The forest sighed around us, and I explored him. I nuzzled his Adam’s apple with my nose. Ran my palms along his chest, over his broad shoulders, around the back of his neck and up through his thick hair. I moved down his side and over his waist, brushing the ridges of his six-pack with my thumbs. I loved the scratch of his beard and the firmness against every part of me that was soft. He was so male—hard and hot and virile. Every time he moved, his scent shifted, an intoxicating pheromone that drew me in closer, made everything him.
It was like getting used to cold water. Climbing in a little at a time until you were submerged and warm and ready to swim.
And I was…
When my hands slid across his lower back, I pulled him into me and moved my hips against the length that lay across my stomach. His breath went ragged.
An instant electric tension rolled between us. Everything changed. His tender kisses turned serious, and I felt a surge of heat between my legs. I peeled off my tank top, and his mouth was on my naked skin before the shirt was over my head.
A calloused hand glided up my side and cupped my breast. Then he came back up to my lips and his tongue plunged into my mouth. I nipped at his bottom lip, and he bit me back, releasing me only to devour me again.
There was something more focused than the last time we’d found ourselves this close. That time in my living room had been playful. This was something else. There was something hungrier about it. Needier.
I wanted him.
I parted my knees and let him settle between my thighs. He shifted down so the tip of him pressed right into me through our underwear. The tease was a little maddening—and I think he knew it. It strained against me right where it would slide in effortlessly if there was nothing between us, almost like he was saying, “If we take these off, you can have this.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice.
I hooked my thumbs at the top of his boxers, yanking them down. He kicked them off and put fingers under the waist of my underwear. He paused breathlessly, waiting for permission, and I nodded against his mouth, lifting my hips.
I’d never been so turned on by the feel of satin sliding down my legs. There was something so carnal about him doing it. His fingernails scraped against my skin in his hurry, and it made me more turned on to know how turned on he was, like he couldn’t get me naked fast enough.
His hand went down to guide himself into me, and I couldn’t wait to feel him. I held my breath for the moment he would glide in—but he hovered over me and circled himself in the wetness along the outside of my opening instead, holding my eyes. Just the tip in, then out, teasing me for a flicker of a second in just the right spot. In, then out. Circle, repeat. Circle, repeat.
It felt amazing—and it also drove me mad. It made me want to claw at his back, pull him inside me.
Circle, repeat. Circle, repeat.
He watched me as he did it, like he wanted to see how much I liked it.
My breath launched, and I began panting.
I ran my hands up his chest, and he tipped his head down and sucked a finger into his mouth. Need ripped through me like a wildfire.
I realized suddenly that much like the Jaxon Waters thing, Jason had underplayed yet another one of his abilities. When we’d been making out on my sofa, I could tell that he knew things, but my God did he know things. He knew exactly how to touch me.
Circle, repeat. Circle, repeat.
An orgasm was building, but every time I felt close to coming, he’d pull away and it was just enough to stop my momentum. He had to know what he was doing. And every time he did it, I wondered if this would be the time he’d go all the way in or would he pull out again and start over, make me a fraction wilder than the last time? The anticipation was making my legs shake.
I thought I’d been ready for him a moment before, but now I realized I didn’t know what ready was. I was drenched. I had no idea how he was maintaining this discipline. I could see how much he wanted me, feel how hard he was. All he had to do was let go.
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Sloan,” he said, his voice husky. “We can stop at any time.”
I couldn’t stop, he knew I couldn’t stop. He was teasing me within an inch of my sanity. I felt like some sex-crazed teenager.
This was the kind of turned on that clouded judgment. This was the level of horny that got a girl pregnant on prom night in the back seat of a car. I always considered myself immune to that kind of frenzy—mostly because I was usually too self-conscious for it, especially for a first time. My first times had always been slow and careful, getting to know someone’s body. It was always a little awkward and weird, and so I’d expected this time to be a little awkward and weird—but all of that was out the window now. I didn’t care anymore what noises or faces I made, I didn’t care that he was hovering over me, openly looking down at my naked body. He’d pushed me beyond inhibition—and maybe that was the point. Now all I wanted was that tip to go all the way in.
That tip…
I wanted to do things to it. Taste the bead of moisture I knew he had there. Put it in my mouth, feel it bump my throat. I was already making plans for next time, imagining all the ways I’d make him crazy like he was making me crazy.
Why was he doing this? Why was he making me wetter and more frustrated when he could feel and see that I was ready? What did he want from me?
“I want you inside me,” I breathed.
And that’s what he was waiting for. I watched his control break. He crashed his lips down on mine and slid into me.
It was instant pleasure. A payoff bigger than anything I could have ever imagined, a wait beyond worth it.
His first thrust hit some inner wall I didn’t even know I had. It sent shock waves of ecstasy through my whole body. Then he did it again. And again. And again.
I gasped under him, frantically rolling my hips against him.
I liked the way he circled between my thighs. I put my hands on his back to feel him moving, and I had the sex-clouded realization that I should have done this with him days ago. That I’d slept next to this man in his trailer and not taken advantage of what he could do to my body if I’d just let him. I wanted to go back in time and yank that pillow out from between us and climb onto his lap and ride him. I wanted to go back and let him take me on my sofa, let him carry me inside on our first date, the same way I wanted to go back and let him sing to me sooner. How many moments like this had I already missed because of my own stupid hesitations and rules and reservations?
And then it occurred to me that’s why he’d taken me to this edge. Why he’d made me want him to the point of insanity, until the only answer could be yes. Because he knew how I was, and he was getting ahead of me now before my overthinking kicked in.
I would have laughed if I wasn’t so out of my mind.
He hiked an elbow behind my knee and somehow managed to drive himself deeper. I let out a sound that made me grateful there was no one within two miles to hear it, and he released a moan of his own. I knew he was close. His body went rigid as he neared the end, and the orgasm that he’d been working me up to built and built on top of itself. And then, when he groaned and I felt the warm pulsing inside me, my climax tipped over and decimated me.
It was the fireworks finale on the Fourth of July, a dam breaking, an atomic bomb. I was leveled. I had nothing left after it. I couldn’t even move.