Page 106 of Mexico Can Choke On It
Bryce murmurs, “Feel that? That’s what you do to me. Now, let’s see how you like being teased.”
The first touch of his fingers dipping into my bikini bottoms and through my slick heat makes me whimper. His fingers drag slowly through my folds, exploring every sensitive inch. When he feels just how wet I am, he moans.
“Oh Pip, is that all for me?”
I shake my head frantically, even as my hips betray me by pressing against his touch. “No. That’s for my new ATV boyfriend.”
In response, he plunges two fingers deep inside me,and I lose my damn mind.
I throw my head back so hard I nearly concuss myself on his shoulder, a scream tearing from my throat—but his other hand clamps over my mouth, muffling the sound.
“Shh. We’re not alone out here. I love hearing the real sounds you make when you come, but this time you have to be quiet for me.”
He pumps his fingers in a rhythm made to ruin me—slow, deep, then faster. And then slow again. The thundering ATV already had me on edge. Now every inch of me is strung tight and his to play with.
He crooks his fingers and hits my magic spot. I must give something away—a quiver, a shudder—because he stays right there, repeating that delicious motion over and over.
Twist. Glide. Stroke.
“You still think a machine can do this better? Admit you want me.”
I shake my head against his palm, even though we both know it’s a lie. I’m seconds from seeing stars, which is when I remember:Wait. No.
He can’t win. I may be three strokes away from climax, but I have one move left. I reach around behind me—hand sliding inside his boxers—and wrap my fingers around him.
“Petra, no,” he growls, but his hips buck forward into my grip.
I feel his precum dripping from his tip. I stroke him slow. Then fast. Matching his rhythm. Mirroring his intent. Reclaiming the power one handsy stroke at a time.
“You like making my dick ache for a release, huh? Is that your game?”
We’re both teetering on the edge of complete meltdown when I hear it—the low, rising growl of an engine charging toward us. My heart lurches.
I’m terrified he’ll stop, pull away, leave me hanging—but he doesn’t.
Instead, his pace becomes punishing, his hips snapping forward with enough force that I stumble, catching myself against the tree roots before finding my footing again.
“You like it hard and messy?”
Yes. God, yes.I want him inside me so fucking bad.
I keep stroking him, gripping tight, matching every pump of his hips. He’s close. His breath stutters in time with mine.
The engine noise grows deafening, like whoever it is might burst through the trees at any second.
In his next breath, Bryce sinks his teeth into the side of my neck andgrowls.His body spasms. Warmth spills across my hand in thickpulses. His release coats my skin just as my muscles clamp down around his fingers and my own orgasm slams into me.
I gasp against his palm, my eyes squeezing shut. I sink into him, my body no longer mine to command as he continues slow, devastating strokes, milking every last tremor from my climax.
As my breathing finally steadies, he delicately pulls his hand away. I catch a glimpse out of the corner of my eye—his fingers, glistening and slick. And then, with a wicked grin, he licks them clean.
“The taste of you is so fucking addictive.”
I want to say something witty, keep up the pretense that this was just physical, but my brain is fried. Then—
“Bryce! Petra!” Gavin shouts like a bulldozer plowing through our private paradise. He sounds way too close for comfort.
With military efficiency, Bryce strips off his button-down and uses it to clean my hand before gently positioning me against the tree for support. Once he’s sure I won’t collapse, he uses the sleeve to wipe away the red lipstick stains from his other hand.
