Page 37 of Waitress at the Shadow Ridge Inn
“Off,” he commanded roughly, stroking the edges of my flannel.
Instead of lifting it over my head, I began to unbutton it slowly. His eyes watched my fingers with lusty fascination, and I felt a surge of feminine satisfaction. His fascination turned audible when I peeled the sides apart. I wasn’t wearing a bra.
He wasted no time in cupping my breasts and lowering his mouth. His tongue was magical. When he sucked a hardened tip, I felt it all the way down into my toes. I thrust my hands into his silky chestnut hair and scratched his scalp in encouragement, even as I arched my back in a silent plea for more.
Just that quickly, I was panting and needy again.
Steve tugged impatiently at my yoga pants, making quick work of both them and my soaked panties. Then, he was dragging me forward, positioning my legs over his broad shoulders, planting his ass on a chair, and burying his face between my thighs.
I made a sound I was certain I’d never made before in my life and leaned back on my arms to give him better access. No man had ever attacked me with such fervor, as if there was nothing he wanted more than to devour me.
Nor had I ever encountered a man so damn good at it.
I lifted my hips and rode his face like a woman possessed because in those moments, that was exactly what I was. His lips, his tongue, his fingers worked together in seamless harmony, bringing me to a swift and brutal second peak, this one even stronger than the first one.
I wondered if I’d blacked out for a moment because I’d no sooner screamed out his name than there he was, wrapped and ready and so incredibly thick and hard, his broad head nudging my entrance.
“Tell me no, and this ends now,” he grated out, searching my eyes.
As if.
“In me,” I rasped. “Now.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He pushed his hips forward, impaling me as I stretched to accommodate him. Even as primed as I was, it was a snug fit. I could see the strain on his face as he struggled to go slow. It was at once agony and ecstasy—for both of us.
When he was seated so fully inside me that I could feel his balls tight and heavy against me, he asked, “Okay?”
“Better than,” I assured him breathlessly.
Yes, I was reduced to one- and two-worded responses because at that point, my mind was capable only of conveying the most primitive of urges in the most expedient way possible.
I kept one hand on the counter for support, but moved the other to his shoulder, basking in the sensation of his muscles flexing while he pumped into me. It wasn’t long before he pressed his thumb against my clit and I was coming again, this time with him inside of me and me screaming in absolute bliss.
As good as the first two orgasms had been, they couldn’t compare. Lights exploded behind my eyes. My body became weightless. I swore I heard music as I clenched around him and felt him pulsing against the inner walls of my channel. The primal woman in me wished I could feel his wet heat filling me too. I’d never allowed a man to come inside me before, so that fierce longing for him to was unexpected.
Then again, nothing about this man was expected.
When we were both spent, he rested his forehead against mine.
“You okay?” he asked softly, his eyes probing.
I almost laughed at the absurdity of the question. Three orgasms in a row, each one better than the last? Physically, I was soaring.
However, I didn’t think he was talking about physically, and I wasn’t ready to deal with any other aspect yet. There would be plenty of time for introspection and regret later.
“Seriously?” I said, pretending to misunderstand. “Me screaming your name didn’t clue you in?”
His lips quirked a little at that.
“Although, to be honest, that wasn’t exactly what I meant when I asked you to give me a ride,” I added cheekily.
He laughed, a low rumbling sound, and countered with, “And that wasn’t whatImeant when I asked you to let me in.”
I felt the heat rising in my cheeks. Now that I was free-falling my way back to earth, I was regaining some of the modesty that had gone completely off-grid when he kissed me.
“I guess we both have to work on our communication skills. But for the record, feel free to misunderstand me again.”
His eyes blazed with heat and hunger before he shuttered them. He pulled slowly out of me, leaving me feeling strangely bereft. Then, he helped me off the counter and held me for a minute while my still-quivering legs remembered how to hold me up.
