Page 146 of Beyond the Stroke

thirty-nine

. . .

RORY

Summer grabs a new paintbrush from its package, then climbs back on my lap and hands it to me. I set it beside my hip on the futon so I can focus on the task at hand—stripping her out of these overalls.

My fingers lift to the metal clasp at the top of her overalls, and slip it free from the button with a soft click, my knuckles grazing against her skin as I lower the strap so it can fall behind her. With my fingertips slowly dancing across her collarbone, I move to the other side and repeat the process. But this time, I hold the bib up while I release the second strap. Finally, my hand releases the bib and it flops forward with a soft rustle, baring Summer completely.

I stare up at her. She’s a fucking vision, overalls pooled around her waist. Hair in a messy bun with pieces falling loose and those adorable glasses.

“Distracted, Flipper?” She smirks.

“Distracted, destroyed—take your pick.”

After coming in my pants last night, there’s no point in playing it cool. Besides, I like telling Summer exactly how much she affects me. I want her to know how badly I want her. How desperate I am for her. She deserves to know.

I watch Summer’s smirk fade into pure desire.

Her skin is smooth and golden. My fingers lift to trace the thin line of paler skin left from the ties of her bikini and Summer lets out a relieved sigh.

I’m dying to see her in her bikini, but my chest swells at the thought that seeing her like this is just for me. This version of Summer is all mine.

With paintbrush in hand, I stroke the bristles under her breast, then move to circle around her nipple. She gasps with pleasure, letting me know how good it feels to be teased.

I sit up, moving Summer to her back. The shift of our positions allows me to pull the material of her overalls past her hips, down her thighs and off her legs. Now she’s naked and staring up at me.

I pick up the paintbrush again and twirl it between my fingers.

“You told me to behave, Wildflower, but when you’re looking at me like that, it’s impossible.” I drag the wooden handle along the inside of her thigh and she gasps.

My eyes find hers to gauge her reaction. There’s surprise there, but also desire. Hunger. Want.

“Do you trust me?” I ask, teasing the paintbrush handle closer to the center of her legs, to where she’s wet for me.

“Yes.” She nods, and knowing my intention, she parts her legs farther in invitation.

My lips drop to the skin above her knee. I can feel them shaking from the tension coiled inside her. I kiss along her sensitive skin until I reach the apex of her thighs.

I can’t resist a taste first, so I tease her open with the end of the paintbrush, then lick through her center.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me.” I groan, knowing I’m already addicted to her taste.

Summer’s hands push through my hair like she’s looking for something to anchor her while her hips grind upwards, searching for more.

So, I give her more.

Slowly, I ease the paintbrush handle inside her, watching her face to gauge her reaction.

As the handle slips inside, Summer’s head falls back, a low moan spilling from her lips. The sight of her sends a sizzle of heat to the top of my cock.

Keep it together, Rory.

I give her another inch and she exhales roughly. Hips shifting as she chases every press and drag of the smooth handle now deep inside her.

The sight of her has me spellbound.

“You should see yourself, Wildflower,” my voice is thick with heat. “Spread out like this, flushed and shaking, dripping all over my brush like you were made for this.”

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