Page 48 of Only the Wicked
“A friend used to say every woman needs a landing strip. I don’t?—”
My mouth lowers over her as I press a finger into her heat. As a second finger plunders, I lift and utter a, “Shh”.
Her eyelids flutter closed. She’s lifted on her elbows, and as her head tilts back, she transforms into a summer goddess, and I resume worshipping her. I love her taste, her silky touch, her little noises and the tightening and loosening of her muscles, and when her fingers press into my scalp, directing me, it’s fucking perfection. Her thighs press to my ears as her body tightens, culminating in a rewarding orgasm.
She relaxes back onto the towel and I press kisses to her thighs and dry my fingers on the edge of the towel.
She’s fucking gorgeous spread out in the speckled sunlight. There are no sun lines, yet her skin glows with a slight tan, her natural skin tone. She has the body of an athlete, limbs lean and toned.
I trail kisses up her body and she lifts her head, a slight smile playing across those luscious lips. When I reach those lips, I press mine to them. But the kiss I claim is quick. She presses on my shoulder, pushing me back.
“Your turn,” she says.
My gaze lifts skyward, and I swear it’s like I’m flying or spinning. The sky, the sun… How long has it been since I laid down in the grass and stared up at the sky? Taken in nature from the lowest point…on a weekday, no less. All the world scurries like ants between offices and home, and I’m sprawled like a king luxuriating in the riches of the world.
She grips my cock with commanding strength, eliciting a guttural groan, and I watch transfixed as she flattens her tongue and licks my shaft. Teasing, she circles my tip, lapping at the precum. When her mouth finally takes me, I swear my eyes roll into the back of my head.
Best fucking vacation.
What she’s doing feels so good. I relax into her ministrations, loving the feel until a familiar tightening in my balls and my lower back has me popping my head up.
“That’s…” I reach for her arm, warning her. “Too close,” I bark out.
She smiles and straddles me, positioning herself over me, but fuck.
“Condom,” I grit out, gently gripping her hips while scanning the ground to locate my backpack.
I twist beneath her and crawl across the towel until I snatch my backpack and rummage inside.
“Boy Scout,” she says, almost to herself. “Always prepared.”
“Eagle Scout,” I correct, holding up a condom. And not as prepared as I like. I examine the square, checking the date. “This is my only one. We’ll need to head back to the hotel after this.”
I offer her a wicked grin.
“We’re on vacation,” I can’t help but add, then rip the foil with my teeth.
She takes the condom from me and presses me down onto my back.
Interesting. I’m not sure Sara ever offered to put the condom on. There’s something scintillating about watching her roll it down my shaft, but it’s nothing compared to watching her position herself over me. She moves my tip between her folds.
All things holy.
And then she lowers, stretching, taking me into her tight heat.
“Jesus fuck, you feel good.”
I grip her hips, and piston into her, pressing against the hard earth for leverage. She leans forward, rolling her hips against me, our gazes locked.
“That’s it. Use me.”
Her lips spread into a wide smile. “I intend to.”
She leans back, and her nipples, a tawny rose, pebble in the light. I twist one and her hips grind. My thumb presses against her clit, and she mewls. She’s so fucking wet, so turned on—and so am I.
Shivers climb my spine as her muscles seize and I grip her hips, holding her tight against me as she rides through a second orgasm, head back, eyes closed, sunlight drenching her in gold.
“You are so fucking gorgeous.” I don’t actually intend for her to hear me, but her eyelids flutter open, and she falls forward, claiming my mouth.
