Chapter Eight
She has me pinned against her pussy. The clenching of her inner muscles slows against my tongue, against my finger, but she makes no move to release me, and there’s no way in hell I want to leave. I’ll kneel here all day sucking those sounds out of her.
I lick the juices from her inner thigh and her fingers relax one by one as they work their way out of my hair.
“Fuck yes.” Her breathless voice makes my dick jump and beg for attention, but I lower her leaden legs from my shoulders and help her stand.
“Was that hard and fast enough for you?” I ask.
The glaze in her eyes is all the answer I need. I pull my towel from the chair and wrap it around her shoulders. Her ass cheeks aren’t covered, and I try to drag my eyes away—to give myself some kind of chance that I’ll make it back to the house, to a condom, without coming in my shorts—but my eyes snag on her hip. The bottom of a black-and-gray tattoo, low on her pelvis, peeks out from below the towel.
I smooth the towel back to get a better look at the art that I’d missed in my mad rush to make her come. “Is that a—”
But all words disintegrate into a guttural growl as her small fingers grip my cock through my shorts. She squeezes my shaft and my hips thrust into her fist without any input from me. Her lips curl into a smile and she unwraps her hand, rubbing up my junk with an open palm, grazing the head of my penis as her fingertips dip under the elastic waist of my shorts. “Not here,” I say.
She leans into me and captures my earlobe between her teeth, not letting up on the little nudges against my sensitive head. “Then where?”
“Bed. I need you in my bed.” My breath is shallow. I curl my hands into fists so I don’t reach for her—so I don’t knead her perfect breasts and slap her delicious ass and come at the fucking thought of being inside her.
She draws her fingers down my stomach and dips farther into my shorts. Her fingers graze my burning skin. “What will you do with me in your bed?”
I grab her wrist, stalling her before she can wrap her bare flesh around mine. I need a condom. An extra barrier to deaden the senses on a dick that’s so hard it could split apart if she so much as breathes on it. “I’m going to fuck you.” I lock eyes with her. With this girl I knew—this woman who owns her pleasure and mine. “Hard. Fast. And then I’ll do it again.”
She licks her lips and drops the towel. “Race you.”
Her ass jumps with each stride and beckons me forward. I try to run after her, but stumble like my feet are too big for my body. She’s far ahead of me by the time I get control of my limbs. I gain on her as she’s crossing the field. I’m close enough to hear her rapid breathing when we breach the fence to the front yard. My fingers curl around her hip at the front door, pulling her ass against my throbbing cock. She drops her head back onto my shoulder and I reach around with my free hand, sliding over the sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs.
“Yes,” she breathes. “More.” She pushes into me, circling her hips against my finger. Grinding against my cock. Wearing through any rational thought.
I release her hip but she stays flush against me, her back to my front. I push the door open and step forward. She moves with me, like our bodies are fused together—front to back, ass to cock, finger to clit.
Tags jingle in the kitchen and a giggle slips out between Amy’s ragged breaths. “Will Chuck be joining us?”
His nails click on the floor and I find my voice. “Chuck, go to bed. Stay. You—” I nip Amy’s neck. “Come with me.”
“With you,” she pants. “For you. Whatever you want.”
I guide her to the master bedroom, slicking my finger through her lips and back to her hard nub. “You’re so fucking hot, Amy.”
She pulls away and crawls onto the bed. It’s all I can do not to whip my shorts off and beat myself silly as her glistening folds sway between her hips, taunting me with their slick warmth. She rolls onto her back and props herself on her elbows, knees bent, open and exposed. “Condom?”
“Right back.” It kills me to leave her for the twenty seconds it takes to run to the guest room—to my room. I’d been so focused on getting her to bed that I’d forgotten the master isn’t mine anymore. It’s hers. I tear through my already packed boxes until I find the condoms, box crushed from months in the bedside table, but still nearly full. I ditch my shorts on the floor and grip the box with a force my dick would kill for.
Amy’s head is pressed into the comforter when I get back. Her heels dig into the mattress and her hand is between her legs. Small puffs of air escape her body as she writhes against her fingers. And it’s so fucking beautiful that I don’t want to interrupt, but can’t stand not touching. I squeeze my dick in my fist and groan through the nearly painful spasm of pleasure.
She pulls her hand from her folds and looks for me through hooded lids. “Are you ready to fuck me now?”
I tear open the foil square and roll the condom up my shaft as I cross the room. “You have no idea.” I hook my hands under her knees and pull her to the edge of the bed. “I’m not sure I can be gentle. I want you so fucking bad.”
Her eyes flash. “Then take me.”
I drive into her with one thrust. Her muscles bear down on me and I fall forward, landing with an elbow on each side of her waist. My knees shake with the effort not to lose my load right then—not to empty my balls before I can hear her scream. She wraps her legs around my hips and I sink deeper. She moans and rocks against me. “Move,” she breathes. “I need you to move.”
I grit my teeth and pull my hips back, groaning when I thrust back into her warmth.
“More.” She writhes and rolls her hips. “More. More. More.”
I draw back and pound into her again and again, pushing her back onto the bed with each thrust, but I can’t bear to be away. I crawl on top of her and grind against her clit. She moans and pushes her hips up to meet mine. I graze her clit over and over as I work myself in and out of her body.
I take her nipple in my mouth, biting down as her cries grow louder, faster. I palm her breast and keep her hard bud between my teeth as I lick it. She stills. Freezes with her mouth open and eyes rolled back. Then she breaks, coming apart around me, squeezing my cock with her pussy and clinging to my shoulders. I press my face into her neck and give in to the weight in my balls, exploding with guttural growl.
My cock throbs with our shared aftershocks and I kiss up her neck. She tastes like lake and sweat and my dick refuses to soften. “Jesus, Amy. You’ve wrecked me.”
“This is so much better than what wrecked feels like,” she says.
I push her hair from her face. “What does that mean?”
She rolls her lower lip between her teeth, then shakes her head. “I don’t even know,” she says. “I think my brain has leaked out all over my thighs.”
I press my lips to hers and swallow her protest when I grip the top of the condom and separate our bodies.
* * *
She’s naked in the kitchen when I come out of the bathroom in a dry pair of shorts. Standing on her tiptoes, she’s showing off her defined muscles and looking through the cupboards like she runs the place. Which, well, she kind of does. “What’re you looking for?”
Her skin is still flushed. Her hair is tangled. And I already want her again. I fold my hands over my junk to hide the erection I didn’t think I was even capable of so soon after such mind-numbing release.
“Water glasses,” she says. She opens the right cupboard without prompting and takes out two glasses. She fills both and hands one to me, raising her eyebrows when she sees what I’m hiding. “Maybe I should put on some clothes.”
“Don’t you dare.”
She presses a fist into the hollow of her waist. “Like what you see?”
I gesture to the tight crotch of my shorts. “Clearly.”
Amy pulls one side of her lips into a grin, but her eyes drift to the floor. She drains her water and turns back to the sink, reaching for the dish soap.
“You don’t need to do that,” I say.
“It’s no big deal.” Her shoulders hunch forward as she scrubs the glass. “I made the mess. I’ll deal with it.”
She scrubs the glass like it’s a pan with burned-on food and not a simple water glass. She doesn’t speak, or look at me, and but it takes her shoulders shivering to unglue my eyes from the way her hair grazes her back. Kicking myself for being the giant asshole who was too busy fantasizing about what that hair would feel like on his own skin to realize she was getting cold, I duck into the guest room and choose a button-up shirt from my closet. She’s still rinsing the glass when I return.
“I think that’s clean.” She looks at her hands like she’s surprised to see them still moving. I hold out the shirt when she turns off the water. “Here.”
Amy rearranges her face into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. She shrugs into my shirt and pulls it tight around her. It just grazes the tops of her thighs and my throat clenches, but not because her post-sex hair looks amazing tumbling over the collar of my shirt, but because she won’t look at me. Her eyes dart from the sink to her feet to the clock—to everything that isn’t me.
“You okay?” I ask.
Amy turns her back to button the shirt. “You just gave me two mind-annihilating orgasms. How could I not be okay?”
But the teasing tone is missing. The confident woman who’d spread her legs and worked for her own pleasure is gone.
And I’m sixteen. Falling to my knees in a cloud of diesel fumes.
Because she’s shut me out again. And I still don’t know what I did.