Page 72 of Misguided
Her slender fingers curl under mine, cupping the bulge in her hold. Blood surges through me as I sigh heavily out my nose, trying my best to keep my shit in check.
“Dog,” she pants. “We better go.”
“What’s another ten minutes, babe?” I rock my hips into her hold, my eyes closed at the heavenly feel of her tender palm pressing against my cock.
“We’re out in the open,” she feebly protests.
As though to prove her point, a semi rumbles past on the road fifty yards to our left. With a groan, I reach down and slide both hands under her thighs so I can pick this little lady up. She giggles as I heft her high on my stomach, tingles erupting in my legs when the apex of her thighs catches the painfully sensitive tip of my cock through my jeans.
“Where to?” I muse out loud as I carry her further into the roadside clearing.
The area appears to be nothing more than a dumping ground for the road workers, with piles of shingle and dirt lumped down at the far end of the grassy clearing. A hedge breaks the area from the fields beyond, the space between one of the shingle mounds and the trees perfect for what I have in mind.
“What are you up to?” Mel teases as she angles her head to leave a soft kiss on the side of my neck.
I drag in a long, steadying breath and set her down on the side of the shingle. She’s heaven and hell, wrapped up in one short little package. Her ponytail fans out over the stones, and fuck me, when she arches that back to get a sharp stick out of the way … damn.
“Pity I’m not in your clothes again, huh?” She wiggles her eyebrows, a sly smile on her lips.
“Why’s that, babe?” I drop to my knees between her legs and check to make sure that from this position we’re invisible to anyone on the road.
“Otherwise then you might think I still look fuckable.”
“Jesus, Mel.” I drag a hand over my face, the pressure in my groin ridiculous. “If it were up to me, you’d still be on that bike out there, and we’d be halfway done already.”
She reaches out for me, wrapping her fingers in the front of my cut. “Ten minutes.”
“You’ll be lucky if I last two with the way you’re lookin’ at me.”
She gives me enough of a tug to put me off balance, and I shoot my hand out to save from falling on top of her. The warm gusts of her breath tickle the ends of my hair that have fallen into my face as I stare deep into her honest eyes and find everything I’ve always wanted.
It ends here.
The late nights, the nameless women, and the reckless antics all in the name of getting a laugh. None of that matters anymore. Not when I’ve got something so much better to spend my time on.
I tilt my head and lean down to taste those plump lips one more time. Her back arches, those goddamn tits pressed tight against my chest as she wraps her arms over my shoulders and pulls me closer. Our bodies lie flush on that pile of shingle, and to be honest, it could be a bed of nails for all I fucking care—I don’t think I’d feel it either way.
“Off,” she utters, wrestling with my cut.
I rear back and slide the leather off, laying it down gently beside us before yanking my T-shirt over my head and piling it on top. Her eyes are positively hungry as she bites that bottom lip of her and makes a content little hum.
“Damn, Dog.”
Hearing her use that name, sounding like one of the club sluts … I can’t stand it.
“Koen,” I say quietly.
She stills, a soft smile spreading over her lips. “Koen.” Her eyes light up, the corners crinkle as she reaches for me once again.
I lower myself over her and kiss a trail from the point of her jaw, down her throat, to where the neckline of her shirt sits over the line of her cleavage. I want nothing more than to peel the cotton off her and see what’s underneath, but I’ve also got a hell of a lot more respect for her than that. We’re outside, in a relatively public place. We get busted, a guy with no shirt on is nothing too unusual. But a woman getting around in her bra? Nope.
Her hands creep up the back of my neck to my head as I kiss my way back up, her fingers channeling through the lengths of my hair before she curls them and gets a good grip. A sigh slips from her lips as I take the bottom one between my teeth and give it a little tug.
“Gotta stay quiet, remember?” I whisper in her ear as my hand trails a path down her side.
She twists underneath me, her hips rolling and pressing up against my own as she gives me a small groan of acceptance.
I skim my fingers around the waist of her jeans, sliding them back and forth from her back to her front before finally slipping them inside. A guttural groan erupts from Mel as she throws her head back, the shingle making a scraping noise beneath her head as she pushes it back. I wriggle my hand to get beneath the edge of her panties and then relish the way she screws her eyes shut as I stop just shy of breaching the edge of her folds.