He was on me then, picking up my keys and handing them to me, “These aren’t going to work.”
“Why not? They’re my keys!” I said indignantly, trying to back away from him.
“Yeah, but that’s my truck you’re trying to drive off in. The keys are in it if you want to take a joyride,” he said.
I whipped around to look at the vehicle, and sure enough, it was a three-quarter ton work truck, not my Honda Civic. I must have been really distracted to confuse the two.
“I have no objection if you want to climb in my cab,” he said suggestively. I should have thought he was a sleaze for saying so. I think the difference wasn’t his word choice so much as how much I wanted his cock in me right then.
I tried to sort out my brain and say something and get out of this, but he was there, his body, hulking, casting a shadow over mine. His hand braced on the truck window beside my head, backing me up into it. I pressed myself against the fiberglass door, the heat it absorbed from being in the sun all day too hot through my clothes. I squirmed, and he took my hand again.
He laid my hand on his arm, “See, this isn’t where you touched me,” he said, moving it up to his shoulder. “This is. Yeah, right there,” he said, shutting his eyes for an instant as if it felt so good he was overcome.
I held up my other hand, offered him my wrist, “This is where you kissed me.”
“That isn’t the only place I want to kiss you, Layla. You have to know that,” he said it almost brokenly.
“Where?” I whispered, breathless.
“Everywhere. Don’t make me say it. You know,” he said.
I felt the slickness between my legs in response. The air was so thick between us. I felt lightheaded, as if I’d pass out if he didn’t kiss me. “Is this the only place you wanted to touch me?” he said.
“No,” I said, shaking my head, “it isn’t.”
“Where?” it was his turn to ask.
I lifted my hand to his face, to the rough stubble along his jaw that made me part my lips hungrily. I rubbed my thumb across his lips, felt the heat of his breath fan across the pad of my thumb. I found myself breathing in and out in sync with him, everything around me narrowing to one point, to our matched breathing and his hand on my wrist and my fingers splayed along his jaw. The spikes of stubble on his face dug into my skin, sharp yet somehow welcome.
For a tense moment, we stood there as if locked in place, touching but not kissing, hands still as if soaking up the heat of one another. It felt like stepping into the warm sunlight from chilly shade in spring. I took a deep breath, suspecting I’d need it. I flicked my gaze up to meet his eyes, and his intensity rocked me back on my heels. I was glad to be up against the truck for support. I might have staggered backward from the impact of that look, heavy with sexuality and anticipation.
Waiting hungrily for his kiss, I seemed suspended, unable to form words or to break the heated gaze between us. Tyler took my wrist, the one encircled by his big fingers, and lifted it to his mouth, kissed it softly. My eyes dropped shut of their own accord, wanting to block out every other sense and concentrate on his touch.
“Does closing your eyes make it better? Or is that only with pie?” he said, his voice teasing. I smirked at him.
Tyler pressed closer to me, flattening me against the side of his truck. I could feel every hard angle and every muscle of his body through his worn jeans. His knee was between my legs and his hand touching my throat, tipping my chin up. Then he was kissing me. It didn’t start tentatively with a brush of lips, any shy hello. All at once, Tyler was everywhere and everything, blocking out any thought or perception beyond his body on mine. His mouth worked mine expertly, parting my lips, kissing me passionately until I found myself sucking his tongue, holding on to his shoulders, holding my own, kissing him back as good as he gave it.
His arm snaked around my waist and pulled me against him, dragging me from the support of the truck to being plastered on Tyler’s chest. Not that I was complaining. His chest was magnificent, big and broad and powerful. Being clutched against him made me feel like a babe on the cover of a bodice ripper. Normally I felt too tall, too much. But he made me feel diminutive, girlish. I ran my hands up behind his neck and held on as he plundered my mouth. I could feel him feel the thick hardness of his cock on the inside of my thigh. I noticed after a few breathless minutes that his cock was rubbing the inside of my thigh because I was grinding on his leg, the same leg he’d pressed between my knees what seemed like hours ago when we started kissing. This was no innocent, sweetheart’s kiss. This was making out and practically humping him against a truck. I felt wild with abandon, out of control. I pulled back and set about disentangling myself from him. The crazed, heart-hammering feeling didn’t go away. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, pushed my hair back behind my ears. I stooped to find my forgotten keys.
11
Tyler
I went after her because I’d gone too far with the sexual healing comment. I was going to apologize. I didn’t want her thinking I was some asshole. But I found her trying to get into my truck, saw how flustered she was, how her eyes were fevered and bright, saw the flush on her skin. I couldn’t resist.
I couldn’t stop kissing her. I was astounded how amazing it felt, how that kiss charged through my entire body. Her hands gripped my shoulders, I pushed my thigh between her legs and the next thing I knew I had her bent back over my arm and she was riding my thigh. I wanted nothing more than to climb up in the cab of my truck and fuck her right there. I could already see it, her body stripped bare and pale, those long limbs wrapped around me, the responsive way she kissed me back, sucking and nipping like she was starved for me. Not just for sex or for a man, but for me specifically. Layla kissed like her life depended on it, like my life depended on it and she would never give up on saving me.
It had been so long since I kissed anyone, since I had been touched by a woman. Her hand on my face had been a revelation, how much sexual force one light touch could carry. The way she grabbed and held and kissed was lusty and demanding, a woman who knew what she wanted. I was ready to move my mouth to her throat when she pulled away. I stepped back, thinking it was probably wise. That I was glad I hadn’t had to be the strong one and break the kiss. But she deserved better than a back seat hookup. I was about to speak when she launched herself back into my arms. With a chuckle of appreciation, I caught her to me and kissed her.
The renewed kiss was fiercer and sweeter, her lips on mine saying she missed me, just in the instant we’d been apart. I felt addicted to her touch already as her fingers messed up my hair. Playfully I nipped her lower lip, and she made a sound. I wouldn’t call it a moan, but whatever it was ran straight down my cock like it was a lightning rod. I groaned into her mouth, unashamed. That noise she made floored me, and any thoughts I had were reduced to ash. All I wanted was to make her do that again and again. How much could I make her moan just by kissing her? I cradled her in my arms, slanted my mouth to get that good angle with my tongue so I could stroke the roof of her mouth. I felt her tense in my arms and felt the hitch of her breath. Before I knew it, I was palming her breast, big and sensitive, the nipples hardening instantly when I touched her.