Page 53 of The Wedding Driver
He slipped from the bed, found his jeans, and hiked them up over his hips, not bothering to hook the button. “Tonya?” He padded down the hallway.
“In the kitchen,” she called. “Shall I make you a mug of coffee?”
“That would be awesome.” He smiled.
She stood with her back to him, wearing a long T-shirt that came to the middle of her thighs. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail at the nape of her neck.
Wrapping his arms around her waist, he kissed her neck. “You’re up early this morning.”
“I’ve got two weddings; one has a bridezilla with a matching mother. It’s all I can do to bite my tongue.”
“Oh, wait. Is this the two o’clock boat drive that gave specific details for wave height?” He pressed himself against her body.
“That’s the one.”
“I told them I couldn’t control the wind or the other boats on the lake and they told me I would lose my tip and they wouldn’t pay me the rest of the deposit if I didn’t make it happen.”
She laughed. “What did you tell them?”
“That if they didn’t like the conditions, we didn’t have to go and I’d give them their money back, but they weren’t getting on my boat without payment in full.” His hands roamed the top of her thighs, easing under her shirt, lifting it up over her soft, round ass, slightly shocked she wasn’t wearing any panties, but he wasn’t complaining.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She tilted her head.
He slipped his hand between her legs, teasing her gently with his index finger.
She groaned, dropping her head onto his shoulder. “I can’t think straight when you do that.”
“Good,” he whispered. “That’s the point.” He cupped her breast with his other hand, pinching and twisting her tight nipple. He’d fantasized about her a number of times; however, she was so much more than he imagined. She was wild. Wicked. Incredible. Loving. Kind. Generous.
She was everything a woman should be and more.
He’d never experienced anything like her in his entire life.
Spreading her legs wider, he lowered his zipper and dropped his pants to his ankles. He desperately needed to be inside her. To feel her wrapped around him, holding him tight. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried.
She accepted his length, pushing out her ass, grinding against him with a passion that made him drunk with desire. She gripped the counter with one hand and held on to his hip with the other, encouraging him to pump harder, faster.
He gritted his teeth as their bodies moved together in a dance that he never wanted to end.
“Yes,” she said with a throaty moan.
He found her hard nub with his index finger and rubbed gently. It was wet and swollen.
“Oh, my God. Foster. Yes.” She bent over the counter, raising her hips higher, glancing over her shoulder. Her climax gripped over him like a suction cup, pulling his orgasm from his body.
He shuddered.
She called out his name. Her body shivered. She reached up with both hands, clasping them behind his neck, arching her back, then releasing them as she fell forward, spent, gasping for breath.
Blinking, he tried to regain his composure as he smoothed his hand over her bare bottom. “That’s a nice way to start my day.”
Wiggling, she pulled down her shirt. “Better than coffee?” She pushed the button on the machine, while he managed to dress himself, again.
“You really have to ask?” He leaned against the counter.
“It was certainly unexpected.”
“When you wear that.” He wiggled his finger. “With nothing underneath. Don’t ever think sex is off the table.”
