He shudders, grazing my shoulder with his teeth. "Funny, I was just thinking about how badly I want to taste you again, too."
Like he wants to prove it, he curves one finger under my panties, whispering something hot about how wet I am—I'm sure I'd hear him more clearly if his touch alone wasn't enough to make my senses slip away—and then he brings his hand to his mouth, to suck me off of his finger, and something about watching him enjoy my flavor makes me so fucking turned on I hook a leg around him and, like some kung-fu master, flip us over so that I'm straddling him again. This time I'm in control.
He's staring up at me with a wicked little expression, like he's allowing me to think I'm in control. Like it's cute if I think I'm calling the shots.
Well. Game on.
He's about to see just how much control I have.
CHAPTER FORTY
SAWYER
SHE WANTS CONTROL, but so do I.
This is going to be an interesting little game.
Maybe I should give her the lead, as she has a slight advantage in experience, but I'm not a damn saint so that advantage is very, very slight. I doubt I'll be able to let her keep the lead. It's always been one of the things that makes us work so well together, this constant battle for leadership along the more intimate lines.
The sun's falling through the sky, lighting Quinn from behind so a halo wavers around her shape. Christ, she's beautiful. The wind flings a few strands of hair into her face; they stick to her mouth and after she peels them away, slowly like she's trying—successfully—to tease me, she licks her lips. Her lashes shutter halfway down, half hiding her bright, bright blue eyes.
"Jesus, you're sexy," I say, reaching for her waist, needing to bring her down on top of me. Wanting her body pressed to mine. Needing to taste her mouth again.
She grabs my hands, pressing our palms together and pushing them over my head. I get what I want, but she gives it to me her way. We both know I could swing my hands down, but we both know I won't. Yet.
Plus, the way she's leaning over me to hold my wrists places her perfect, perky breasts directly in line with my face. I lift my head to capture one pink nipple in my mouth. She stills above me, but when I circle it with my teeth and lap against it with my tongue, a purr slides creamily up her throat and her hips begin to rock.
Pressing her hands against my arms, she crawls back along my forearms, her breast slipping sadly out of reach, until we're nose to nose—and she's seated right on top of where I'm dying to feel her the most. She slides her cheek against mine and whispers so close to my ear it almost tickles. "I thought we'd make tonight all about pleasing you, Sawyer."
She's pressing down harder with her hips, making these tiny circles, and I think if she gets to keep control I'll last maybe another thirty seconds, and we aren't even out of our clothes yet.
"Don't you remember?" I grab her wrist and flip her onto her back so fast she gasps. "The thing that pleases me most is driving you wild."
Her expression filters through pouting to excitement to demanding and back again so fast I grin and claim her mouth with my own before she can decide which one to settle on. My tongue slips through her lips easily, finding hers and circling, teasing, tasting. Jesus, she's sweet. I want to make good on my promise. I won't leave one inch of skin unexplored.
She sighs, disappointed when I break the kiss, but when I drag my mouth across her cheek, the corner of her mouth twitches and she turns her face to give me access to her neck. I take my time getting there, sliding my lips around her jaw and across to her tasty little earlobe, pausing here to enjoy it while my hand explores her chest, her breasts, her nipples so tight I can't keep myself from pinching one—and then the other after her entire body jerks against me, and she pushes herself past my fingers into the center of my hand. Her breasts are small and firm and perfect for my palms.
She's perfect. I slide my hand lower down under the bunch of her dress. A whimper echoes faintly in her throat, quiet, but it vibrates against my chin so I give in to what she wants, dragging my tongue down the side of her neck. I shove her dress below her waist, and that sweet whimper builds into a moan.
She's so temptingly warm under my palm, and I steal a glance at the golden glow of her skin between her ribs, and down her smooth belly. Her stomach rises and falls under my touch, faster and more ragged with each breath. I catch a glimpse of fabric, small and red. "Christ, Quinn, what's with all the lace panties? You trying to kill me?"
She shifts her hips up, little tease. "I noticed what you liked the last time."
"You can wear a paper bag and you'll still be sexy as fuck. But damn do I love you in tiny pieces of lace." Dying to dive down beneath that lace, instead I crawl over her, focusing on that soft, sweet center of her throat. She tastes like salt and sand and every time she swallows my mouth rides the motion like a wave.
When I'm satisfied with my exploration of her graceful neck, I move lower, tasting the skin across her chest. Quinn grips my hair, pulling roughly. "Sawyer."
I don't lift my mouth to respond, but if she wants something rough, the blood roaring through my veins makes me more than happy to comply. I shove my knee between her thighs, forcing them apart and sliding it further up until I connect with the thin fabric of her panties. She moans and arches her back, letting the motion ripple through her body until she's writhing against my knee and I'm about to stop what I'm doing and fuck taking it slow, fuck all this exploration, all I want is to be inside her. The blanket is bunched between us, lifting her hips slightly higher, just into that perfect positioning…
But this is our first time and I want it to last.
"We have all night," she says, reading my mind. "We can do this more than once."
I lift my head and slide my chest up her body until our faces are even. She blinks up at me, and again I almost toss aside every scrap of control I'm barely hanging on to as it is.
"More than twice," I say, kissing her. Hard. She bites my tongue in response and I pull it from her mouth with a grin. "Or more than three times, if I get my way." I slide a hand between my knee and twist the scrap of lace to the side. She's so wet I'm instantly harder than before, throbbing, thundering, rock solid.
"That's all?" she asks, lifting one perfect brow, reaching between us to free me from my pants. "Only more than three times?" Warm air hits me and her fingers squeeze and I clench my jaw to keep from exploding right here, right now.
"Honey, I plan to spend tonight making you so sore you won't be able to handle a fourth round."
"I'll never not want another round with you." She slips her hands under my shirt, pulling it up and over my head. I lift onto my knees to help, and quick as a cat she slips onto her knees, too. She tosses my shirt into the sand and pauses before me. Our bodies are so close they're almost touching. She takes one deep breath and her nipples graze vertical lines up and down my chest. She edges the tip of her fingernail across my lower abs and when I jerk at the contact, my cock slides up the soft skin of her belly. I'm wet at the tip and I notice her noticing—and when she licks her lips another surge slams through me. Even harder the next time, when she drags her finger across it and pushes that same finger into her mouth, like a fucking lollipop.
Jesus.
"I love the way you taste, Sawyer."
"I love watching you taste me." I should probably say something sweeter here, but she's swirling her tongue around her finger and I want it to be around me so bad I can barely think.
The sun's falling lower in the sky behind us, and it casts her in the most beautiful glow. She uses her still wet finger to trace a line across my collarbone and dances her hand down my chest, over my heart, which is beating hard enough that I know she feels it, past my stomach, lower and lower, pushing my pants down to my knees and kissing my neck and gripping me again—and again I almost fucking rupture.
I close my eyes, hold my breath, and wait for some semblance of control to make its way back to me. She…doesn't help, wrapping her hands along me, twis
ting, tugging, pulling, ducking her head down to kiss my chest.
Two can play this way, though. When she leans back to look up at me, I hold her face still between my hands. She tilts her chin toward me, expecting a kiss, but instead I drag my hands down her chest, cupping her breasts, teasing her nipples with my thumbs, watching the way her eyes lose focus. Her grip tightens and I groan. I glance down and the image of her thin fingers weaving around me, gliding along me, is so fucking hot I jerk in her hands. She laughs. It's a sexy laugh, a throaty one, like she's heady with the power she has over me.
I dip my hands lower, slowly trailing my thumbs down her ribs and the sides of her belly until they're hooked in the waist of her panties. Slowly, so slowly, I roll them down her hips, her thighs. She lifts a knee, letting me pull one leg through, and when she puts it back on the ground she's spread wider on her knees than before.
Everything in me stills for a second while I take her in.
Her face. Her body.
Her heart.
I can almost hear its beat from here. And it's all for me.
Every goddamn thing about this girl is gorgeous.
Her face. Her body.
Her heart.
"Want to know one of my biggest fantasies?" I ask, the stillness suddenly replaced with the pound of excitement jumping through my veins.
"Aren't we about to fulfill it?" she asks, slyly. I reach between her legs, dipping a finger into her—holy Jesus, she's so wet, so warm—and I press my thumb against her, lightly and then harder, until that sly expression slips into something sharper.
"Yes, we are," I say, my voice rough. "But there's something else before that…" I let the words trail off, watching puzzlement cross her face and flow into something more like excitement.
"What?" She works her hands, works her hands, works her hands and if she doesn't stop I'm really not going to be able to.
"You. On your knees, just as you are. Except over my face."
"Oh." Her blush is immediate and almost as beautiful as she is. So is the way she bites her lip. She's imagining it now, too. And her hands pause for the moment, thank God.
Mine haven't, though. I slip another finger into her, twisting it with the first, my thumb making tiny circles and pressing harder until she's breathing so fast I think she might come before I have the chance to eat her—and I'm too thirsty for her taste to let that happen.
So I slow down. A little. "What do you think?"
"I think I'll do whatever you ask me to right now, Sawyer. You want me on your face? Have me. You want to skip that part and slam into me"—she slows these last three words down until they're stretchy like pine sap, and I clench my damn jaw so hard it almost breaks—"we can do that, too."
I'm breathing heavy like I just ran a homer and without another word I scoop her up, reaching behind her, right under her ass, and pulling her on top of me as I fall to my back. Her panties hang around her ankle and I reach past her to loop them off of her foot and bring them behind her back, resting just above her ass. She's straddling my neck, watching me, and I can see she's nervous.
But she's turned on, too. The truth is soaking my Adam's apple.
I hook both hands through the legs of her lace underwear and stretch it across her back, using it to pull her forward until—after one last moment of hesitation on her part when she sets the brakes with her hips, giving in just a second later—she's finally resting over my face.
"God, you're perfect, Quinn." I want to say more, to really make sure she understands the truth of my words, but I can't. I need to feel her. Taste her. Eat her. I bury my nose against her, inhaling her sweet scent and nuzzling her until she's moaning and tensing her thighs against my cheeks. I look up to find her staring back at me, her face flushed, her expression focused, and the skin of her belly tightening, quivering.
I lick her, slowly, enjoying every second of tasting her, and using my chin to nudge the tender skin just past where I plan to bury my tongue. And then I do.
I grab her ass and hold her against my face, pushing my tongue into her, circling it until I find the spot that makes her gasp.
And gasp.
And gasp.
Her head falls back and the heels of her hands press against my forehead and she takes the reins, riding my tongue, pressing herself against my mouth and moaning sweet little moans and all I can see is the delicious view of her peaked nipples rising and falling every time she breathes, every time she bucks, and if there were a word for being harder than rock solid, that's exactly what I am right now.
When she comes I lick her harder than I've ever done before, tasting her, swallowing her until she collapses above me, her stomach rounding over my face, and slides to her side, panting, trembling.
Grinning. "Holy fuck, Sawyer."
She's out of breath and I lose the battle with a smug smile. "A first for you?"
She hesitates and I immediately wish I hadn't asked. I don't want her to be uncomfortable, and it makes no difference to me what she's done before. All that matters is right now—and every day of the future.
"A definite first," she says, and thank God for it because with the pleasure that runs through me with her words, maybe it did matter to me. Then she says, "You were my first—now I'll be yours."
And I'm thanking God a second time because if she's not riding me within the next moment, I actually might split down the middle—I'm so hard there's no place else for the pressure to go. I start to sit up, but she pushes me back.
She straddles me, without touching me, but she's close enough that barely a hair could pass between us and I feel her warmth and it takes every last shred of restraint for me not to buck my hips and take her. I grab her waist, holding her steady. Maybe I'm holding myself steady. Who the fuck knows anything right now other than the need jackhammering through me.
She rests her palms against my chest, letting a small, smug smile flit across her mouth. "You ready for this?"
"I'm ready for you," I say, aching so bad, needing to feel her around me so bad, the words barely make it out. "All of you."
She reaches up to tug her red lace panties out of my hand—I'd somehow forgotten I was holding them—and tosses them toward the tent. "Always ruining my undies, Sawyer."
I shrug, pushing sand up toward my ear. "I'll get you a new pair."
"Or maybe I'll pull a Sawyer and stop wearing them all together."
The thought of that… "Jesus, you make me swell any harder than this, honey, and I might actually fucking die."
"Just one more thing," she whispers. "Got to do something about your pants."
My pants, I realize a second behind the times. Tucked around my ankles. I want to tell her I don't care, they won't hinder a damn thing—but she turns around and straddles my thighs, facing away and reaching, reaching, holy Christ reaching down to my ankles to push my jeans all the way off and every. Single. Inch. Of her beautiful body is there for me to memorize. Pink and perfect and wet and holy shit I'm about to resort to preteen-style premature explosion any second now.
She looks over a shoulder, wiggling her hips. "You doing okay?"
"You going to make me beg?" Because I'm half a second away from doing just that. Half a second away from grabbing her hips and slamming her down onto me before she's even turned around.
"Nope." She spins back toward me, straddling me again, and oh my fucking God she lowers onto me.
Slowly.
Inch by inch by inch, keeping her eyes on mine, a little smile across her beautiful mouth, until I'm all the way inside of her, and I've never known anything like this sort of pleasure.
Until she starts to roll her hips.
"Hold on," I beg. "Hold on, hold on."
But she laughs and refuses to stay still and I'm not going to last much longer and I'm going to make the best of it while I can. I reach up to grab her breasts, but she catches my hands, lacing her fingers with mine and falling over me, so that our hands are by my head and she's smiling against my mouth. "You have n
o idea how long I've wanted this," she whispers, biting my lip.
"Pretty sure I do," I somehow manage.
She shakes her head, rubbing her mouth over mine and then straightening, rolling her hips harder and harder. She arches back, holding my thighs, and I grab her hips, my fingers tightening hard enough to make her gasp again, but not to hurt her. I just need to hold on because I look down between us and oh fuck I'm watching myself sink into her and slide out, slick with her wetness, and…
Fuck.
I can't hold it anymore.
I come.
Hard.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
QUINN
WE LIE TOGETHER, breathing for a few minutes or hours or years, grinning at each other. Eventually, I start to slide off of Sawyer, but he grabs my hips. Rough. Keeping me in place.
"Give me a second, honey," he says, his voice dry as sandpaper. "That was only the beginning."
And just like that I'm quivering.
And just like that I feel him shift inside of me, beginning to spring back to life, so to speak.
And just like that I'm rocking my hips and he's getting harder and harder and his fingers are digging into my skin and oh my God he feels so good inside of me.
I feel him everywhere.
Everywhere.
I lean forward to kiss him and, okay, maybe in not the smoothest maneuver he's ever managed, he flips me onto my back with a few disjointed adjustments and holds my hands above my head, palm to palm with his. The sand is smooth against the backs of my hands and the blanket stops somewhere around the middle of my shoulders, so I know my hair's going to be tangled with sand—and I've never cared about something less than this. And when he's pushing into me hard and fast and furious again, it turns out I love the sensation and the way the grains shift under my head each time it's jerked with the motion of our bodies.
"Tables have turned, huh?" he asks between kisses, biting my lower lip. It may be bleeding before the day's over if he keeps working it the way he has been.
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