Page 17 of Heartbeat Highway

I knead his cock from tip to base, letting my thumb rub over the sensitive crown of his circumcised cock. Then I lean forward, catch his earlobe between my teeth, and stroke him. “I want this, Bo. We both do. So let’s stop fighting it and fuck each other already.”

His gaze is animalistic and thrilling. He removes my hand from his cock and spins me around so he can back me up against the table. Somewhere along the way, he reaches under my dress, hooks the top of my panties, and yanks them down. I shimmy them further until I can kick them off, but then Bo kisses me again, kisses me like I’m his salvation. The best dessert he’s ever tasted, and he’s a sugar addict. A Lily addict. K never kissed me like this. In all fairness, I never kissed him the way I kiss Bo, either. Kissing Bo feels like diving into a cool pool fed by a waterfall after walking through a wasteland.

He presses me back against the bench, and I lie backward, scooting, trying to find purchase.

His hands are everywhere. My hips, my breasts, under my skirt. I cry out when his thumb circles my hot, swollen clit. This. This is what I’ve wanted. Abandon. Reckless pleasure.

With his other hand, he pulls down the top of my sundress, exposing my breasts. He pushes down one cup of my bra and takes a nipple in his mouth, rolling it on his tongue and between his teeth. Every tug spirals me closer to the edge. I’ve never come this quickly before. Usually, it takes me ages of foreplay and touch.

Maybe the last two years of friendship with Bo have all been foreplay.

“I want you inside me,” I groan, my hands on his temples, gripping as he fucks my nipple with his tongue, his fingers sliding inside me. I clench around him, seeking more, seeking the edge of the precipice, the blinding oblivion that’s so often been denied to me during sex. It’s right here and it’sso close.

But Bo doesn’t move. He doesn’t stop giving me pleasure so he can search out his own. He waits until I’m ready, until I’m unspooling under his touch. The orgasm hits me like a stampede, and doesn’t let up. I don’t want it to. I ride out the pleasure as it flows through and out of me.

“More,” I say, my pussy spasming around his fingers. “More. I want you inside me, Bo. Now. Make me sing again.”

“Whatever you want,” Bo says. He withdraws his hands from me, and I feel the loss like a chill, but a single glance at him tells me I don’t have long to wait. He reaches into his back pocket, and pulls a foil-wrapped condom from his pocket. I have a contraceptive implant—Bo knows this because he drove me to the doctor and held my hand—but I appreciate the condom, too.

He sheaths his cock and then leans over me. Licking my lips, I raise my knees and put my feet on the bench, giving him a view of my exposed pussy. Who is this wanton version of me? I like her.

Bo takes another moment, inspecting me, his gaze falling on the beard burns he gave my breasts, my heaving chest, my soft stomach, my wet folds.

I love the way he looks at me. I want more, so I take more. I guide his hand to my leg and then have him press my knees up against my sides. “Spread me wide, Bo.”

Still, he takes his time. He taps his cock against my clit, covering himself with the juice of my orgasm. I squirm beneath him, trying to guide him inside.

“I’ll stop teasing you.” He chuckles, then a moment later, slides into me in one thrust. It’s jarring and I didn’t realize he was this big. I tense momentarily, then let the warmth of him relax me. As I stop clenching, he slides further in.

I groan from the pleasure of it, the sensation of finally being filled. Complete. Simultaneously comfortable and incredibly aroused. A lifetime of this floods me. I want him from behind. I want to ride him, my tits bouncing. I want to wake up with his mouth on me, or his fingers trailing through my hair.

I just want Bo.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice soft. He shifts, sliding out then in, each time sparking a new sensation inside me.

“Yes.” It comes from some dreamlike place. “Yes.” I wrap my arms around his neck and let his weight settle over me. “Don’t stop now.”

He doesn’t. It takes us a few moments to find our rhythm, but once we do, it’s like the most incredible chorus, rising around us. I can’t even tell what song is on the karaoke machine. I don’t know what I say, but I know at one point I turn my face into his shoulder and bite to keep from screaming, to keep the waitress and hostess and anyone else within a five mile radius from coming in here. I don’t want this to end. This is how I want to die, with Bo inside me, coaxing wave after wave of pleasure frommy body, this body that only recently started to feel like mine again. This soft, full-figured body that Bo worships right now.

It feels like hours that we fuck there on the bench. Maybe I just want it to be hours. I want this to be timeless.

He lifts my hips off the bench, shifting position so now he’s hitting my G spot, again and again with every thrust. Oh fuck yes. I scrabble on the bench, trying to find some purchase with my nails, but it doesn’t matter. Bo has me. He holds me like it’s easy, and within moments, I gasp his name as another orgasm surges through me. A few more pumps and he pulls his head back, his neck muscles straining, and he fills the condom.

He doesn’t stop, not yet, not until we’re both spent and wrung out and then he collapses, holding himself over me only by his forearms. As he softens inside me, I gaze up into Bo’s gorgeous, lovable face. I trace his brow, his cheekbone, the line of his jaw, not wanting him to leave yet.

“Hello, friend,” I say softly.

He grins and kisses me lightly. “Hello, friend.” Then he rests his forehead on mine, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this secure in my whole life. Cradled and supported. Maybe loved.

Then there’s a loud banging on the door.

CHAPTER 10

Bo

Holy hell,I just had sex with Lily. Really, really good sex. Best I’ve ever had, if I’m honest. I don’t know what came over me—or her—but I’m into it and down for it happening as often as possible.

The knocks come again, and something sparks in Lily’s eyes. Not regret, or even shame, but a flush of something naughty. She catches my gaze as she pulls away and a wicked smile spreads across her flushed face as she readjusts her clothes to cover her breasts.

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