He pulls me to him, kissing from my neck down to my breasts, and then lifts the sports bra up over my head. “Not yet,” he says. “Not yet. I need more of you.”
The foil packet falls into the leaves, and I let him lead me over to the tree, press me into the bark, and even though I have some sore spots from the fall, the discomfort is drowned out by excitement, by the rough texture of the bark against my skin, by his fingertips skating across my flesh. Every nerve ending lights up in anticipation. His fingers ease my lace panties down my legs, and I step out of them.
“Did you choose those for me?” he asks, his voice husky.
“I did,” I admit, only now admitting it to myself. Why else would a sane person choose lace panties for a walk through the woods?
He has me pressed to the tree now, and he stands back for a moment, still in his pants and those hiking boots, and just looks at me, naked but for my Toms.
And it’s easily the most erotic moment of my life.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, and from the look in his eyes he means it. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
I gasp at that because it’s so unexpected. So guileless. It’s tempting to make a glib comment about that sunrise he had such a hard-on for, but I don’t, because he’s spanned the distance between us. He starts at my mouth, kissing me hard, then weaves a trail of kisses down my body, his hand lowering between my legs as his mouth closes around my nipple, making me gasp as his fingers expertly find a place most men need a detailed map to get to. Then he’s lowering onto his knees before me, and his head is between my legs, and I feel like I’m climbing that mountain again, reaching the peak, with the beautiful layers of light and wildflowers and, and…
His name escapes my lips as I plunge a hand in his hair, holding him there, reveling in the heat of the moment and this man and that mountain whose peak I feel like I’m falling down from all over again.
Chapter Twelve
Cal
This isn’t baseball; you can get more than three strikes without having your personal information leaked. But if you fail to complete three challenges, you need to buy more. I recommend charging your sponsees a hundred dollars for three new strikes. They need another three after that? Two hundred. It’ll get expensive enough that they’ll have to change their ways.
—Augusta Glower, Bad Luck Club
Molly tastes so goddamn good. I kiss my way up her stomach to her breast, her hands still buried in my hair, holding on almost tight enough to hurt. I want her more than I’ve wanted a woman since I don’t know how long.
“I need you. Now,” she barks.
I laugh, amused but not surprised that she’s making demands. Maybe that’s part of why I’m so drawn to her. She knows what she wants, and she goes for it.
“I dropped the condom. Get it.”
Still laughing, I squat and search the ground, shuffling leaves around.
“Why are you still down there?” she moans. “I want to put it on you.”
The edge of desperation in her voice is doing nothing to calm my own urgency. “I can’t find it.”
“I dropped it right there,” she says as she points to the area I’m searching.
“Trust me, Molly,” I grunt in frustration, “no one wants me to find that package more than I do.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” She squats down next to me, and we both sweep our hands through the brush and leaves.
“Do you have another one?” I ask.
“Do you think I carry a multipack around?” she snorts. “That’s my just in case I see a hot guy and can’t resist him condom.”
I don’t doubt that she carries a condom in her wallet, but something about the way she says the last part makes me think she might have made sure she had one before she left this morning. Which only makes me more intent on finding the damn thing.
“Found it!” she shouts in triumph and holds up the foil package.
I laugh because she’s acting like she won a prize that’s all for her, and I’m just the lucky sap who gets to take the ride with her.
But then she stands and pulls me to my feet. Her hands rest on my chest, and she looks up at me with a grin that hints of wicked plans.
“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to use that thing?” I ask with one brow raised.
Her eyes hood with lust and her hands slide down my chest to the waistband of my sweatpants. “If I’m going to stand out here naked, you should too. It’s only fair.”
I can’t argue with her logic, so I hook my thumbs in the waistband of my pants and briefs and tug them down over my hips. But as they fall to my ankles, I realize I need to take off my boots if I want them all the way off.
I’m not taking the time to do that.
Molly’s hand wraps around my erection and firmly strokes, her thumb brushing over the head. There’s no hesitation in her touch, only the same raw need running through my veins like lava.
“Condom. Now,” I grunt as I try to take it from her, but she holds it out of my reach and then rips it open with her teeth.
It’s got to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, Molly naked in the woods, in nothing but those ridiculous strawberry-covered shoes and fragments of dried leaves stuck to her knees, while she rips open the condom package like she’s part feral.
It makes me feral too.
As soon as she rolls it on me, I cover her mouth with mine and slip my fingers between her folds.
She gasps in my mouth, and I love that I’ve caught her by surprise, especially since I suspect it takes a lot to surprise her.
She’s still wet, and she moans, letting me know she’s ready for me.
I lift her up so she’s straddling my hips, then walk forward a couple of steps until her back’s pressed to the tree.
With one arm wrapped around my shoulders to prop herself up, she uses her free hand to cup the side of my face as I adjust myself so I’m at her entrance.
I tip my face back, watching her pant and stare up at me in bewilderment.
“I want to watch you,” I growl, then slowly ease myself into her until I’m fully seated.
Her head tilts back, exposing her throat, but she’s watching me too, her chest flushed.
“God, you feel good,” I force out. Grabbing her hips, I slowly pull out, then push back in again. “Jesus.”
Her ankles lock behind my back as I plunge into her over and over, urged on by the needy press of Molly’s legs with each thrust. Demanding more of me. Pressure builds, and I’m aching for release, but she’s still climbing. Her eyes have fluttered closed, and she looks so damn gorgeous, it makes me want to be even deeper inside her.
She cries out, and I feel her tighten around me. I plunge one more time and then come, leaning my weight into her, burying my face into her silky hair.
When I pull back to look at her, she’s staring up at me with awe in her eyes, and I kiss her, because we both may have just come, but I still feel the need to possess her, to make her mine.
The thought stops me, and I lean back. This woman isn’t mine. She never will be. But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy what we just shared.