into the grass at the realization that I’ll never be held in these strong, perfect arms again.
How will I live without this man now that I know he exists?
CHAPTER SIX
John
Lyssa was quiet on our walk back to the cabin and I didn’t like it.
Something is up.
She let me hold her hand and stop to make out at least a dozen times, but there was a certain light missing from her eyes. As soon as we walked through the front door, she dashed up the stairs, claiming she needed a shower—and I couldn’t really doubt her on that one. Anyone with eyes could see the sticky, pink-tinged trails tracking down the insides of her thighs. Hell, the sight alone made me hard again on the walk home.