Page 86 of Fly Back to Me
“No?” he eggs on.
“No,” I whisper sharply. “Never.”
I whimper when he plants my feet on the outside of his legs.The chill of the wind licks my soaked panties as I’m spread-eagled to the landscape, and he slides my coat off. He lays it down next to us, my back burrowing into him as I stabilize my palms on my hips.
His fingers linger along the exposed skin of my inner thighs, and my heartbeat ricochets in my throat. He flicks the hem of my dress up, my ass lifting shamelessly so he can gather the fabric from underneath me.
He slides the crotch of my panties aside, framing my pussy with two long fingers. I rotate my head to peer up at him, my brows knitting when he squeezes my drenched lips. “A damn sanctuary just for my cock,” he whispers, touching his nose to mine. Then his digits knead my swollen clit. “Can I worship you here?”
His breath tingles across my mouth, his head nodding just as mine does. I moan when he gently pinches my clit, licking my lips when he repeats the foreign gesture a couple times.
My gaze hoods, a trembling sigh escaping me when he yanks the neckline of my dress to pop a naked breast out. His hot palm conceals it instantly, massaging it just as he plays with my pussy for a few more strokes. “Hmm? I don’t think I heard an answer,” he murmurs, tweaking my stiff nipple.
“Yes,” I mewl, quivering from the delicious burn.
Both his hands link in front of me now, and my attention steers to his fiddling fingers. Then he lays one palm on my left thigh, only to trail a cold, rippled object over the skin of my right.
A shiver arises along the tender slope of my flesh, the brush of the cool metal between his fingers forming galaxies out of the stars above.
Cade’s rippled ring caresses me—the very tunnel I walked through to reach him on the other side. The channel to our destiny, now sewing a promise into my skin just like the stitched sky above.
We were written in the stars.
“I think you want my ring somewhere else,” Cade taunts against my ear. “Naughty girl.”
“Yes,” I breathe.
A low growl ejects from his mouth. “Hold those panties to the side. Keep your legs right here.”
I cradle the back of his neck in my left palm, and my free fingers hook into the bunched lace. I hold the sopping lace, a mild breeze rubbing my clit before the draft ignites goosebumps along my legs.
My lower belly strangles as his ring marks a path from my knee. A slow journey that breathes fire until he reaches the apex of my thigh.
I gasp when the cold crests of the metal kiss my warm pussy, his forehead dropping to the crook of my neck right after. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groans.
My head pivots as his raises, our parted lips skating against each other. His fingers languidly drag the ring up to circle my swollen clit, massaging the soaked button before settling it at my entrance.
He recycles the torturous routine, softly lapping up my muted whimpers with a ghost of a suck on my lips. The gentle pressure is just as dreadful as it is between my legs. An unanswered prayer lost in the haze of our mingled breaths.
A ribbon coils deep at my core, body tensing as the balloon of pleasure inflates. Every agonizing stroke to my pussy swelling it, only for it to deflate when his lips and ring abandon me completely.
“Are you a tight girl, Olivia?” His voice grates with lust.
I swallow thickly. “I-I think so.”
“You think so?” he rumbles softly.
“Maybe you should find out,” I breathe, the need for him to fill me too immense to be bashful.
I jolt when his palm smacks my wet pussy, eyes rolling with the tingle that radiates across my sex. My head lolls just enough to stick my gaze to the treetop silhouettes beyond the guardrail, and I pray for him to fuck me with his fingers.
My body is his, not mine anymore. And if there was a contract, I’d spit on the signature line to give myself away sooner.
His mouth grazes the shell of my ear as he settles the ring against my slick hole. The stainless steel is wrapped on the tip of his middle finger, prodding my delicate skin before two fingers plunge into me.
I yelp from the pinched pleasure, my hips bucking on instinct. His free palm locks my inner thigh in place, and then he’s idling inside me. “Oh yeah, that’s a tight little pussy, huh?”
I pulse around his digits, his chin parking against my temple to study the event between my legs. It’s so filthy, but I bite my lip as I peel my left palm from behind his neck to lift the gathered hem of my dress higher.
