Page 9 of Rescued By the Lumberjack
Fuck. I shoulda fucking kissed her. Everything about the way she looked at me, the way she pressed into my touch, wasn't just permission, it was begging me to do it.
But we both needed to clean up and as much as I'd like to have put her here with me in the custom shower of my masterbath so I could watch the water run over her smooth skin and make sure to clean every crease and curve of her form, I needed to give us both some space.
I was thinking that maybe if I wasn't up against her for two minutes, my thoughts might straighten themselves out and I'd start feeling normal again.
No such damn luck.
By the time I'm toweled off and dressed again, my balls still ache and I'm still sure that Phoenix is the woman I've been waiting on to help me fill this house with kids.
Grabbing the first aid kit from my bathroom cabinet, I adjust my dick, grateful for the support the boxer briefs give behind the loose sweat pants, and head out to the front room to wait on Phoenix.
She comes out of my guest bathroom scrubbed clean, with her black hair tousled and damp, hanging loose past her shoulders, looking like a sweet vision with one of my t-shirts tied in a knot at her waist, pulling tight enough to show off those heavy tits of hers that make my mouth water at the way they move with her steps now that they're freed from the tight bra she had on before.
I gave her a pair of my boxers to go with the shirt. A loose pair in a soft cotton material with tiny pine trees and bears printed on the material that my mother gave me for Christmas a couple years back.
Mom is the last thing on my mind when I see the way Phoenix's round hips and ass fill out those shorts.
"Come over here and lemme take care of you." My voice comes out gruff on what sounds like an order but feels like a plea.
Phoenix lets me position her between my knees, turning her so I can start with her skinned knee. I apply antibiotic ointment and cover the scraped skin with a wide bandage before workingmy way up her shapely leg, doing my best not to touch her like I want but not doing the best job of it.
My fingers trace up her thigh to the swell of her hip where I know there's more scratches from where her hiking pants were torn. Those scratches are covered by the boxers now, the soft flannel shorts too tight around her thigh to lift up over her hip, meaning I have to lower them from the waist band.
Hooking a finger into the elastic, I start slowly, giving Phoenix plenty of time to let me know if she's not comfortable with what I'm doing.
The shorts lower an inch, then two, and it's clear that she didn't put her panties back on under the shorts.
My dick surges with need. The silky smoothness of her skin against my rough fingertips, the idea that she's bare beneath the little boxers, the idea that her sweet little pussy is bare againstmyclothing. Fuck me, man, I might never wash these boxers again.
At this angle, Phoenix is standing between my open thighs while I sit on the edge of my sofa. I'm about eye-level with her plush ass, and if I move her half a turn, I'd be able to press my nose directly into the little space where her thighs come together and inhale what I know is going to be the sweetest pussy in the world.
Eyes the color of a Caribbean sea stare down at me. Phoenix smiles shyly and her little hand joins mine to guide the shorts further over that full hip.
My fingers splay, moving south and inward, avoiding the angry bruises and the raw skin where she slid down the cliff, till my hand sneaks around her thigh to the space between her legs.
Phoenix moves a foot, widening her stance for me. She leans against my shoulder and lets out the cutest little gasp as my fingers reach her center and find her hot and dripping for me.
Chapter Six
Phoenix
Adam's fingers move agonizingly slowly, when all I want is for him to take care of the ache that's settled into my core.
The lines in his face deepen with the unspoken question as he looks up at me and I'm so scared to just blurt out what I really want that all I can do is move my feet apart to give him space, hoping he'll take the lead here because honestly? I'm not sure what to do.
"Sweetie, your little pussy's soaking through these shorts."
Adam's fingers work between my legs with firmer movements, his other hand leaving the first aid kit abandoned on the couch cushion beside him to grip my other hip and turn me toward him
"Soaking is good though, right?" My hands brace his strong shoulders for balance as one broad fingertip slides into my seam.
The sensation is overwhelming, making my hips buck toward him involuntarily while I let out a whimper that doesn't sound like me at all.
Adam looks up at me again, his dark brows pulled together and those lines by his eyes creased with the curiosity in his expression.
"Fuck yeah," he says. "Soaking is fucking awesome. As long as your little cunt's soaking wet because of me."
That probably shouldn't sound hot, but the coarse words only make my growing need worsen. I move my hips, using his hand like I'm scratching an itch.
