Page 60 of Stone
“More?” he asked, reading her mind.
She drew back, met his gaze, then nodded.
“Kiss me,” he said. Obeying his order, she leaned forward and set her lips to his. He opened and as their tongues danced and tasted and tangled, he shifted a hand to her front and started teasing her body as he rocked his hips in the small movements that the bench and their positions allowed.
It was enough, though. Enough to take the edge off, enough to send her spiraling up. He swallowed her sounds of need as he drew her tauter and tauter. When her core fluttered and heat spread through her body, she teetered for one more glorious moment, then unable to keep her voice caged, she pulled back and let out a cry as her body shook with the release.
When the tremors eased, she dropped her head to Simon’s shoulder again. When he shifted beneath her, she knew he wasn’t done. Neither was she.
“Wrap your legs around me again,” he demanded, rising. How he managed to stand, she had no clue, but she willingly obeyed and locked her ankles behind his back as he stood.
Turning so she faced the river, he leaned over her, setting a knee on the stone where he’d just sat.
“I’m not going to go easy,” he said, angling them even further until her shoulder blades hit the top of the bench. He slid one hand between her skin and the stone, protecting her, while the other gripped her hip.
“Please don’t,” she said. She wanted to see him wild, she wanted to see him take everything he could from her, she wanted to see him lose control.
Despite his words, he started out slow, his thrusts deep and sure as his forehead rested against hers.
“I can’t…you feel…” He either didn’t have the words or couldn’t speak. Both did wonders for her ego and made her want to urge him on.
“More, Simon,” she said before fisting his hair in her hand and pulling him into a bruising kiss.
He didn’t hesitate, and his rhythm picked up as he devoured her. Delicious heat built between her thighs again and she whimpered, spreading her knees wider while tightening her ankles locked around his back.
With little more than a grunt, he took advantage of the extra access and thrust harder, faster. Unable to focus on more than the feel of him, she loosened her hold on his hair and let her head fall against the soft earth where the riverbank met the bench. Simon threw his own head back, a look of fierce need in his expression.
Consumed by him—by his hands on her body, by his hips thrusting between her thighs, by the primal sounds coming from his throat—she was only dimly aware of her other senses. Of their harsh breathing filling the quiet afternoon, of the water splashing over the riverbank, of the sun’s rays lighting Simon’s face.
She let out another whimper as the flutterings began again. “Simon,” she said, both an entreaty and a warning. In response, his hips snapped even harder, faster. In a flash, the flutterings burst into a powerful orgasm that swept over her with such force that she didn’t even have a chance to pull in a breath.
Silently, she cried out, her body clenching, pulling, holding Simon inside her. He managed to pull out and thrust in two more times before he, too, succumbed to the power that neither of them could or wanted to deny. A strangled roar escaped him as he pulsed deep inside her, filling her with his heat.
Her body drank him in, every last move, every last pump, every last twitch. Until they were still.
Slowly, her ears and mind cleared enough to hear their breaths, harsh and uneven in the quiet of their surroundings. Another minute passed before an ache in her hips startedmaking itself known. Another minute after that, Simon turned and dropped back onto the bench, cradling her against him, her legs once again straddling his thighs.
With her head resting on his shoulder, he gently ran one hand up and down her spine. When she tilted her chin and dropped a little nibbling kiss on his neck, he pulled her tight and kissed her hair.
“I have zero regrets about what we did,” he said. “But next time, can we be somewhere softer than stone?”
She laughed softly. “It was a memorable first time in more ways than one, but yes. Next time, let’s try a bed.”
29
They didn’t make it to a bed the next time. Or the time after that. Once they’d climbed from the hot spring, Stone hadn’t been able to keep his hands—or other parts of his body—to himself. Snacking on the picnic he’d packed clad in nothing but towels proved too much of a temptation. And after distracting Sherman with a peanut butter-filled toy, he managed to convince Juliana that a second round, surrounded by sunshine and wildflowers, was well worth her while. He’d thought to take it easy on her after that, but then, when they returned home, she stepped into the shower and held the door open for him. An invitation he’d never turn down.
Now, at barely nine o’clock, she lay curled next to him, drifting in and out of sleep, as he watched a documentary about the ancient Maya empire. An interesting show, but mostly he was killing time for another hour or so before he’d be able to sleep. There were other ways he could think of to spend that hour, but he’d exhausted Juliana and in truth, he liked the soft warmth of her body draped over his as she slept beside him.
The host of the show was describing an ancient game the Maya played when his phone vibrated on the bedside table.Swiping it up, he connected the call without looking at the number on the screen, assuming the only people who’d call him at this time of night were his brothers.
“Yeah?” he answered.
Silence greeted him, followed by a woman’s voice. “Mr. McLean?”
No one called him Mr. McLean. “Who’s calling?”
She sighed. “This is Special Agent Callie Parks from the FBI; is this Mr. McLean?”
