Page 100 of Road Trip to Forever
My fingers move up her leg to the front of her shorts and I press the heel of my palm against her. I can feel how wet she is through the thin scarp of cotton. Telling me just how much she wants this, and how much she wantsme.
I look down at where we’re touching as I slide my hand under the only barrier separating me from nirvana. I nudge her chin with my nose, silently telling her she can watch too, and she blows out a breath. I’m greeted with bare skin and nothing stopping me from sinking my fingers into her. Stretching her wide and seeing how much she can take at one time.
Patience,I tell myself.
I hate that damn word.
“Fuck,” I whisper. I’m so hard, I use my free hand to palm myself. “Fuck, Lola.”
“Take them off,” she says. “Please.”
My mind spins into overdrive as I wrap the tiny drawstrings around my finger and give a little tug. She lifts her hips and I gently yank the shorts, watching as they fall down her thighs to her knees and over her shins before I cast them aside.
She’s naked in front of me, her body like a goddess made of curves and divots and stretch marks on the sides of her thighs. Something you’d find in a painting—perfect proportions, perfect size, perfect everything. I could get lost in her, the skin around her hips and the tone of her legs. I’ve never seen a more wondrous sight.
“Patrick. Look at me.”
I raise my chin and meet Lola’s eyes. A bead of sweat rolls down my cheek and she wipes it away with her thumb. I’m trying to be good. I’m trying so fucking hard to do thisright, but when her eyes are hooded and she’s asking me to look at her, it makes me want to sayfuck itand sink into her with a single thrust.
“You’re beautiful,” I say, my voice hoarse, my throat dry. My vision is hazy, her figure blurring around the edges the longer I stare. “So beautiful.”
“Talk to me. What are you thinking about?”
“Selfish things. Greedy things. How I would have you and what I think you’d like.”
“I want you to be selfish and greedy, because I’m giving you all that I have,” she says, the intention thick with desire.
“Fuckingfinally,” I say around a long exhale. “Spread your legs, honey. Let me see how wet you are for me.”
Her knees part and drop open slightly. I wrap my hands around her thighs and spread them farther apart, wide enough to accommodate me. I move down the mattress, my stomach against the bed, ready for more.
“Last time you were with someone?” I ask.
“Five months ago,” she pants, the end of the sentence going up an octave when I kiss her hip. “Tested recently.”
“Me too. I want you to communicate with me, okay? You’re going to tell me if you like something so I can make this good for you. And if you don’t like something, you’re going to tell me that too.”
“Always so selfless. You’re such a giver,” she says through a strained breath, and I can hear her smile.
“I am a giver. But tonight, I’m going to take what’s mine. What’sonlymine. For good.”
It’s the only warning I give her before my thumb finds her clit and I stroke her twice.
TWENTY-EIGHT
LOLA
I can tellthe moment Patrick’s restraint breaks. The exact second his control shatters into a million fragmented pieces of wonderment and want.
He turns less polite and becomes more in control, touching me with deft precision and the one to set the pace. The flick of his wrist against my thigh and the circle of his thumb between my legs. Finding the places where I’m most sensitive and humming in approval when I arch my back off the mattress and chantPlease.
He adjusts each time he decides I’m not giving him enough affirmation of my enjoyment, changing his rhythm or his position to get a better angle. He figures me out in a heartbeat, nodding and smiling against the inside of my knee when I make a particularly grateful noise like he’sproudof me.
My spine pulls tight as he touches my clit, and warmth builds in my stomach. My toes curl against the sheets. It’s difficult to see, my eyes starting to close as I chase a high, but I fight it, wanting to seehim.
It’s unreal to watch him like this, the man with an affinity for spreadsheets and calendar reminders with his head between my legs and his gaze locked on mine. His cheeks are flushed and the tips of his ears are pink. There’s a determined look in his eye, tenderness in the way he’s studying me as I lie here, bare and open for him, not an ounce of boredom or indifference on his face.
When he finally slides a finger inside of me, the sound he makes is obscene. My moan matches his, satisfaction on the tips of our tongues.
