Page 33 of Horn of Plenty
She brushed the wet hair out of his eyes. “I’ve never skinny-dipped before. It seems like you’re getting every one of my firsts,” she said.
And he’d treat them like the cherished gifts they were.
“I want all your firsts. Every single one of them,” he whispered against her lips as she rocked her hips against his hard length.
“I’ve also never made love in a creek,” she disclosed with the sexiest of smiles.
How had he made it this long without her?
He tightened his hold on her ass and positioned himself at her entrance. “That’s about to change,” he growled, capturing her mouth in a kiss as he pistoned his hips.
Their slick bodies came together under a halo of light. Mabel cried out, digging her nails into his shoulder blades. Her nipples tightened into pearls as her breasts pressed into his chest. It was as if a thread formed between them, connecting them, binding them together, making them one. Writhing in the dark waters, he pumped his cock in and out, making sure to grind against her sweet bundle of nerves—just how she liked it. A dizzying current of lust entwined with a feverish desire to take her body over the edge tore through him. The heat kindling between them contrasted with the cool night air. And the fire of her kisses and the sound of her wanton moans accompanied by the hum of nature had him hovering on the precipice between complete carnal release and the sweet agony of holding back in anticipation.
“Cal, I’m there! Don’t stop,” she cried as she clung to him, lost in oblivion.
Never—he’d never stop.
Doubling his resolve, he called out, taking her higher as he met his release. He twisted one hand into her hair and wrapped the wet locks around his fist. He held her close, owning her every breath, her honeyed sighs, and her ragged cries of delirious gratification. He had always been one to give, but with Mabel, like a thief in the night, he took and took, pumping and grinding, unable to stop until he’d harnessed every ounce of pleasure from her body.
Breathless, they clung to each other, listening to the ripple of the creek and hum of insects suspended in the air. He stroked her cheek, and she sighed against his neck.
“What’s that?” she asked.
He turned and stared through the brush.
Shit!
“We need to go,” he answered, lowering his voice.
“Why?” she whispered.
He held her gaze in the darkness. “Because we might be trespassing.”
“Cal!” she exclaimed.
He covered her mouth with his hand. “It’s only sort of trespassing. I’m pretty sure we’re on the very edge of his property.”
“Whose property?” she hissed, batting away his hand.
He cringed. “The Stewart’s land.”
“Cranky Mr. Stewart!” she whisper-shouted.
“Is somebody out there?” a far-off voice—Mr. Stewart’s voice—called.
“We need to make a run for it,” he said.
“Cal! I don’t want cranky Mr. Stewart to see me naked! And what will people think if he finds us together?”
He moved toward the bank with Mabel in his arms. “That’s why we have to run.”
She pressed her hand to her mouth, but she was smiling from ear to ear. “This is insanity!”
It was. He was a grown man naked in a creek. Jesus! If Stewart caught them, the next town council would be damn awkward. But he couldn’t help meeting her goofy grin with one of his own.
He peered through the brush as a flashlight bobbed in the distance.
“If we go now, he won’t catch us. He’s too far away. We grab our clothes, then book it toward the truck,” he said, keeping an eye on the glow of the flashlight.
