The pickup continues its slow crawl forward. Then he turns onto a narrow pathway cut into the wheat. A good place to hide, out here in the middle of no-man’s-land where we’re obscured by miles upon miles of golden spun stalks.
Declan parks, takes the keys out of the ignition, and tosses them onto the dashboard. Then, with an arch of his eyebrow, his full attention swings toward me.
“Slide in closer.”
I do as he asks, shifting over in the seat until my hip connects with the side of the gear shift. “Why’d you park in a hayfield?”
“Thought I’d help cool you off. You’re going for a ride.”
I smooth my skirt on my thigh, trying to steady my shaky hands. Nervous energy? Or excitement? “Out here in this hayfield?” Sex. He means sex.
“Yep.”
“A hayride?” I play along.
He reaches over and places his palm back on my thigh just above the knee. He’s got big hands. Hard and calloused. Hands of a manual worker, a farmer or construction worker. Capable hands.
Hands I want all over my body.
Heat warms my cheeks.
He slides his hand upward. Slowly. Upward and onward until he’s beneath my skirt, his thumb dragging behind and leaving an imaginary line across my skin.
Just a bit further.
An ache grows inside, and I’m suddenly aware of how wet I am. My body’s a few steps ahead of my mind, and my newly awakened libido is leading the charge. I want his hands on me, his fingers inside me. I want him, all of him.
Does he know it?
I study his face. So calm. A lesson in control.
I spread my thighs apart, slightly. Encouraging him.
His nostrils flare. Not so controlled, after all.
With his free hand, he unzips his fly, then works his jeans down his legs. His erection springs free, causing me to gasp.
Uncontrolled and very much affected.
I lick my lips, thinking about what we did this morning, and if what’s about to happen can even compare. His erection’s bigger than I remember.
“Fuck. Do that again.”
“Do what?”
“Lick your lips. Look at me when you do it.”
I run my tongue slowly across my top lip, press it into my bottom lip, then withdraw. Biting down lightly, I drag my top teeth across the moist path. Doing what feels good. Acting on instinct, and guided by the wicked way he’s watching me.
His eyes flash full of lust. Changing from a deeper green to a pale color. Like the soft inside of a summer kiwi. Light green with specks of black.
I gasp. His raw, knock-me-on-my-ass, oh-so blatant reaction catching me by surprise.
I did that.
The knowledge spurs me on. “Can I . . . lick you?”
“Fuck.” He closes his eyes, tight. Like he’s pained.
Hmm. Not exactly a yes . . . but as I glance down, I see how tightly he’s fisting his erection . . .
Quickly, I bend forward and press my tongue to his tip. My hand covers his for a second before he releases the death grip he’s got on himself.
I run my tongue across the full length of his head, then swirl it around the base.
“Before I take you in my mouth, you’ve got to know . . .” I lick once more and grin at the salty taste of him. It’s a heady feeling, this power I have over him. “It’s okay if you come inside my—”
That’s all it takes.
Declan jumps out of the truck, reaches back inside and, as if I weigh nothing, hauls me up, over the center console, and out of the truck. He sets me down onto shaky legs. I attempt to sink to my knees but he stops me. “Change of plans. This is going to be a lesson in what happens when you play with fire.”
Says my stone-cold lover.
Who, as I sensed oh-so correctly, blazes hot at the core.
He reaches beneath my skirt, hooks his fingers around my thin lace underwear, and rips them clear off me. I gasp as his fingers drag across my cleft. I come up onto my toes, arching my hips forward and into his touch.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he murmurs. “You like how I fuck you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now it’s time you fuck me.”
He steps back and takes a condom out of his pocket. I eat up his movements, watching his cock spring free and him roll the condom across his hardness.
His hands find my hips and I’m spun around. I gasp as he lifts me, pulling me tightly against his chest as he climbs into the truck. He settles me onto his lap and I immediately feel the hard length of him beneath my bare bottom.
His hands cup my breasts, lifting them, squeezing them. Easily arousing me. I lean back into his chest, loving the heat coming off of him, the sweet fire building inside me.
“Sit up,” he orders.
I stiffen at the harshness in his tone. Yet I do as asked, shifting on his lap.
He hisses. My only warning before his thighs nudge mine apart and open wide. I jerk as he slides a finger inside me while pressing his thumb against my hood. The coordinated combination of finger and thumb sends shock waves up my spine.
“You’re so damn tight.” He nips my ear. “But your pussy’s soaking wet for me.”
Tell me something I don’t know.
“I’ve waited all morning for this,” he grows low in my ear.
Okay. That’s not what I expected. Before I can overanalyze his words, I’m once again hoisted upward, his warm palms cupping my cheeks and holding me in position over him. I feel his erection nudge my entrance.
Am I ready for this?
He lifts me up a half inch more, works the thick head of himself a half inch inside my slit, then releases his hold on me.
“Oh God,” I gasp, my body stretching to accommodate his thick length. Gravity’s bold-as-brass hands bringing me down fast and hard, until he’s seated deeply inside me.
I tremble. My thighs, my hands. Overwhelmed by . . . him.
He bucks up and I cry out with pleasure. Better. Better than this morning.
“Shhh. Arch forward and lift your bottom up.”
I arch and lift and quiver at the drag of him inside my wet channel. Up and up I go until he says, “Jesus, enough.” And without warning, he forces me back down.
Declan grunts.
I’m too caught up in sensation to make even the slightest of noises. He’s buried inside me, now part of me. Bonding us in pleasure. Bonding us as one.
“Lift,” he orders.
Bossy man. I lift, drawing myself up slowly. Shuttering at the intense sensation as he penetrates me more fully.
My toes curl up in my sandals. A shiver beginning in the tip of them races up my spine. Coming on abruptly, like running the last few yards of a race. Where your body aches so sweetly as you push yourself to the limit. Pushing further toward a wonderfully intense build, leading toward blissful euphoria.
“Up,” he grinds out. I’m jelly, overcome by sensation and evidently not quick enough for him. With his hands on my hips, he lifts me, my tight walls dragging across the hot length of him. He thrusts as he tugs me back down.
“Oh my God,” I hear myself moan.
He lifts, thrusts, and tugs me back down.
Again.
Again.
Until I’m soaring.
The taupe-colored wheat stalks surrounding us flash white.
He quickens the pace. Far from gentle, leaning more toward frantic as his body stiffens beneath me.
“Touch my breasts. I need to feel your hands on me,” the insatiable, lust-driven hussy in me moans.