Page 33 of Love Deep
“Fuck, Juniper.” I pull away from her and set her down on her feet as far as my arms will reach. “You’re… too sexy. I want you too much.”
“Do you have condoms?” she asks.
“Yeah.” I try to think if I’ve ever had sex in water before. I don’t think I have. I don’t know how condoms work in water. Is it safe?
“Let’s get out,” she says. An easy solution that I couldn’t think of; my brain is so frazzled from being so close to Juniper.
Back on solid ground, I pick up the blanket, letting what’s left of our picnic fall onto the grass, and then I set it back down again.
She sits, and I can’t look away. I’m mesmerized by her every movement. The way she looks at me. Her body. She’s incredible.
“Condoms,” she says, pulling me back to the moment.
“Right,” I say.
I get my wallet and join her on the blanket. We’re lying on our sides, our heads propped up on our hands. I try and keep my eyes focused on her face, but her body in the moonlight is lit up like she’s carved out of marble. She’s timeless. Perfect.
“If you haven’t dated in three years, does that mean…”
“I haven’t had sex in a long time.” She trails her finger over my shoulder. The same shoulder she kissed in the truck after I drove her home. Despite the heat, it sends a shiver down my spine. “So, no need to get performance anxiety on my behalf.”
I grin. “Oh, I’m not worried I won’t perform. I’m slightly worried I might break you though.”
She takes my hand and places it over her breast. “You won’t break me, Fisher.”
Her breasts are full and firm and so soft. I pull her against me and then flip her to her back, my entire body over hers, pinning her to the ground.
“You’re so beautiful, Juniper.”
She opens her legs, and my cock connects with her pussy. Except the wetness this time isn’t water. It’s all her. Jesus. I want to slide into her bare and feel her all around me, drenching my cock. But I need to think straight.
I drop my face to her neck and hold her arms out wide to give me access to all of her. I press kisses over her collarbones,over her arms, down between her breasts. I take her nipple in my mouth, sucking, licking, grazing my teeth over the puckered flesh until she’s squirming underneath me.
But squirming won’t do it.
I want her to beg.
Releasing her arms, I skirt down her body, my hand going between us. I want to feel her wetness on my fingers. I slide a finger over her clit, and her juices cover me. Looking her in the eye, I lift my finger and put it in my mouth.
“Pure honey,” I say. “I want more.”
I work my way down her body, kissing, pressing, touching. When I get to her pussy, I press her legs wide open. The moonlight isn’t enough. I want a goddamn surgical light to examine her in all her perfection.
“Fisher,” she calls.
“What was that?” I ask.
“Fisher,” she says louder.
“Yes, baby? What is it?”
Her breaths are heavy, and she arches her back. “Please, Fisher. I want you.”
I groan. That’s what I want to hear—pure desperation.
I dive between her legs. She’s so sweet. So wet. So perfectly mine.
Her hands fly to my hair as I work my tongue over her clit, down her folds, around her entrance. She cries out, bucking up against me, and I have to pin her hips to the floor.
