Flowers in Her Hair (Deep Desires)
Page 2
She loved it. He knew she would.
“My friends and I used to come up here to party,” he said as he started a fire in a circle of stones.
“What? How?”
“My parents own this place,” he said with a grin.
“Seriously?”
“Yup.” Wilson patted the ground next to him, a smile still stretched across his face.
Come closer. Please.
The wind blew her hair gently around her face as she worried her lower lip.
“I’m not some groupie that’s just going to fuck you because you took me on a walk to an admittedly really cool spot,” she said, stalking over to him, her hips swaying under an oversized knit sweater.
“No fucking. Check. That leaves a lot of other things still on the table,” he said, unable to hide his mischievous smirk.
She paused and looked down at him, glaring. “You don’t even know my name.”
He grabbed her wrist and tugged, pulling her onto his lap. “Please, tell me,” he said, his lips brushing against her ear as he ran a hand up her bare leg.
“No.” Her voice was soft, and even as she spoke, she settled into his lap. “I think you need to hear that word more often.”
His cock jumped, want pumping through his body. “Keep telling me no. Too many people tell me yes. I like hearing it come from you. That’s why I hunted you down,” he said, raking his teeth against her earlobe.
Her breath hitched as he squeezed her thigh. He wanted to sink his teeth into her curves. He wanted to run his hands over every inch of her tanned skin. Turning her nos into yeses.
“Don’t tell me what to say,” she sniped with little conviction as she turned her head and pressed her lips against his.
CHAPTER FIVE
____________
IZZY
She was fucked. Fucked. Or she would be.
Wilson’s fingers dug into her thighs rhythmically, matching the tempo of their mouths and tongues. Her head was turned at an awkward angle, almost kissing him over her shoulder, but it didn’t matter.
He’d hunted her down. Just that word, hunt. Like his please. He wanted her, worked for her. She couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. She got whatever she needed whenever she wanted it, late night trysts with the sound guy or other volunteers. But it had been a long time since someone pursued her. Hunt. A slow burn kindled deep inside of her in a place she didn’t know had grown cold.
Izzy captured his mouth with hers, her tongue swirling around his. His hand traveled farther up her thigh, slowly creeping.
“No,” she scolded quietly against his lips, covering his hand with hers.
She felt his cock pulse beneath her as he groaned. “Let me touch you.” His hand pushed against hers, trying to force his way past.
“No,” she answered again. His cock responded immediately again, and she laughed lightly before sweeping a playful kiss across his lips.
She moved to stand, but he caught her by her wrist, stopping her before she could straighten.
“Please, I’m sorry. A game. I was…” Wilson started.
“I’m not leaving, just getting comfortable,” she said, settling back down on his lap with her legs on either side of him. Their lips met as she sunk down, and Wilson’s hands curled through her hair. A wet warmth teased through her pussy, soaking her panties. The only thing between her and his jeans. She wasn’t ready for him to know that just yet…
She rocked her hips as their kisses deepened, a growing need grabbing hold of her body. His cock had been hard since he first pulled her onto his lap. Hunt. Though he felt a little like her prey as she used his hard-on and the friction of his jeans to find her own pleasure. Grinding against him like her panties were a damn chastity belt.
Without warning, his hands released her hair and snaked under her sweater, taking a hold of her hips. He guided her movements, his own hips thrusting against hers.
Shocks shot through her as his hands flexed around her sides. Calluses scraping against her skin. His thumbs pressing against her hip bones. She whimpered, wanting to touch herself. Wanting him to touch her.
She moved faster and faster, rocking her clit against a seam in his jeans. Heat rose through her until even her cheeks were on fire. Tension wound around her core, building with each stroke. She knew she was devouring his mouth. Need had taken over every single one of her thoughts.
She pressed her forehead against his and lifted herself inches from his lap. Her breathing was ragged, and blood pounded in her ears. She needed to calm down. Come down.
“What’s wrong,” Wilson asked calmly, quietly, like he genuinely cared. Not like a hookup who was pissed she’d pumped the brakes.
She groaned. “Nothing. This is fucking… You are… Why can’t you just be the asshole from this morning?”
He smiled. “Why are you wearing only a sweater? You must have been looking to get fucked.”
Izzy laughed, her breathing slowing, until he slipped a hand down the front of her panties, his fingers gliding easily to her entrance where they paused, circling, playing with her lips. Shivers shot up her spine.
“You know your sweater is a tease. It’s almost sheer, but not quite. I can see the shadow of your nipples.” He slid back and forth along her seam, venturing deeper with each pass. “Show me.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head, her voice uneven. She wanted to sink down onto his fingers. Ride them while his thumb teased her clit and his mouth covered her nipples.
“What color are your nipples? Are they a soft pink or a rich plum? Show me.” Wilson pushed his fingers into her pussy, forcing a moan from her lips.
“Are they a neat mouthful, or will I get to spend all night kissing and sucking them? Show me.” He thrust into her again, curling his fingers.
“No,” she said through ragged breaths as she curled her fingers around the hem of her sweater and lifted it over her head.
CHAPTER SIX
____________
WILSON
His cocked throbbed. Even if he never saw this woman again, he could beat off to the memory of her telling him no for-fucking-ever.
She dragged her shirt up slowly, revealing her stomach and chest and deep tan nipples with the slightest hint of pink.
He palmed her breast, bringing the hard peak to his mouth and capturing it between his teeth. She whimpered above him, burying her fingers in his hair as he sucked and nipped her pebbled skin.
Wilson’s other hand went back to work on her pussy, working in tandem with his tongue. He wanted to see just how many desperate sounds he could pull from her mouth. Nothing about her was for show; each moan and sigh was completely genuine. Nothing like the overdone screams of women he’d had before.
He dipped his fingers lower, playing with her clit as he flicked her nipple, lathing it gently. Her breathing grew ragged and tiny mewls escaped her lips. Her hands gently stroked his hair, traveling to his shoulders while she swayed gently over him.
He slipped his hand to her cunt, driving into her as he closed his teeth around her nipple. Her deep, throaty moans echoed around the pasture as she bore down on his hand while he fucked her with his fingers. Her cries rising and falling at his command. He held her pleasure at his very fingertips.
He retreated, stroking her clit again and whispered between gentle flicks against her nipple, “Do you want me to do that again?”
She shook her head, catching her breath. “No.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
____________
IZZY
She pulled away from him, her hands scrambling to unfasten his pants.
They were a knot of arms and legs by the fire, undressing on the damp night grass, the noise of the festival still quietly carrying on so far below them.
He was nothing like she’d imagined, nothing like she’d assumed. He wanted her—it was a fantastic fucking feeling. He could have anyone, and he’d hunted for her.
She took him in her hand and fisted his cock, closing her f
ingers around his thickness. His breath caught in his throat as she ran her hand along his shaft.
Izzy straddled him again and poised his crown at her entrance.
“You’re going to fuck me?” he asked, arms wrapping around her waist.
“No,” she said, guiding just his head into her cunt, slipping the tip in and out, in and out, stretching herself around his cock. She was a fucking, soaking wet mess. She sunk slowly, her mouth opening in a silent scream while an erotic pain spread through her core as she stretched to take him in one steady stroke.
He growled in her ear as she seated herself on his lap, pausing before she rose to her knees to feel his entire length again. Wilson held her hips, pulling her against him, pushing a cry from her lips when he found her deepest pleasure. She could barely catch her breath before she rose again and came slamming back down, wanting more. Needing more.
She closed her eyes, rocking against him, his cock hitting the absolute deepest part of her. Each thrust ground her clit against his pelvis while his cock sent a shot of sharp pain through her.
Tension built in her core, and her movements became more demanding. Her fingers dug into the muscles of Wilson’s back.
“Come,” he ground out against her ear. His own hands gripped her ass tight enough to leave bruises.
“No,” she hissed. It was a hollow statement. Her skin burned, and her head swam as she arched her back, losing the ability to actually make conscious decisions about her movements.
“Please.” Wilson pulled her toward him, slamming her down on his cock, and she cried out. The unexpected pain erupted into her orgasm. She tilted her hips, finding more of him. Diving deeper. Coming again and again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
____________
WILSON
His heels dug into the ground, and he bucked his hips as pleasure tore through her. She was a thing of absolute fucking beauty—her head was thrown back, and firelight danced through her tangles, turning the white wildflowers a warm yellow. Sounds of complete abandon tumbled from her lips. No more fucking nos.
He closed his lips around her nipple, nipping at the dark bud. A ragged gasp tore from her throat, and her cunt tightened around him again.
He slid a hand up her spine, holding her to his mouth while his other gripped her ass and kept her gliding along his cock until his balls tightened, ready to fill her, and he came with a primal moan against her breast, driving himself as deep as he could, holding her tightly.
She wrapped her legs around him and collapsed against his shoulder, sprinkling gentle, lazy kisses along his neck, her hair cascading down his bare back. He couldn’t get any fucking closer to her. He never wanted to let her go.
“Come with me,” he said.
“Just did.”
“No. From here. On tour.”
His cock was still hard. He definitely wasn’t thinking straight. The impulsive question was probably fueled by endorphins and a lack of oxygen. But he did know that she was unlike anyone he’d ever met before, and he’d felt more alive in the last eighteen hours than he had in the last eighteen months.
“Fuck, Wilson. You don’t even know my name,” she said, raking her hands through her hair.
“That’s an easy fix—tell me.”
“No,” she replied quietly.
“I spent the whole day hunting you down, Izzy. Come with me. You don’t care about Blue Heron. You treat me like a real fucking human. You don’t want anything from me. I know you don’t have any other solid plans this summer. We’re playing festivals for the next few months. Come on the road with me. Please.”
He watched her face soften. He’d already learned that quiet plea was her Achilles heel… Just like her no was his.
“You already knew my name? See, you already get everything you want. And now you want to drive behind your fucking Waldorf Hotel on wheels in a ten-year-old VW station wagon with me?” Her brows knit together, drawing her top lip upward in genuine confusion. Who would turn their back on that level of luxury and convenience? He would, for her, for the adventure together.
“Yes. Hell, yes.” His heart pounded. She might actually say no. She might actually tell him no. That’s what drew him to her. The seconds stretched for hours while he held his breath for her answer.
“No,” she said, the corners of her lips curling into a smile and an ethereal giggle escaping her mouth.
“Shit, this is going to get confusing.”
THE END
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Also by Liza Mitchell
Deep Desires
(Quick & Dirty Stories)
Post Mate
Between the Stacks
Flowers in Her Hair
On Her Trail (August 2019)
Something Wicked
An Unraveled Witch
An Untouched Witch
An Untamed Witch
An Unclaimed Witch
Walking Shadows
Bound by Blood
Absolved by Blood (August 2019)
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About the Author
Liza writes short safe contemporary and paranormal romances. She is an avid reader and coffee drinker with a passion for spending as little time in reality as possible. Liza Mitchell is the alter ego of a hobby farmer, wife, and mother living the dream in Northern Michigan.
www.lizamitchell.com