Page 21 of Forever Finds Us
Gripping my waist, she slammed the front of my body to hers, pressing me against her and holding me there, as if she’d never let me escape.
I didn’t want her to let go.
My body sought hers with an intensity I hadn’t experienced in a very long time.
I’d had sex, dated a few women over the years. None of them had been anything like Roxanne. She wasn’t my type, or at least the type I’d thought all those years was mine. The women I’d dated had been the definition of feminine, had worn high heels and a lot of makeup. They’d all felt small standing next to me, and most of them had long hair. Roxanne’s was barely shoulder length, and the only makeup I’d noticed was ChapStick or lip gloss and maybe a little mascara.
She needn’t have bothered with any of it, though, because her skin was bright and beautiful, her eyes warm and inviting. The look in them always made me think of home.
She was kind of a tomboy, a little rough around her tall edges, but I couldn’t remember wanting any of those women the way I wanted Roxanne.
Why was that? I hardly knew her.
Rubbing myself against her, I bent my knees and notched my hard cock between her long legs over our clothes, eliciting a gasp from her mouth, and she began to back us toward the king bed.
When we got there, I pulled her hands away from my ass cheeks, where her short fingernails had been trying to pierce my skin through my jeans, and I pushed her gently.
She fell back on the mattress, instantly messing up the sheets and blanket, and the moon’s glow from a gap in the curtains outlined her body in perfect detail. Her hair lay in a pool of sandy brown silk that formed a halo around her head, and she moaned as I looked at her. I tugged at her boots. They came off first, and then her socks, and she scrunched her bare toes.
Every part of her was long and sexy—her legs, her fingers, her neck. I wanted to take my time, wanted to undress her slowly and look at all of her, but the need inside me to feel her urged me to move.
I unbuttoned her pants again, unzipped them, and slid my hand over the soft skin below her navel. But as I looked down, I realized I was filthy from our search for Natalie. Dirt covered my hands and had worked its way beneath my fingernails.
“Hold that thought. I need to wash my hands.”
“What?” She whimpered again, rubbing her thighs together. “Hurry up!”
I rushed to the bathroom, flipped on the light, and twisted the knob for the hot water, wishing I had a fingernail brush. I didn’t want to touch her beautiful body with anything less than perfectly clean hands, but before the water had even heated up, she was behind me, silently lifting my T-shirt over my head and watching my face in the big bathroom mirror.
My hat fell with my shirt, and she scratched her nails in the short hair at the back of my neck, then kissed a slow trail down my spine. Every cell inside my body came to attention at the touch of her lips on my skin.
As she slid her hands over mine and led them under the now warm water, she said softly, “I want you just like you said back on the mountain—in the shower.”
She took a moment to unwrap the tiny, complimentary bar of hand soap and lathered it between her palms, then caressed her fingers over mine, working the soap between them and over the tips.
It was such a personal, intimate way to touch someone she barely knew, and something about her touching me like that made me want to possess her. To mark her somehow, make her mine. I couldn’t remember the last time a woman had cared for me like that. Maybe no one ever had.
My eyes never left her reflection in the mirror, and she rested her chin on my shoulder, but again, eye contact didn’t seem to be easy for her.
Her skin was hot against mine, and her wet hands moved to my fly. She popped it open and unzipped my jeans, and then her hand slid beneath my boxers and gripped my hard-on tightly. She pumped, and my eyes rolled closed, my hips thrusting and trying to chase the motion. When she pumped again, breath rushed from my mouth in a low groan.
Something snapped inside me then. My eyes flew open and finally held hers in the mirror, silently asking her consent to go at her hard. She seemed to understand. She lifted one sexy eyebrow, but then she nodded. Just once, but it was all I needed.
Spinning to face her, I almost ripped the plain, white T-shirt she’d been wearing beneath her uniform over her head, pushed her pants and what looked like a sexy, feminine version of a pair of men’s white boxer briefs down her legs. Her white bra clasped in the front, and I flicked it open and watched it fall to the floor, watched how her nipples tightened and beaded into peaks for me.
I knelt at her feet on the hard tile, and her hands clamped down on my shoulders as I looked up at her and slipped two fingers inside her pussy, watching as her eyes rolled closed and any lingering tension eased out of her body.
Her shaking exhale and rasping moan were the only sounds in the whole state of Wyoming, or it felt that way. The sounds caressed the air around us and whispered over my head, and she swayed but reached for the wall with one hand to steady herself.
She was ready and waiting for me, wet like water, and I smashed my face to her body, spreading her open with two fingers and seeking her clit with my tongue.
When I found it and lapped at it with the flat of the muscle, she laughed softly and breathed, “Yes. Oh yes, please.”
It didn’t take long to make her come. She rode my hand hard. She wasn’t shy or bashful about it, and I worked at her clit while my fingers pumped furiously, until she exploded around them, her hands buried in my hair, her head tipped to the ceiling.
I said nothing, but I untangled her hands and placed them at her sides, and then I rose slowly and stood.
We weren’t making it into the shower. There was no time for that.
