Page 63 of A Vine Mess
“We’re a mess,” she said when she regained her composure sometime later.
Reaching out, I twirled a damp lock of her hair around my finger. “You’re kinda sexy like this.”
She looked down at herself, at her bra and her nipples pointed against the fabric, then pointedly back up at me. “Youwouldthink so.”
I chuckled but didn’t disagree. Beyond the van, the rain had let up from a deluge to a trickle, so I backed out of the space and set off for the cabin.
When we pulled up to hour rental an hour later, the sun had completely set and, despite the heat in the van cranked all the way up, both Ella and I shivered in our wet clothing.
“I d-don’t know about y-you,” she said through chattering teeth, “but I-I’m going to t-take a s-shower to warm up.”
“S-sounds good,” I stuttered in response. “I’ll throw s-some d-dinner in then do the s-same.”
Without a backward glance, Ella power-walked down the hall in the direction of the guest bath, and though my limbs were stiff and shaking, I quickly cobbled together a chicken andbroccoli bake thanks to years of experience prepping that particular meal, then I disappeared into the master suite and the massive, glass-enclosed, walk-in shower that had more nozzles and spouts and heads than I knew what to do with.
I found the knob for the rain shower head and turned it on until the water was warm enough to prickle my skin. I was so fucking cold, all the way down to my bones, my balls damn near shriveled up inside my body for protection, that I wanted to fry myself alive in this shower just to get some warmth back into my limbs.
My wet clothes clung to me as I stripped out of them, and I was breathing a little hard—mostly in frustration—by the time I was free and stepping under the spray.
Everything melted away the moment that hot water hit my skin, though, my entire body coming back to life. And then I was frustrated for a whole new reason.
Our first kiss had been cut short, and I wasn’t sure when we’d get the chance again. But god, seeing her soaking wet, those nipples and the little barbells passing through them like beacons attempting to guide me into her body…I was a man with a finite amount of self-control, and this trip had drained ninety-nine percent of it.
I didn’t think twice when my cock stiffened, blood flow returning to my body full force. I took myself in my hand and squeezed almost too tightly, my vision going a little hazy at how fucking good it felt. And once again, I imagined it was her as I worked myself over.
A little gasp from the doorway had my head jerking upright, my hand stalling on my shaft, and I found Ella standing in thedoorway in an oversized shirt—myshirt, I realized with no small amount of satisfaction—miles-long legs on full display.
“Hey, Wildflower,” I said, my voice like gravel.
“I’m sorry,” she said, though she made no move to look away or retreat. “You’re just so…everything.”
The final word was a soft exhale, and I choked on a laugh.
“I don’t mind,” I replied hoarsely. “You can look.”
In fact, Ilovedthat she was looking; my cock had grown impossibly harder under those hypnotic green eyes.
Emboldened by the intimacy of the moment, I added, “You could even touch if you wanted.”
After over a week on the road with her constant companionship, I was barely leashed. I wanted her so badly I couldn’t fucking think straight, and that kiss on the trail had done nothing to quell my desire. While she made up her mind, I fought against an onslaught of filthy images, of wondering what her cunt would feel like wrapped around my fingers, my cock. How she’d taste. The sounds she’d make.
Looking was…safe.Touchingwas dangerous. Touching this girl would be my undoing.
But I was ready to unravel us—if only so we could come together as something better and stronger.
Ella continued to stare, her fingers toying with the frayed hem of my tee.
I braced myself for her rejection, but once again, this girl surprised me.
With a swift movement, she gripped the tee and pulled it off, leaving her standing at the entrance to the bathroom in nothing but a pale pink thong, a barely-there scrap of lace that wassheer enough for me to see the spot where her pussy lips met at her pubic bone.
I felt like one of those cartoon characters whose eyes bugged out of its head when presented with something it liked. Because Ella Delatou, half-naked, her perky, pierced tits and curves on display for me? I liked thata lot.
She toyed with the thin straps at her hips, brazenly staring at me, waiting for my next move.
“What do you want, Wildflower?”
She shook her head. “You first.”
