Page 58 of Where the Blacktop Ends

Reaching for my towel, I spread it out and pull him down beside me. We lie on our sides, his hands find my hips, pulling me closer, pressing me fully against him. His mouth is back on me, his lips trailing fire across my neck and face while I rock unashamedly against his leg.

“Georgia,” he murmurs, breaking our kiss again, his eyes scanning mine with a mixture of caution and desire. “This isn’t a good idea.”

I smile at him, letting the playfulness in my voice cut through the sexual tension and mask how much I will lose my shit if he stops this right now. “No, this is the best idea. What could possibly go wrong?”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head, but the battle between his head and hands is already lost. His fingers find the straps of my bikini top and gently untie it, letting the cool night air caress my bare skin as the tiny strips of material fall between us.

“You’re breathtaking,” he whispers, his eyes so sincere. My nipples harden, pressing into his chest, the roughness of his hair sending a shiver through me. With a shiver, I curl closer into him as his arm wraps protectively around me, while he undoes my bottoms.

He’s so big and warm, even coming fresh out of the frigid water. His touch is careful, considerate, and reverent as his hands move downward past my stomach, between my thighs, sliding one roughly padded digit easily into my opening.

Andoh, my god.

“You’re so tight, so soft,” he murmurs against my lips as he claims my mouth again.

I wonder if he’ll regret this, taking these liberties with me under the cover of the dark, October night, but I know without a doubt I won’t. I’ve been craving this from the moment we met and having it now feels like the longest slow burn foreplay to the best orgasm of my life.

He pushes another finger inside of me, stretching me deliciously as he curves them just right. His thumb brushes over my clit, rubbing it firmly while his arm holds me against his chest.

“Can you take another, baby?” he asks.

I nod eagerly because what I really want is his cock inside of me, but everything he’s doing right now feels so good.

He forces a third inside, his fingers still gentle as his palm presses into my clit, massaging it slowly, sending my nerves into overdrive.

“Fuck, Georgia. The way that I’ve wanted to touch you for months now…” he groans against my mouth.

“Months?” I ask breathlessly.

He levels me with a stare. “Months, Georgia.”

Oh.

He pulls his fingers away all at once, leaving me empty, aching, before guiding me onto my back with a careful touch. Then he shifts lower, settling between my thighs with vulnerability that makes my breath race.

For a moment, I wonder if he’ll fuck me just like this—out in the open, without a care for the beach houses above and whoever might be watching. The night air is cool, raising goosebumpsover my damp skin, but I don’t care. Let them watch. Let them see.

My gaze drifts downward, locking onto where he kneels between my legs, his cock straining against the thin, striped fabric of his swimsuit—so damn thick, barely contained. He palms himself, rolling his hips, dragging the hard length of him over my slit, pressing the rough material against my clit. The friction sends a sharp, liquid heat curling through me, and I let out a soft, shameless plea for more.

“More. I want you. Please.”

Without a word, he pulls his hips back, his face moving lower until he grabs both ankles and spreads my legs as far apart as they can go. Then his fingers are there again, trailing up my thighs and then dipping inside of me, spreading my arousal up and over my clit then on either side of my opening, massaging, caressing, and squeezing until I’m swollen just from his touch.

“I need more,” I groan.

“I’ll give you more.” He smiles before lowering his head, his tongue spiking into my opening before pulling back and drawing my clit into his lips. He dips two fingers back inside my pussy and works me while his lips stay latched on my clit.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Play with those gorgeous tits, Georgia,” he commands as my fingers find their way to my chest, squeezing and teasing my hard nipples.

It doesn’t take much—just a few strokes of his fingers—for me to turn into a dripping, desperate mess in his hold. The slick, obscene sounds of his three fingers pumping deep into my pussy mix with his low groans, the vibrations of his satisfied hum against my clit sending sharp jolts through me. My toes curl intothe sand, the contrast of the cold night air against the heat of his mouth pushing me into overdrive.

I throw a leg over his shoulder, the stretch pulling deep in my pelvis, that telltale tension coiling tight. I want to hold off, to savor it, but it’s too much—too intense—and Troy is latched onto my clit like a starved man.

A broken sound rips from my throat as I fold forward, gripping his dark hair, holding his face exactly where I need it. I grind against his mouth, his mustache scraping deliciously over my sensitive skin, and let the pleasure take me under.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

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