Page 142 of Story of My Life
“I’ll be the judge of that,” she decided smugly.
I led the way to my truck where I’d left it in the back corner of the lot, out of view from the lodge.
“Did you plan this or were you just trying to make sure no one dented your doors?” she asked as I pulled her around the far side of the truck and opened the rear passenger door.
The upside to living in a near ghost town was that the likelihood of someone stumbling across you having sex was practically nonexistent. Out here, on this dark summer night, there was nothing but shadows and forest.
“Weren’t we supposed to talk about the whole same-page, no-strings-attached-sex thing?” she asked breathlessly.
That had been an uncharacteristic demand of mine. But I’d wanted her to be sure, to understand this wasn’t going to go anywhere. “Fine. You still good with having sex with me?” I asked gruffly, leaning around her to slap off the interior light.
She turned slowly to face me, the sliver of moonlight making her look goddamn breathtaking. “Yep. You?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Great,” she said, reaching for my zipper.
“Ladies first.” I lifted her up and planted her sideways on the back seat.
“From a research standpoint, I had no idea how hot manhandling could be,” she whispered as I reached for the waistband of her pants.
I tugged her pants down those long, smooth legs and threw them into the front seat.
“What the hell kind of shirt is this?” I demanded.
“It’s a bodysuit,” she said, pointing to the snaps between her legs.
On a growl, I hooked my finger beneath the material and yanked. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and it took a Herculean effort not to just rip off my pants and drive us both mad.
“Here?” she gasped.
“Here,” I insisted, lazily sinking two fingers into her.
“Gah!” She collapsed back on the seat, clamping a hand over her mouth as those slick, smooth walls closed around me.
I thrust my fingers in deeper, crooking them at just the right angle.
“I spent the entire dinner thinking about doing this,” I confessed.
Hazel’s muffled moan was music to my fucking ears.
Withdrawing my fingers, I yanked her hips to the edge of the seat and leaned down. When my mouth found her, she jackknifed halfway up. But when I separated her damp folds and gave that first stroke of my tongue, she melted back down on a quiet cry.
Draping her legs over my shoulders, I applied myself to memorizing her flavor.
Her fingers found my hair and gripped as her hips bucked against my greedy mouth. I was hard, throbbing, desperate to be inside her, but I wanted her desperation first. I wanted to drive her as wild as she drove me. My fingers joined my mouth in sending her higher, wilder. Her grip tightened on my hair, my fingers, and I knew she was close. I needed to taste her release.
She had both hands fisted in my hair now. “Campbell!” Her cry echoed in the night, making my cock throb. I hummed my approval and covered her mouth with my free hand just as she came apart.
The taste of her orgasm on my tongue was fucking intoxicating. Her pleasure, a drug that careened through my system. I drew it out as long as I could, ignoring my own razor-edged desire. When it was over, when the last tremor passed, I expected her to go boneless so I could take my time working her up again. Savoring her.
But Hazel was wriggling out from under my mouth, then gripping me by the shirt and dragging me into the back seat. Frantic hands yanked down my zipper and—with a little help—shoved my pants down to my thighs. My erection jumped free like it was spring-loaded.
And the last thing I heard was Hazel’s triumphant sigh before her mouth found the crown of my cock.
The unexpected pleasure had me slamming my head into the headrest and mindlessly thrusting my hips up to meet her.
“Christ,” I hissed, as she opened those lips and took me deep with that hot, wet mouth.
