by Tara Sivec
I make quick work of the momentary loss of his lips to grab the wet material of his T-shirt, yanking it up and over his head, tossing it to the side right as Palmer’s hands grab the straps of my tank top and rip them down my arms until the wet cotton is pooling around my waist with my skirt.
“Goddamn angel I want to defile,” he whispers, skimming his palm down the center of my chest, between my cleavage the white lace push-up bra provides, and down over my stomach that quickly dips with each panting breath I take.
My body shivers as I watch him stare at the path his hand takes down my wet skin as I clench my thighs tighter around his hips and push my shoulders harder into the wall behind me, arching my back.
Palmer lets out a guttural groan as he takes a few seconds to look down at me, my back against the wall as I squirm against him with need, watching him lick his lips as his eyes take in their fill. My hands grip tightly to his upper arms, my legs are locked securely around his waist, thighs spread wide to accommodate his hips, white lace-covered pussy pressed right up against his thick cock straining inside his wet shorts. I have just enough time to skim my fingertips up his washboard abs and take a few more gasping breaths while I watch his green eyes darken as they stare down at my hard, pink nipples through the white lace of my bra before he’s taking my breath away again. His hands fly to my breasts, and his head quickly dips, my fingers hastily lacing through his hair to clutch the back of his head when he roughly squeezes and pushes my tits together, wrapping his mouth over the lace of one hard nipple and sucking it into his mouth.
“Oh my fucking God,” are the first words I mutter inside this shed, my head thumping back against the wall while he sucks and tugs and swirls his tongue around my lace-covered nipple.
My hips are jerking erratically against him, needing to come so badly I can barely think straight, but his mouth leaves my nipple and his lips and tongue quickly make their way up my chest and the side of my neck until his mouth is on mine again, swallowing my throaty cries of need. My legs unwind from around Palmer’s waist, and my toes land on the ground long enough for him to tear his mouth from mine once again, hook his thumbs in the straps of my thong by my hips, and yank the thin lace roughly down my thighs as he bends down so I can kick it off. He’s quickly kissing his way back up my body until he’s standing again, his hands are clutching the backs of my thighs once more, and he’s lifting me up and anchoring me against the wall as I lock my legs around his waist again. His head dips down, and his lips and tongue torture the side of my neck with licks and nips of his teeth until I’m gasping and moaning. Both of us reach between our bodies to pull his shorts down his hips and over his ass just far enough for his cock to spring free.
Lightning brightens the room, thunder crashes above us, Palmer’s mouth slams against mine, and my arms wrap tightly around his shoulders, ankles locking together at his lower back, thighs clenching and pulling him closer, needing him now. I suck his tongue into my mouth, dripping with need when I hear him moan, feeling his hand working between our bodies, the head of his cock slipping through my wetness…
It’s not a dream. It’s not a fantasy. This is really happening, and oh God, he’s going to absolutely wreck me.
My fingernails claw at his back as his head tilts to the other side, changing the angle of the kiss, one of his hands coming up to grip the front of my throat again, my pulse heavy and racing under his thumb as he gently squeezes, and our mouths open wider. His tongue plunges deeper. I’ve never been kissed like this before, like he’s stealing the breath from my lungs, marking me so I’ll never be able to use my mouth again without remembering this moment. And I want to give it all to him, let him take everything I have to give, since it’s been his from the first moment I met him anyway.
Thunder booms again outside. I’m whimpering into his kiss, my body shaking, needing him to ease the burn and take away the ache. I’ve dreamed about this moment and fantasized about this for fifteen years, but nothing prepares me for the moment when Palmer’s free arm wraps tightly around my waist, he breaks off the kiss, and he tightens his grip on my throat to force me to look into his eyes.
“This is gonna change everything,” he speaks in a low, deep voice, bending his knees and moving his hips forward just enough for the head of his cock to slide inside me, both of us moaning loudly. My nails dig in harder to the skin of his shoulders, my ankles locking together tighter against his lower back, as I feel his own body vibrating with need, shaking under my hands and between my legs.
I want to squeeze my eyes closed the sensations are almost too much to bear, but I can’t take my eyes off of this beautiful man standing between my thighs, my best friend… my everything, gripping me so tightly he’s going to leave bruises. His green eyes are dark with desire as he pants against my mouth, not daring to move even one more inch until he’s sure I’m okay with this, even though I can tell it’s killing him.
“It’s about fucking time,” is all I manage to shakily whisper.
The words are barely past my lips before Palmer’s hips are quickly pulling back, and then he slams his cock inside me in one hard, deep thrust that jerks my body higher up the wall.
“Sweet fucking Christ,” he moans loudly, clenching his teeth when he’s finally inside me, his eyes flaring with uncontrolled need as he pulls his hips back just the tiniest bit then fucks into me roughly again.
“Palmer!” His name whooshes out of me on a strangled cry, the last of my walls with this man crumbling to the ground when I feel him hot, thick, heavy, and pulsing inside me.
His body immediately stills when I say his name, the grip he has on my throat tightening, green eyes boring a hole right through me as he pants, holding himself absolutely motionless inside me while my pussy clenches around him, needing him to move.
This is real. It’s not a dream. It’s not a fantasy. He’s so full and perfect inside me, and oh God, he’s going to ruin me.
“So that’s all it took to get you to say my fucking name,” he growls, making my heart constrict in my chest as I bring one of my hands up to rest on top of the one he still has wrapped around my throat.
It’s so goddamn hot I don’t know how I’m going to survive this, or how I’m ever going to walk by this shed again without getting wet and needing him inside me.
Clutching onto a handful of his hair with my other hand, I yank his face back to mine, finished with all this talking bullshit. As soon as his mouth is on mine again, Palmer’s hips start moving again, his cock starts pounding into me, and everything goes back to being frantic and needy and fast, except the only thing erratically moving right now is the lower half of Palmer’s body.
Pulling his mouth away from mine again, with both of our hands still gripping my throat and our eyes locked on each other, Palmer’s hips piston between my thighs, fucking me roughly against the wall, each thick, deep plunge of his cock inside me making me see stars behind my eyes, incoherent moans and cries for more gasping out of my mouth. The pulsing in my clit that’s been aching and needy since the day he backed me into the bar grows stronger and stronger with each slam of his groin between my thighs.
Our grip on my throat tightens again, and Palmer suddenly dips his face until his mouth is right by my ear, his smooth, thick thrusts never stopping, his knees bending so he can get more leverage and drive up into me deeper.
“Do you have any idea how many nights I’ve jerked off to thoughts of being buried inside you?” he growls in my ear, everything between my legs getting impossibly wetter and slicker and needier hearing him talk to me like this while he takes me against a wall, and there’s no delaying my release any longer.
“Oh God,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes closed as Palmer’s mouth still hovers by my ear, his hot breath panting against the shell as he drives into me. “Palmer… Palmer…”
Every time I say his name, it’s like a bolt of electricity shooting through his body, and his strokes get harder, rougher, his hips spreading my thighs wider as he drives into me
over and over, his words in my ear dirtier as he pushes me closer and closer to a release I’m sure I won’t survive. Mumbled words tumble out of my mouth in between pants of his name, pleading and begging, harder, more, don’t stop…
“Christ, your pussy is so tight… so goddamn perfect. Jesus. Fucking hell, Birdie. I can’t….”
As soon as Palmer says my name followed by animalistic grunts and moans against my ear as each of his thrusts become impossibly deeper and more powerful, and I can tell he’s barely holding on, I’m hurtling over the edge, screaming his name as I come.
I cling to him tightly, letting wave after wave of intense pleasure explode out of me as Palmer pumps and bucks his hips wildly and impales me with his cock, my release milking him, the wet, sweaty slapping of our bodies louder than the rain outside. Palmer quickly flies right over the edge with me. He drives in rough and holds himself still, filling me deep and coming hard.
“Fuuuck, Birdie. Oh fuck, you’re so goddamn perfect,” he moans in my ear, his hips jerking between my legs, his cock pulsing inside me with his release.
I want to tell him I love him. That I’ve been in love with him since the day I met him and no amount of time, or distance, or dating other people, or hurt could have ever changed that, and I was an idiot for thinking it would, but nothing comes out of my mouth. My best friend, my everything is still thick and hard inside me, his hips twitching between my tightly clenched thighs around his waist with the last of his orgasm, and I’m already worrying about what this means. He said it would change everything. In a good way? In a bad way? Does he even want more than just this one stolen moment in a maintenance shed during a thunderstorm?
Maybe it’s the fact that we know each other so well and he could immediately sense what was going through my mind, or maybe he’s spent enough time staying quiet about how he feels, and now that it’s out in the open, he’s not hiding it anymore. Whatever it is, with Palmer’s hand still clutching to my throat and his lips still pressed against my ear, he thrusts into me deeply one last time, making me gasp as another hoarse growl comes out of his mouth against the shell of my ear.
“Mine.”
CHAPTER 19
Palmer
“Don’t tee me off.”
Rapid heart rate… check.
Chest pains… check.
Shallow breathing… check.
Dizziness, sweating, nausea… check, check, motherfucking check.
Cue the panic attack!
“Where in the hell is my underwear?” Birdie mutters, wandering around the small shed that now feels like it’s 800 degrees inside, moving rakes and looking behind shovels as she pulls the straps of her damp, wrinkly tank top back up to her shoulders that was shoved down to her waist.
That I shoved down to her waist, along with her skirt that I yanked up, and her goddamn underwear that I ripped off like a caveman and tossed… who the hell knows where.
“Seriously, it’s a small scrap of lace. It didn’t just get up and walk away,” Birdie continues to complain, oblivious to the fact that I’m still standing here with my shorts shoved down to my upper thighs and my dick and my ass hanging out, having a panic attack ever since she unwound her legs from my waist and I had to pull out of her.
What the fuck have I done?! I just ravaged my best friend… my person against the goddamn wall of a maintenance shed!
Just watching Birdie, so clean, beautiful, and perfect, brushing her tangled, wet hair out of her face, getting down on her hands and knees on the fucking filthy floor to look under the dirty, disgusting riding lawn mower to try to find her clean, lacy piece of clothing that I yanked off of her so hard I heard it rip a little and then tossed to the side like it was trash makes that nausea turn into full-blown vomit working its way up my throat.
“I’m sorry.”
My words come out quiet and scratchy, and I have to clear my throat over the ball of shame currently sitting right behind my Adam’s apple. At least the storm has started moving away and I don’t have to shout over the pounding rain against the roof, since it’s pretty much stopped.
She deserves so much better than this.
“It’s fine.” Birdie waves me away with a distracted flap of her hand as she gets up from the floor and brushes her knees off. “It was a thong from Target. I have plenty more.” She snorts a little, readjusting her wrinkled tank top and equally creased and crumpled short skirt, trying to smooth it out when she stands facing me a few feet away.
She’s not wearing any underwear under that skirt. I had to give her my wrinkled, wet T-shirt so she could wipe away my cum dripping out of her and down the inside of her thighs.
Wow, it’s getting hotter in here.
No! Stop being a horny asshole. You just defiled her against a wall like she meant nothing to you! You don’t get the pleasure of getting hard again right now.
Birdie’s hand brushes her hair off one shoulder, and a quiet, miserable moan comes out of me when I see a small, red bite mark on her perfect skin right where her neck connects to her shoulder.
Jesus Christ, I’m a fucking animal. Why is she even still in this room with me right now?
“Birdie… I’m sorry.” My words are a whisper I can barely get out of my mouth, my hands shaking with the need to run them softly and delicately over every inch of her body I touched too roughly, gripped too hard, needed too much…. She’s probably got bruises on her ass and marks on her hips and thighs from the hard dig of my fingers into her flesh. And let’s not even get into the state of her fucking spine right now, with how many times I slammed her into the wall.
Sweet Christ, I hate myself.
I knew kissing Birdie, tasting her, and having the freedom to touch her however I wanted would test every ounce of control I had, but I never knew exactly how much until the first swipe of her tongue against mine. Until I felt her clawing at me and needing me as much as I did her. Until I heard her whimper with desire in my mouth the first time I rubbed my cock between her sweet thighs. Knowing she wanted me as much as I wanted her set something off in me I had no control over. After fifteen years of keeping a filter in place and watching what I said and did with this woman, having that filter suddenly ripped away when she screamed at me in the rain that she wanted me too was like being starved your entire life and then someone suddenly put an entire table of decadent food in front of you. I couldn’t think straight I was so hungry for her. I couldn’t get her against me fast enough, couldn’t touch her everywhere quick enough. I had to claim her, mark her, make her mine, and make sure she knew damn well what I felt for her so she could finally stop making up dumb shit in her head.
“This is gonna change everything.”
“It’s about fucking time.”
I can still hear those emotion-filled words coming out of her beautiful mouth and ringing through my ears, see the need in her eyes when she looked at me, and feel how goddamn wet she was on my cock, reminding me all the feelings were mutual.
Christ, she was a fucking dream she was so hot for me.
It still doesn’t stop me from feeling like absolute horse shit.
Birdie’s eyes finally meet mine, her hands stilling in the process of straightening her tank top. She studies my face for a few quiet, tense seconds, the blood rushing in my ears, my cheeks feeling hot, and my skin feeling itchy, hoping she’ll forgive me for manhandling her when she means so much more to me than that. My feet won’t even let me close the distance between us, because I’m afraid if I get close to her again, I’ll throw her up against the wall and manhandle her again.
Nothing in my life has ever felt so perfect as that first moment I drove inside Birdie, not even the first time I drove a ball over 300 yards. Everything suddenly made sense. The pressures of the world and my life stopped screaming in my ears, every question I’d ever had was answered, and I automatically knew what I wanted to do and where I wanted to be for the rest of my life. I’m scared to death I screwed everything up, just because I couldn’t control my goddamn dick.
Birdie’s fingers slowly drop from the hem of her tank top, those fingers curling into her palms as she holds her fists down by her sides and her eyes narrow on me. I’ve been on the receiving end of Birdie’s rage enough times to be able to recognize when a storm is brewing inside that beautiful head of hers, and going by the way she cocks her hip, crosses her arms roughly in front of her, and looks at me like she’s trying to decide which piece of lawn equipment she’s going to use to remove my skin from my body, this storm is going to be a lot more catastrophic than the one that just blew through the golf course outside this shed.
“You stupid son of a bitch,” she mutters, my mouth dropping open when that’s not at all what I expected her to say, right as the door to the shed flies open and bangs against the wall behind me.
“Daaamn, someone’s been doing a lot of squats. Nice ass, Putz.”
With a muttered curse when I hear Tess’s voice and I comprehend my ass is still hanging out and my dick is still flopping in the breeze, I quickly yank my shorts the rest of the way up, tucking everything back inside, letting my waistband snap against my stomach when I’m covered. The sound makes Birdie’s head jerk up, and I realize she’d been staring at my dick while I put it away, that dick suddenly stirring back to life in my shorts with this knowledge.
Needing to look away from Birdie, because looking at her tangled hair, swollen lips, and flushed skin just makes everything we did in this room flash through my head in HD, vivid technicolor, I mirror Birdie’s pose, crossing my arms over my chest as I turn to look at Tess leaning her shoulder against the frame in the open doorway as she smiles around my shoulder at Birdie.
