Page 42 of Sunrise Arrows

Archer

Reckless.

It’s a word that is definitely never used to describe me. But Tinsley, fuck. She makes me reckless. She has me doing things I never thought I would. From impulsively having that double strawberry tattooed on the inside of my wrist, to driving across the ranch, out to my house on the lake in the dark with her in my lap. I’m reckless and live in the moment with her, and I love every second of it.

I have one hand on the wheel and the other gripping her ass. Her hips rock and grind on top of me, threatening to make me come in my jeans. At my neck, she kisses and sucks a wet path from my collar bone up to my ear, pulling on the lobe before making her way down and across to the other side.

Intermittently, she stops and looks at me, drawing my eyes from the dirt roads. Then she kisses me—turning me even more reckless as I let her and kiss her back—before resuming her attempts at making me lose all semblance of control.

Her nails scratch along my nipples beneath my shirt, and I hear her breathy sigh of my name in my ear. With the persistent, eager roll of her hips on my jean covered dick, I know I won’t last.

“Tinsley, baby,” I plead, firmly squeezing her ass only to make her sigh stutter and turn into a moan. The sound is like a shot of pleasure straight to my cock, the damn thing weeping with so much pre-cum I’m surprised it hasn’t soaked through my jeans yet. Gripping her tighter in a futile attempt to stop her, I warn, “You keep doin’ that, Shortcake, and you’re gonna make me come before I can get inside you.”

“Then I’ll suck you till you’re hard again and make you come down my throat, then again in my pussy.”

Fuck me, I think I just died.

I groan and throw my head into the headrest, my hand beating the top of the steering wheel as I push the gas a little faster.

The truck’s headlights swing in front of my house and we screech to a stop in my driveway, kicking up dirt and gravel. I throw the door open and maneuver us both out, her legs wrapping tightly around me. I don’t even bother turning my car off, knowing it’ll do it for me if it’s inactive too long, and head straight for my front door.

Inside the house, I turn us around using my back to close the door. Tinsley disentangles herself from me and gives me zero chance to do anything but accept what she’s giving as she drops to her knees right there in my entryway.

Her hands are fast and determined as she rips my belt free and yanks my button open, tugging the zipper down. Pulling on my jeans and briefs, she frees my cock and has her lips around the head within seconds.

My hands slam onto the door, my head thudding against the wood and like a goddamn teenager, I whimper, again, when she starts to suck. I can’t bring myself to care though when she smiles up through her lashes at me, taking more into her mouth and using her hand to work the bottom part of my shaft.

I’m drunk on the honey whiskey of her eyes and the hot suction of her small mouth, unable to look away from her. I softly stroke the back of my knuckles down her cheek and under her jaw. Turning my hand, the tips of my fingers trace her chin and caress down her throat, feeling where she swallows around me.

Tinsley’s other hand comes up and falls over mine. She spreads my fingers until I’m touching both points of her pulse. Then she squeezes my hand and lets hers fall away.

“Message received, baby,” I groan, beginning to press on her fluttering heartbeat.

Her responding look of being drugged and blissed out as she moans around me encourages me further, counting four beats of restriction and letting go for eight.

I keep the rhythm on her neck, each soft suck of air when I release drawing me further into her mouth until I’m sliding down her tongue and hitting the back of her throat. I give her a final, longer squeeze, then let my hand drift behind her head and tangle in her hair. My other hand joins in and my blunt nails scratch and massage the base of her skull. But when she starts to bob up and down on me, her cheeks hollowing with the power of her sucking, and her throat constricting with every swallow, I’m done.

Gone.

Lost.

Ruined.

I try to pull her off, wanting to save it and savor the night with her and not lose myself within a handful of minutes, but it’s useless. She owns me, and the glimmer in her eyes tells me she knows it. She wants me to come and I’ll give her anything she wants, even an early ejaculation.

Tinsley lets go of my shaft and uses both hands to grip my hips—her fingers dimpling my muscles with her strength—and holds me to her. I push on her head just enough to bring the tip of her nose to my pelvis.

Her next swallow is my undoing.

I shout her name and my eyes roll back as my cum pulses down her throat. She sucks and swallows, slowly pulling off until only her tongue remains, cleaning me up and flirting with the slit on my tip.

When the haze finally clears and I can see again, she’s still on her knees, kissing what’s exposed of my thighs and watching me. Her eyes are bright, her cheeks flushed, her plush lips swollen and pulled up in a soft smile. In the corner of her mouth, drool and cum still dribble. I swipe my thumb over the spot and suck the pad of my finger clean.

Offering her my hand, I ask, “Are you proud of yourself for making me lose control?”

“Doesn’t seem like it’ll cause too much of a hindrance,” she tartly replies, tracing her tongue up the vein of my still partially hard dick, making me shiver with sensitivity. She takes my hand and stands up, my mouth finding hers in a lazy, unhurried kiss. Tinsley slowly pulls away, her fingers moving up and down my chest under my shirt and says, “Take me to bed, Superman. That was only to take the edge off. I’m nowhere near done with you for the night.”

Not bothering to fix my jeans, I sweep her up into my arms like a bride and carry her through my house—beams of moonlight dancing on the lake coming through the windows and lighting my way—and up to the loft that’s the master bedroom.

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