Page 11 of Guarded By the Lumberjack
Penny's hands are her own again, I need both of mine. I don't have patience for unsnapping her bra, I just pull the cups down to free each beautiful mound of flesh so that I can knead them in my hands while I lavish each rosy tip with my tongue.
Her body twists beneath me as she reaches behind her to unclasp the bra I didn't have time for, then her fingers spear through my hair behind my head and Penny's body twists for new reasons.
It's not until I start stripping her down that she gets shy.
Penny's hands fall across her luscious body, and when I move them out of my way, she pulls at the edge of the blanket till it covers what I've worked so damn hard to reveal.
"Are you having second thoughts?"
I force my hands to still and wrench my mouth away from the soft curve of her belly. My dick throbs with need, but the last damn thing I want is for Penny to feel guilty about this.
"No," she answers quick and sure, thank fuck. "It's not that it's just--" she glances around the room, and up to the ceiling where a fan hangs above the bed, motionless, but with the center fixture lighting up the room. "Maybe we could turn the lights off?"
Chapter Six
Penny
It wasn't until Calvin tugged my shirt and bra off and began undoing my jeans that I got nervous.
Maintaining my figure hasn't exactly been my highest priority for the last few years. Suddenly I'm naked and spread out underneath a man who might be sixteen years older than me, but looks like he was carved from granite by Michelangelo.
The sun was low when we got here and we turned lights on as soon as we arrived. Now I'm feeling self-conscious.
Still desperate for Calvin's touch, still hoping I'm not imagining the emotional pull between us, but feeling very much like I should run twenty miles and do four hundred sit-ups before letting him see me naked in full light.
Calvin vehemently disagrees; answering my meek confession by stripping every last stitch of clothing off of us both.
"You're fucking perfect, Penelope." He kneels between my legs and takes his shaft in his hand, giving it a long stroke that makes it clear how large the thing is, and how hard he is-- for me. "This is for you, baby; because of you. I've been imagining these curves filling up my hands since you followed me into my garage, soaked to the bone, with your clothes transparent from the rain."
His voice goes ragged, like the memory is enough to drive him over the edge.
"This body--" he falls on me, ravenous, "was made for me from my dirtiest fantasies. Understand?"
It's not his heated words that convince me though, it's the callused hands roaming over my curves and the hot mouth kissing, licking, sucking-- ohmygoshbiting-- every contour, that steals all the fucks I had to give to the light overhead.
Those strong hands and wicked lips make their way down my body and by the time Calvin's blunt fingertips slip between the slick folds of my sex, the only thoughts left in my in head are about how badly I need him.
Calvin's knees edge back, giving himself more room to work his wide shoulders between my thighs. I feel the mattress shift and hear the thump of his weight hitting the wooden floor, then he grips my hips with those large, leathery hands and pulls my body toward him.
With one strong yank, I'm suddenly at the edge of the bed. My feet dangle briefly until I find purchase against Calvin's muscled back. He only stops pulling me toward him when my pussy is positioned firmly against his mouth.
It happens so fast, I don't have time to second guess or get self-conscious again-- I can only lose myself in the sensation of Cal's hot mouth working some kind of magic.
His fingers brush lightly along my thighs, one hand drawing down to my knee and back along the tender flesh inside. Up and up until those fingers slip against my dripping center.
At that touch, Calvin releases me from his mouth and groans long and low as he presses one thick finger deep inside my core.
"You're so fucking wet, baby, is that all because of me?"
I try to say yes, but the sound that comes out of me is more of a strangled, gurgling, moan.
I roll my hips, seeking the wet warmth of his mouth, hoping to coax his agile tongue back to my clit while I rock against the delicious feel of being stretched over two of his talented fingers now.
Cal laughs, angling the stroke of his fingertips to hit someplace inside me that makes me arch my back and beg out loud.
"That's my girl," he coos darkly, "telling me what you want."
His mouth is against me again, running his tongue through my slick folds and then suctioning over my clit and adding pressure.
