Page 74 of The Way We Fell

“It wasn’t very good. Not exactly worth remembering.” He reaches out to grab my hips.

“Ahh! Stop!” I laugh entirely unseriously as Jay pulls me down into his lap. He’s sprawled in a camping chair beside the fire pit, logs aglow with warm flames. The metal frame of the chair creaks under our combined weight, but after a second, it holds strong. Two tin mugs of hot chocolate sit on the stone ledge beside us, still steaming through a thick layer of melted marshmallow. The air smells like bonfire, cocoa, and toasted sugar, mixed with something earthy and green, and it’s all topped off with hints of Jay’s blue cypress cologne that drives me wild.

“Never,” he insists, wrapping my hair around his fist and using it to tilt my head back. With my throat exposed, he dips his head and feasts, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to my skin. His touch sets my nerve endings alight and I’m on fire, but I shiver as his lips move lower, pushing the wide neckline of my sweater out of the way so he can continue his ministrations on my collarbone. One arm is wrapped around my waist, holding me in place, and the other hand sneaks between my legs, pressing through my leggings.

“Jay,” I whisper. “Babe, wait.”

He lifts his head from my shoulder.

“Anyone could see us.”

“There’s no one around, Princess. It’s just you and me and this wet-as-hell pussy.” He presses another open-mouthed kiss to my throat and I tip my head back, rocking my hips into his hand.

“Say yes,” he breathes against my throat. “Or tell me to stop. I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes,” I gasp. He lifts his head to make eye contact and I pull him into a kiss—one he returns eagerly, shifting in place to adjust his hardening dick. I grind against him, smiling against his lips as a low rumble emanates from his chest. My core makes contact with the hard line of his dick through our layers of clothing and I slip from his lap to the ground, one hand coming to rest over the growing bulge in his jeans.

“Say yes or tell me to stop,” I repeat to him with a smirk. He swallows hard.

“Fuck yes,” he answers. He opens his legs wide enough for me to settle between his knees, and I pop the button on his jeans. He reaches in and frees himself from the restraints of denim and cotton boxers, and my mouth waters in anticipation. So does my pussy.

I clench my thighs as I settle on my knees, leaning forward with my forearms on his thighs. I lick my lips before I take him in my mouth, breathing through my nose as his crown bumps the back of my throat. Not for the first time, I thank god for my complete lack of a gag reflex as I take him as deep as I can.

His head falls back as he shifts his hips towards me, slinking down in the chair. Another low moan leaves his lips and it travels straight to my core. I swear I feel its vibration deep inside me somewhere. Between the exhilaration of sex in a semi-public place and the incredible turn-on of having my gorgeous boyfriend’s enormous dick in my mouth, I’ve soaked right through my underwear and my leggings and I’m just about ready to come, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.

“You look so fucking perfect on your knees,” he murmurs. His head shakes, trembling on straining muscles as he watches me through heavy-lidded eyes. I can barely hear him above the birdsong and the rustling of the leaves. “My pretty little slut on her knees for me.”

Holy fuck.I never thought I’d hear the word slut as a compliment of any kind, but whenever Jay says it, all the blood in my body rushes between my legs, bound and determined to prove him right. Iama little slut. I’m a slut for him and his perfect fucking dick.

I move my head to meet the jerk of Jay’s hips as he rocks against my mouth. My eyes are watering. I run my tongue up and down his length, following the path of the thick vein on the underside of his dick, and I hollow out my cheeks as I suck him even deeper. Saliva collects at the corner of my lips and I wipe it away with a finger before cupping his balls, brushing my thumb over the feather-soft skin. His breath comes in grunts as I play with him, applying just a tiny bit of pressure with my fingers before gripping the base of his dick and following my mouth with my hand.

I can feel my own inner walls fluttering and clenching, my clit throbbing between my legs as Jay moans my name repeatedly. And then he groans a tight, choked ‘fuck’ before spilling into my mouth. I swallow, swirling my tongue around his head to collect every last drop. Then, I sit back on my heels and grin up at him indulgently.

“You look awfully smug for someone who hasn’t been fucked yet, Princess,” Jay says after a moment. His eyes are still closed. His head is still tipped back, exposing his Adam’s apple and the vein that runs down the line of his throat, and his breathing is just starting to return to normal.

“How do you know what I look like? Your eyes are closed.” I pat his knee.

“I always know what you look like, Princess.” He opens his eyes and looks directly into mine. “The image of you is burned into my brain. When I close my eyes, you’re all I see.”

Green flag. One hundred boyfriend points. I don't think even the hockey star in the last book I read would say that, and he was the biggest simp alive—I mean, he wore his girl's jersey, for Christ's sake. Okay, so he probably would. But something tells me that kind of romance novel trope is child’s play to Jay. That he would go so much further, if he could.

He reaches for me, pulling me up as he stands. Cocooned in his embrace and a bruising kiss, he walks me a few steps backwards to the nearest tree before spinning me around to face away from him.

“Thoroughly, remember? Hands on the tree, Princess.”

Holy shit. It’s like something out of a book. From the glint in his eye, the calm, quiet rumble of his voice, and the way his dick is still semi-hard, bouncing excitedly over the waistband of his pants, I can tell he’s about to ravage me. And that I’m going to love it. I press my hands and forearms against the tree and spread my legs in an eager invitation. Do your worst, baby. Fuck me until I can’t remember my own name.

He slips his fingers into the pocket of his jeans and retrieves a foil package. I bat his hand away as he moves to tear it open.

“Don’t,” I whisper into the tree bark. “I’m on birth control. I want to feel you.”

My words drag a low rumble from his chest and he tosses the condom packet on the ground. I make a mental note to retrieve it later and save the wildlife from litter and spermicide. His hand wraps around his dick, teasing himself agonisingly slowly as I bare myself to him.

“Come on, soldier,” I goad him. “I’m ready for you.”

He moans again, yanking my leggings to my ankles and then dropping to his knees and pressing his mouth against me. The unexpected action tears a loud gasp from my throat. His mouth is warm on my skin, his tongue always so perfectly rough and gentle all at once. His stubbled chin scrapes at the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, gentle scratches bringing the most pleasurable kind of pain. The more he feasts, the more ready I am formore, shifting my weight and adjusting my stance as my breathing quickens.

And then he stands, dick in hand, leaning over me until his lips brush against the edge of my ear.

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