Page 65 of Moonshine and Magnolias
Rob decided to help her out. “The best sex you ever had?”
“What?” Her mouth gaped open. “It was rude of me.”
He snapped his fingers and pointed to her. “That was my second guess.”
Her eyebrows drew down as she cleared her throat. “Anyway, I’m sorry.”
“That we did the naked tango?”
She shot him a look of frustration. “For kicking you out of my room.”
“So not for the naked tango.”
“No. That was nice.” She cringed a little as she said it. “Very nice.”
At least she modified the less-than-enthusiastic response. “Which part? Because if nice, very nice for you describes the part I’m thinking about, then I hope to all creation we’re not talking about the same thing.” He stepped closer, staring into the wide eyes that reminded him one misstep would send her scurrying away. He dropped his voice. “It was incredible.”
Before she could respond, he turned from her and straddled the stone bench. It was still warm from the sun, and he wrapped his fingers over the edges to keep from touching her.
Heat suffused her cheeks. She tossed a glance back to the Hall, her bodyalmost poised to escape. “Look, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I have to go.”
“If you have to. But I’m going to be here for a while, in case you want to hang.” And hope that she changed her mind. He gave a casual shrug. “It’s nice out. Very nice, even.”
She exhaled a quick puff of breath. “Good night.”
He softened his voice. “Good night, Wendy.”
She walked up the small hill, her strides determined. He could barely make out her form in the growing darkness. Damn. She was really going to leave.
As she was about to crest the hill, she stopped. Took a few more steps. Stopped again, this time longer. He held his breath until she pivoted.
Thank God.
He expected her to say more. Instead, she charged straight forward, not stopping until she nearly knocked him off his seat between her hold on his head and the onslaught of her lips. He slid his hands to her hips, but did nothing more than give her a solid base from which she could continue to use him anyway way she wanted.
And want to she did. She roped her arms around his neck and pressed her torso closer, keeping their lips connected. The outsides of her breasts grazed his arms.
That was all it took to get him rock hard, ready to flip her on her back and hike up her skirt. He closed his eyes and pushed away all thoughts of movement. This was Wendy’s show. It had to be.
She straddled the stone bench facing him, her breathing ragged. Her skirt hiked up over her knees, revealing the smooth, pale skin of her thighs, and he fought to keep his gaze from drifting lower. She studied his face and what he hoped was a lust-filled, encouraging, open-to-anything expression. Her gaze moved to his chest, down his torso, and stared at his crotch. His jeans got uncomfortably tighter. A satisfied smile played upon her lips. Holding eye contact, she slowly drew the elastic out of her hair and ran her fingers through her long tresses.
He had never so much in his life wanted someone with the ferocity that roaredthrough his blood. His own breath hitched and he grabbed the bench behind him.
Letting Wendy take control was the whole point, but this was torture. Half of him regretted the decision when she ran her hands along the underside of her breasts, keeping her eyes on his as if daring him to move.
He had no idea how he kept from touching her.
She bent forward, her warm breath tickling his stomach. He threw back his head and closed his eyes when she reached for his jeans. Even exhaling was difficult. He thought of curses and lost treasures, hoping to keep from exploding in his pants like he was with a girl for the first time.
“Stand up,” she ordered.
He slid his leg over the bench and obeyed, and she yanked his jeans down to free his crotch from the confining fabric. His penis ached to be loose as well, but she tugged on his arm and he sat back down. Her fingers slipped into his underwear, fondling him, caressing him, and pulled down the elastic so it was under his balls. He lifted his hips to make it easier.
Her hand dug into his shoulders as she used him for leverage to shift onto his lap with only the material of her underwear between him and heaven. Her gentle thrusts were an echo of what he wanted her to do.
Torture.
He would not be the first to orgasm. To make sure of it, he dug deeper into the bench, scraping his skin enough to take the edge off his pleasure, helpless to do anything but watch as she swayed up and down, her satiny hair shimmering over her shoulders and tickling his chest. Her eyes closed as she tilted her head back, and one of her hands reached up to caress her own breast. Rob’s eyes followed her action, mesmerized by the pleasure on her face and the ragged mewling sounds escaping her throat.
