Page 7 of Hayrides with Hank
“That’s it, baby,” I murmured against her ear, my voice thick. “Let go. Come for me. Let me feel you come on my hand.”
A high, keening cry started in her throat, and I covered her mouth with my free hand, swallowing the sound. It was instinct, a need to keep this moment ours and ours alone. Her body went rigid against mine, every muscle taut as a bowstring.
Then she came. A series of violent, beautiful tremors wracked her frame, her inner muscles milking my fingers, her cry a muffled, desperate thing against my palm. I held her through it, my own body trembling with the effort of holding back, of just watching her fly apart because of me.
As the last waves of her orgasm subsided, she went boneless against me, her weight supported by the tree and my body. I slowly withdrew my hand, bringing my glistening fingers to my mouth and tasting her. Sweet. Addictive. Mine.
She started to turn, her movements languid and sated, her eyes hazy with pleasure. Her hand reached for me, for my cock, a clear intent in her drowsy gaze. To reciprocate. To pleasure me.
I stopped her, my hand gentle but firm on her hip. “No,” I said, my voice rough with need. “Stay just like that. Hands on the tree.”
A flicker of surprise, then deeper arousal, crossed her face. She obeyed, turning back and settling her palms against the rough bark once more, presenting herself to me. This was it. The point of no return. My heart was hammering against my ribs like it wanted out. I positioned myself at her entrance, the broad head of my cock nudging against her incredible wetness. I met her eyes over her shoulder, needing to see her, to know this was okay.
“Your first time,” I breathed, more a reminder to myself than to her. “I’ll go slow. Tell me if it hurts too much.”
She nodded, her breath catching. “Please, Hank. I need you.”
That was all it took. I pushed forward, just an inch—a shallow, careful penetration.
She was so tight. Unbelievably tight. A gasp, sharp and different from her sounds of pleasure, escaped her. In the moonlight, I saw the way her knuckles whitened against the tree.
I froze instantly. “Okay?”
“It…stings,” she whispered, and the vulnerability in her voice cleaved my heart in two.
“I know, baby. I know.” I didn’t pull out. Instead, I brought my hand back around, my fingers finding her clit again. I circled it, slow and gentle, distracting her, pulling her back from the edge of pain. “Focus on this. Focus on my touch. Just relax for me.”
I began to move, the shallowest of motions, barely withdrawing before sliding back in. My world narrowed to the feel of her—the incredible heat hugging the tip of my cock, thesoft skin of her neck under my lips, the frantic little pulse at her throat, the rapidly returning wetness on my fingers as I worked her.
The initial sting seemed to be fading, replaced by a new, building tension. Her hips gave a tentative little push back against me.
“That’s it,” I encouraged her, my voice a hoarse whisper. “That’s my girl. You feel so good, Maddie. So perfect.”
And she was. It was obvious the pain was forgotten, eclipsed by a gathering storm of a second climax. I could feel it building in the way her breath hitched, in the way her inner muscles began to flutter around me. She was going to come. Again. The realization was the most potent aphrodisiac I’d ever known.
I increased the pace of my fingers just slightly, my own shallow thrusts becoming a fraction deeper, but still careful, still holding back the primal need to plunge into her to the hilt.
That’s when I saw them.
Movement. Through the lattice of branches, maybe fifty yards away, at the edge of the clearing where our abandoned picnic remained. A beam of a flashlight swept over our blanket. A man’s laugh, followed by a woman’s higher-pitched giggle. A couple. Probably teenagers looking for a spot. They’d found ours.
A jolt of pure, unadulterated adrenaline shot through me. They were too far to see us, shrouded as we were by the thick trunk and the deepening shadows. But they were there. They could, at any moment, decide to venture deeper into the woods. The risk was immediate, terrifying, and it made my already-thrumming arousal spike into something dangerously intense. The forbidden nature of it, the sheer audacity of what we were doing with witnesses so close, was a drug.
I leaned forward, my chest plastered to Maddie’s back, my mouth against her ear. My voice was the lowest, most urgentwhisper. “Don’t make a sound, baby. There’s someone out there.”
I expected her to freeze. To panic. To clamp down around me and kill the moment stone dead.
I was wrong.
A full-body shudder wracked her frame. But it wasn’t fear. It was pure, undiluted excitement. The moan she stifled was one of the hottest things I’d ever heard. The knowledge that we could be discovered, that these strangers were obliviously standing mere yards from where I was buried inside the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, ignited something in her too.
Her back arched, pushing her ass harder against me, taking me that tiny bit deeper. Her hips began to move against my hand with a new, desperate rhythm.
“You like that?” I whispered, awestruck and so turned on I could barely see straight. “You like that they’re so close? Knowing I’m making you come while they’re right there?”
Her answer was a frantic, silent nod, her hair brushing my cheek. She was hurtling toward her peak, driven now by the danger as much as by my touch. I could feel her orgasm gathering, a tsunami about to break.
I focused everything I had on her, on the little bundle of nerves under my fingers, on the shallow, rhythmic push of my hips. My own control was hanging by a thread, frayed by her sounds, her heat, and the illicit thrill of the audience just beyond the trees.
