His, Unexpectedly

by Susan Fox

  Kids. It seemed there was something about that topic that touched a nerve with her. Did people give her flack for not wanting children? If he’d had any confidence in his ability to reassure her, he’d have tried, but more likely he’d only make matters worse. “Apology accepted then?” he asked, daring to brush a few golden curls behind her ear.

  She turned to him, a smile touching her lips. “Yeah. And I’m sorry for overreacting. And spoiling the mood. Let me make it up to you.” Now there was a twinkle in her eye.

  “Uh … How?”

  “Add some more wood to the fire while I tidy up the dishes, then I’ll show you.” Purposefully, she moved toward the picnic table.

  He got the fire blazing again, then glanced around to see that Jenna had cleared everything off the table but the lantern and their glasses of wine. From inside the camper came the sound of running water.

  He retrieved his glass and went to stand by the fire again. Remembering her advice, he took a sip of wine and let it rest in his mouth then slide slowly down his throat, tasting the complexity of the flavor. Gazing at the fire, he appreciated all the shades of yellow and orange in the flames, the scent of smoke on the cool night air, the brush of warmth against his bare chest between the open sides of his shirt. From a nearby campsite, a quick burst of laughter sounded.

  If he’d been here alone, he’d have hiked the entire park this afternoon, map in hand, until the light faded. He’d perhaps not have bothered to make a fire—or, if he did, he’d have forgotten to keep adding wood. He’d have eaten a ready-made sandwich, picked up at a gas station, and read the Journal of Experimental Marine Biology and Ecology.

  “Mark?”

  Her voice made him swing around, to see her walking toward him. She’d changed from her jeans to the long, filmy skirt she’d been wearing earlier.

  “Come sit down again,” she said, eyes dancing and tone seductive, taking his hand and pulling him toward the table.

  She indicated the end of one bench and he sank down obediently, legs toward the fire rather than tucked under the table. When he put down his wine glass, he saw a condom lying on the table. Just the sight of it made his body tighten.

  Sex here? Outside again? Was that why she’d traded her jeans for a skirt? Though their campsite was secluded, it was by no means private. Did risk of discovery turn her on?

  Did it turn him on? He’d never thought about that before, but there was no denying the thrill of excitement that coursed through him, and the pressure as his cock expanded behind his fly.

  Jenna had a sip of wine then sat down on his lap again, facing him. “Now, where were we? Oh yeah, buttons.”

  She undid the bottom two shirt buttons, finishing the job she’d started earlier. Her fingertips grazed his bulging fly, and he knew it was no accident. Then they drifted over his body, brushing his ribs, pecs, wandering through the scattering of hair, tweaking a nipple. Stirring him with each soft touch, sending pulses of arousal through his blood.

  He should take her inside, convert the couch to a bed, make love to her slowly, the way she deserved. Yet those deft, sensual fingers wove a spell that held him there, unable to move or even speak.

  By the time she unfastened the button at the waist of his jeans, he was rigid with need, aching for her touch.

  She shifted her butt back, closer to his knees, and drew down the zipper.

  He tensed, holding his breath.

  She reached inside, slid her hand through the slit in his boxers, and wrapped her fingers around his shaft. Firm, warm pressure encircled his swollen flesh, and he let out a groan of pleasure.

  Gently she tugged his penis free of his clothing, then to his surprise she took her hand away and simply stared.

  He looked down, past her golden-curled bent head, to see his naked cock standing full and upright, not fazed one bit by the chill night air. His first impulse was to cover up, but he fought it down, not wanting to seem naïve. “Jesus, Jenna, I feel …”

  “Exposed?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Mmm. Exposed and so sexy. What a beautiful cock you have, Mark.”

  Beautiful? She had to be kidding. Breasts were beautiful. Penises were … functional.

  “It makes me want to—” She clambered off his lap. “Pull down your jeans and boxers.”

  Then she was grabbing something—a towel? a sweater?—placing it on the ground, and kneeling in front of him.

  Stunned, aching with need, he shoved down his clothes.

  She dipped her head, then took him in her mouth.

  “Oh, God.” Erotic pleasure shot through him, so intense he had to fight the urge to pump, and pump again, hard and fast until he found release. Instead, as she’d taught him, he focused on the moment and gave it his full attention.

  Her tongue, agile and insistent, licked down and around his shaft, then up to swirl around the crown, then down again. Her lips circled him, moving up and down, full and firm and damp. Her fingers teased and stroked the root of his shaft, tangling in his pubic hair, toying with his sac. A hundred individual sensations tingled through him, making him swell impossibly harder.

  He watched her bent head, curls gleaming and dancing as she worked him. Unable to speak, he ran a hand through her hair in wordless thanks and encouragement.

  She shifted position, drawing back so her head no longer blocked his view. Now he could see his shaft disappearing between her lips as she sucked him in.

  Rarely had a woman gone down on him, and never had he watched. It was unbearably sexy, and he had to fight against the building, nearly irresistible need to thrust hard and come in her mouth.

  At that moment, she released him, and the cool air hit his naked, overheated flesh, a welcome relief. But now she was tonguing him, not taking him into her mouth but licking around him, hot, wet strokes on night-cooled skin, each a flame that stoked the fire inside. Watching her pink tongue dart across his most intimate flesh was damned erotic.

  Holding onto an iota of sanity, he remembered she’d brought a condom. She’d planned for intercourse. Wanted intercourse. And, blissful as this felt, he wanted to bury himself inside her.

  Unable to tear his gaze away from her, he groped the surface of the table for the condom package, then grabbed it and managed to find his voice. “Here,” he croaked as he thrust it toward her.

  She glanced up and teasingly ran her tongue around her lips. “Are you sure?”

  From somewhere he found another word and grunted, “Together.”

  Dimly, he was aware he should be caressing her breasts, sucking her nipples, stroking her inner thighs, exploring her intimate folds with his tongue, stimulating her clitoris—doing all the things a woman wanted and needed. But his body was in control, desperate to merge with hers.

  When her fingers stroked the condom down his shaft, he gripped the rough wood of the bench to stop himself from thrusting.

  Jenna rose lithely, hiked up her skirt, and straddled him. Oh God, she was naked under that skirt, and the bare flesh she pressed against the base of his shaft was wet with arousal.

  He was going to reach under the folds of fabric that draped their laps, to stroke her slick, heated pussy, but she was ahead of him.

  She put her own hand down to grip his shaft, to guide him, and a moment later he slid inside her, smooth, hard, and deep.

  “Oh, yeah,” she sighed, eyes closing. She opened them again, smiling. “That’s damn good.”

  Good was an understatement. He thrust a hand through her hair to grip the back of her head and tug her toward him for a kiss.

  She resisted for a moment. “Mark, I’m not sure that’s a good—”

  His lips cut off the rest of it.

  Sweet, salty, musky, she tasted of sex as he feasted on her mouth. She gave a soft, almost desperate moan, then answered back as hungrily, and he was swept under by a tide of passion.

  His tongue plunged into her mouth, his cock thrust hard into her core, and she sucked and writhed and made needy, panting sounds tha
t brought out the animal in him. Everything in the world disappeared but for their bodies merging in a pulsing, glittering spiral of sensation that consumed and satisfied at the same time, until it ended in an explosion that wrenched a groan of pure joy from him then cast him free, drained and exhausted.

  Vaguely, he was aware they’d stopped kissing. That his bare butt sat on a hard wooden bench. That his limp arms circled Jenna, who’d folded inward against his heaving chest, and his chin rested atop her head. Heavily.

  What the hell had just happened?

  Well, sex, yeah. But more than that. Sex was a physical act. Usually he was aware of everything that was happening, conscious of looking after his partner, but this … it had swept him away. There wasn’t any scientific explanation he was aware of.

  Everyone in the campground could have been watching, and he’d never have noticed.

  As the hammering of his heart slowed, he forced words from his dry throat. “Are you all right?”

  Chapter 6

  Was I all right?

  My first instinct was to say no. I was shattered in a million pieces. But those pieces still tingled with pleasure, and before I’d shattered I had felt the most amazing sensations.

  “Yeah,” I murmured, almost surprised to find my voice worked. The sex, the orgasm, had been so powerful it seemed as if all my body parts had been shaken up and rearranged. I’d never experienced anything like this. The closest I’d ever come was when I was seventeen and fell for Travis.

  A disconcerting thought.

  With Travis, I’d been an inexperienced girl, just coming to life sexually. I’d mistaken orgasms and vows of love for the real thing.

  With Mark … I shook my head against his naked chest, so warm and strong under my cheek. I’d had a dozen years of sex since Travis. Loads of lovers, many of them pretty talented. Stunning climaxes that made me scream, multiple orgasms that kept me peaking until I couldn’t take it any longer. But nothing so … profound. Was it because we’d kissed? Something very strange happened whenever we kissed.

  What was freaking going on? I summoned enough strength to raise my hands to his chest and push myself away so I could look at him. “There’s a scientific explanation for this, right?”

  Light from the fire reflected off his face, illuminating his puzzled expression. “Uh, well, MHC codes … Pheromones are …” He shook his head. “No, not that I know of.”

  I scowled at him. “You’re supposed to be able to come up with a scientific lecture on any given subject.”

  Humor softened his mouth. “Sorry. Sex isn’t my field.”

  “You are so wrong.” I blew out a breath. “Maybe you don’t know all the science, but when it comes to application, man are you something.” And I would firmly believe there was a scientific explanation for the way I felt because … because there had to be.

  He shook his head and said in that husky rock-singer voice, “Actually, I’m a pretty good lover, but—”

  “I’ll say.”

  “I mean, I know the right things to do, but with you, I forget all that stuff and something comes over me and …” Another head shake. “All my good intentions go out the window, and I turn into some kind of animal.”

  “You sexy beast,” I teased.

  He smiled back. “Glad it works for you.” Then he touched my cheek, stroked tendrils of hair back, and caressed the shell of my ear. “Next time, I promise there’ll be foreplay.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Particularly if it kept his lips off mine. I had an adventurous spirit, but instinct—survival instinct—told me kissing Mark was dangerous.

  I maneuvered myself off his lap, leaving him to deal with the condom while I adjusted my skirt. “I’m going to use the facilities.”

  “Me too. I’ll walk with you.”

  We gathered toothbrushes and a few other necessities then, arms snugly around each other, strolled through the campground. Most people had turned in for the night, but at a few sites people still clustered around the fire or picnic table. “Wonder if any of them are fooling around?” I murmured.

  “I’ll never think of campgrounds in the same way again.”

  We went our separate ways when we reached the facilities. Inside the ladies room, I got talking to an older woman from New England who said that when she and her husband retired the previous year, they’d bought a motor home and were driving all over the country.

  “Wherever the whim takes you?” I asked, spreading toothpaste on my brush.

  She nodded. “After decades of alarm clocks and office buildings, we’re enjoying being gypsies. And we figure we deserve it.”

  “Of course you do.” I didn’t say that a person shouldn’t have to slave away for years and years at some dull job to deserve freedom. Hadn’t she read her country’s constitution? “Have an awesome trip.”

  “You too. Night.”

  I returned her good night, then brushed my teeth and went outside to meet Mark. Yes, the first day of the trip had definitely been awesome. And we hadn’t even made it to that double bed.

  We strolled back to the camper and he said, “It’s such a small space inside. Why don’t you stay by the fire while I set up the bed?”

  “Okay.” For a few minutes, I watched the dying flames and wished we’d thought to buy marshmallows, then he called softly, “All ready.”

  Inside, the bed covered much of the space. He’d made it up with a couple of sheets and pillows and an unzipped sleeping bag tossed on top like a duvet. “Much more comfortable than sleeping in my car,” I said appreciatively. I tossed him a wink. “Not to mention, the company’s pretty good.”

  “I didn’t pull the curtains. Is that okay? I like seeing the morning sun.”

  “Me, too.” Quickly, I skimmed off my long-sleeved tee and bra, then my skirt, and slipped between the sheets, shivering a little. In mid June, the nights were still on the cool side.

  Mark stripped unselfconsciously, and without the shivers. Such a perfect male body, and he didn’t seem to have a clue how attractive he was.

  He clicked off the ceiling light, and the world went black. The bed shifted, then he slid in beside me, knees bumping me.

  Again I shivered, then turned on my side and snuggled my butt against him. “Brrr, it’s chilly. Spoon me.”

  He shifted position then tugged me into the curve of his body. His front warmed my back, and his arm crossed my body holding me close. His knees brushed the back of mine, and his toes tickled the soles of my feet, making me giggle.

  For a few minutes, he just held me as my body warmed. It was peaceful and cozy—but against my bottom, his cock twitched and grew, and my sex throbbed and moistened in response. No, we wouldn’t be going to sleep any time soon.

  He pulled back to nuzzle through my curls and blow warm air across the back of my neck. Next came licks and gentle nips, teasing and sensual. His hand stroked my arm where it crossed my waist, then smoothed the curve of my hip, down then up again, and back down.

  I murmured approval.

  His hand drifted up to cup my breast, caress it, and squeeze the nipple gently, sending warm tingles straight to my pussy. “Nice, Mark. More.”

  “I promised you foreplay, and this time nothing’s going to distract me.”

  “Nothing?” I wriggled my butt against his growing cock.

  “Stop it. D’you want me to be distracted?”

  “When you put it that way … No, I want foreplay.”

  His warmth pulled away from my body and before I could grumble a protest, firm hands rolled me onto my back. When he leaned over me, my eyes had adjusted to the dim light but still I could barely make out his shape.

  He tugged the sheet down to expose my torso. “Let me know if you get cold.” His hand molded my breast, plumping it up, and he licked around my areola. Around and around, his hot tongue, then cool air, then his tongue again, gathering arousal and centering it. Then his tongue flicked back and forth across my nipple.

  When he finally sucked my nippl
e into his mouth, I gasped with pleasure. “Not cold. Definitely not cold.” His mouth was hot, and the sexy way he teased my flesh with tongue and lips warmed me inside and out.

  When he’d finished lavishing attention on one breast, I expected him to move to the other, but instead his lips cruised upward, over the upper curve of my breast, my chest, my collar bone. His tongue played in the hollow at the base of my throat, then he pressed nibbling kisses into the tender flesh of my neck.

  One strummed a particularly sensitive spot, a spot linked directly with my sex, and I let out a surprised “oh.”

  He lingered there, sucking the flesh while my hips rose involuntarily, muscles tightening with anticipation and need. If his touch was this arousing on my neck, what would it be like when he finally made his way between my legs?

  From my neck, he went to my other breast, seeming in no hurry despite the thick erection that brushed my leg. I lay back, glorying in every delicious sensation, sensitive, achy, craving release but happy for this to go on forever.

  He sure knew his way around a woman’s body. Hard to believe this was the same man who said he lacked social skills. I remembered something one boyfriend, a software designer, had told me: Geeks try harder. It seemed science guys did, too.

  Mark dropped kisses down the lower curve of my breast, along my waist and out to the flare of my hip, then back in to my tummy. Whenever I sighed or twitched with pleasure, he took his time, licking, sucking, and teasing.

  By the time he made it to my bikini-trimmed bush, my hips writhed with need. The coil of arousal inside me had wound so tightly, my breath came out in soft pants, and I was desperate for release. I spread my legs and begged, “Please, I can’t wait. Make me come.”

  He held my hips up and dipped between my legs where by now I was soaking wet, and with quick, firm strokes lapped my juice.

  “Oh, God, yes.”

  His tongue flicked across my clit, and I whimpered. Then he settled there, teasing that swollen nub into his mouth and sucking gently.

  Every nerve ending in that sensitive bundle fired at the same time, and orgasm rocked me, making me cry out.