Page 6 of Hayrides with Hank
Her eyebrows lifted in what was almost an imitation of my move. Then she was smiling too.
“You’re right,” she said. “But I am safe. I mean, I’m on birth control.”
Shit, that hadn’t even occurred to me. My hands were on her hips and my mouth inches from hers, and I would have plunged headlong into this, probably only considering the condoms in my bedside table after I’d emptied myself inside her. Normally, that would be followed by weeks of worrying about whether or not I’d be tied down with a kid for the next eighteen years.
But none of that occurred to me this time. It wasn’t just that I didn’t care if I got her pregnant. Iwantedto get her pregnant.
All of a sudden, I got it—the reason men settled down and started a family. It wasn’t a trap like I’d always seen it. With the right woman, it was what life was all about.
“We could get caught at any second,” she said, smiling as she reached for the fastening of my jeans.
I opened my mouth to reassure her, but my brain stopped me. I’d just processed what she was doing. The thrill of being caught was part of this—it was why we were doing it here and not in my king-size bed just a few miles away.
We wouldn’t be caught, not here. But we were outside, just feet away from where someone could come upon our nighttime picnic and go investigating, and that thought got me riled up too. Of course, it could have more to do with the fact that she was shoving down my underwear and jeans, freeing my erection like she couldn’t wait to get her hands on it.
And that was exactly what she did—put her hands on it. One hand, anyway. The other moved up my arm as she rose on tiptoe.
That broke the last of any restraints I might have had.
I crushed her mouth with mine, came down on her mouth so hard I was worried I’d bump her teeth behind her lips. Too rough? She didn’t seem to mind, though. Instead, she continued to stroke me with smooth, deliberate movements that had me moaning against her mouth.
Her touch was far from expert, but somehow that excited me more. I could easily assume I was the first man she’d ever touched, and the possessiveness that filled me at that thought brought me up short. In a million years, I never would have imagined being excited by the thought of being a woman’s first.
But it wouldn’t have applied to any other woman. This was all about Maddie.
I pulled back and looked down at her, my face still close to hers. “Turn around. Put your hands on the tree.”
The command in my own voice surprised me, but the raw, answering heat in her eyes told me it was the right one. It was a language we were inventing together, right here, right now.
With a slow, deliberate movement that made my blood pound, she turned, placing her palms flat against the rough, ancient bark of the oak. The world narrowed to this small, hidden clearing. I took a deep breath and appreciated all of it—the scent of damp earth and her perfume, the distant chirp of crickets, and the overwhelming, terrifyingly wonderful sight of Maddie offering herself to me.
I stepped into her, my chest against her back, and the feel of her, so small and trusting against me, nearly undid me. I lowered my head, and my lips found the sensitive skin of her neck, tasting salt and sweetness. A low groan escaped me, vibrating against her.
“You have no idea what you do to me, Maddie,” I said.
My left hand slid around her waist, under the soft cotton of her shirt, where I felt the frantic beat of her heart against myforearm. My fingers walked up her ribs, tracing each one until I met the lace edge of her bra.
I didn’t fumble. I was a man possessed, driven by a need so deep, it felt primal. I cupped her breast through the fabric, feeling the hard peak of her nipple press into my palm. A sharp, gasping sigh escaped her, her head falling back against my shoulder.
That was all the invitation I needed. My fingers slipped under the lace cup, pushing it roughly aside until I found bare skin. So soft. So perfectly, impossibly soft. And her nipple was a tight bead against my calloused fingertips. I rolled it, pinched it gently, and her whole body jerked against me, a broken whimper catching in her throat.
At the same time, my right hand went to work. The button of her skirt gave way with a faint pop. The zipper hissed down. I didn’t push it down. I let it fall, a pool of thin fabric at her feet.
That left her in just her shirt, her bra pushed aside, and a pair of simple cotton panties. The vulnerability of it, the sheer trust, sent a fresh wave of lust crashing through me. I slid my hand down the curve of her stomach, feeling her clench under my touch, and dipped my fingers beneath the waistband.
Holy. Fucking. Hell.
She was drenched. Soaking wet and hot as hellfire. My fingers slid through her slick folds without any resistance, and a guttural curse was torn from my throat, muffled against her neck.
“Jesus Christ, Maddie,” I growled, my voice ragged. “You’re so fucking wet. So ready for me. God, the feel of you…it’s going to make me come before I’m even inside you.”
I found her clit, a hard, eager pearl amidst all that slick heat, and circled it with my finger. Her hips bucked forward, then pushed back against my hand, seeking more pressure, more friction.
The sounds she made were almost my undoing. Little gasps that hitched into breathy moans. A low, continuous hum of pleasure that vibrated through her and into me. Each one was a spike of pure adrenaline straight to my cock, which was painfully hard, nothing constraining it but the cool night air.
Her movements were becoming more frantic, less controlled. She was rocking against my hand, her ass grinding against my erection with every forward thrust. The dual sensation—the silken heat of her on my fingers and the friction of her ass against my bare cock—was a sweet, exquisite torture. I could feel the tension coiling in my gut, a warning I desperately tried to ignore. This was for her. This first time was all for Maddie.
I focused on her, on the rhythm of my fingers, on the way her body was tightening, singing a song of impending release. I slipped two fingers inside her, and her inner muscles clenched around me in a vice-like grip. Her head rolled back against my shoulder, her eyes squeezed shut.
