Barreled Over

by Jenna Sutton

  Pushing aside the blanket, she sat up, and he did the same. She whipped her T-shirt over her head before shimmying out of the khaki pants he’d bought for her.

  Underneath, she wore lacy beige bikini panties and a matching bra. She wondered what kind of underwear he’d packed for her. Knowing Beck, he’d gone the practical route and eschewed lace for cotton.

  As he kicked out of his pants, she kneeled next to him. A chilly breeze wafted over her, leaving goose bumps in its wake. Her nipples hardened, both from the cold air and the sizeable erection visible under his gray boxer briefs.

  Placing her hand on his chest, she pushed him flat and stretched out on top of his strong body. He wrapped his arms around her lower back, holding her flush against him. After tugging the blanket over them, she bent down until her mouth almost touched his.

  “Are you cold?” she asked against his lips.

  He slowly shook his head, his lips grazing hers. She touched her tongue to the corner of his mouth in a slow lick, and his erection twitched against her thigh, hot and hard through his underwear.

  She scooted down his body, taking the blanket with her. She stopped when she reached the apex of his thighs, her face inches from his penis.

  She looked up, over his flat stomach and broad chest, and met his eyes. “Are you cold now?”

  “No,” he answered, his voice gravelly.

  “Good.” She hooked her fingers in the waistband of his underwear. “That means I can take these off.”

  She carefully tugged his boxer briefs down, revealing his erection and testicles. She cupped the heavy sacs in her hand, squeezing gently, and his hips lifted jerkily.

  She stroked him from the base of his shaft to the tip, dancing her fingers along the velvety smooth skin. She circled the plump head before pressing her finger against the tiny slit. Air hissed through his teeth, and she swirled her forefinger through the pearly fluid.

  Bringing her finger to her mouth, she licked his cream off it. His taste overwhelmed her, salty and rich, and she went back for one more swipe.

  “I love the way you taste,” she breathed, sucking lightly on her finger.

  Before Beck, she’d disliked performing fellatio. She’d tried it a couple of times and always found it yucky and uncomfortable. And she sure as hell hadn’t swallowed. Just the thought of it had made her gag.

  But she couldn’t get enough of Beck. She willingly—eagerly—put her mouth on every inch of his body.

  She fisted his erection, and he wrapped his hand around hers, moving it up and down. He was breathing fast, his muscles strung tightly.

  “I love going down on you,” she admitted, and his erection swelled in her hand.

  “Please stop talking about it and just do it.”

  She laughed softly. “Since you asked so nicely.”

  Leaning down, she placed her lips on the tip of his erection and swallowed the plump head. He groaned deep in his throat and threaded his fingers through her hair.

  “More,” he requested, flexing his hips and pumping into her mouth.

  Relaxing her throat, she sucked him as deep as she could. He was long and thick, and she tongued the tracing of veins on his penis before sliding her mouth up his shaft and then back down again.

  She kept things slow, letting her lips linger on the head. She twirled her tongue around the plump curve, and when she flattened it against the underside and pressed, he moaned harshly. She did it again, and he let loose with a string of curse words.

  Bracing herself on his hair-roughened thighs, she resumed the slow slide up and down his erection, sucking harder on the tip. She could sense his orgasm was close because his grip on her head tightened and he rolled his hips, forcing his erection deeper into her mouth.

  “Faster,” he growled.

  She gave him what he wanted, and he helped her by moving her head up and down on his erection. On the next upward slide, she dipped her tongue in the tiny slit on the tip and gently squeezed his testicles.

  “Oh, fuck,” he gasped, lifting his hips.

  He gave a guttural groan, his fingers clenching in her hair, and she widened her mouth and took him deeper. Semen spurted into the back of her throat, and she swallowed willingly—happily—as his body shook from his climax.

  Lifting her mouth until only the head of his erection remained inside, she sucked hard on the tip. He shouted, and more semen jetted onto her tongue. She hummed in satisfaction, knowing she’d just given him one of the best orgasms of his life.

  As his hands dropped to his sides, she pulled her mouth from his penis and swiped her fingers over her lips. Gripping the edge of the blanket in one hand, she crawled up his body and draped herself and the blanket over him.

  He clasped her to him, one hand slipping into her undies to palm her behind and the other rubbing circles on her back. She dropped her head to his chest, where his heartbeat thundered against her ear.

  Feeling quite proud of herself, she asked, “Did you like that?”

  He laughed croakily, his long body shaking under hers. “You could say that.”

  “And what about me?”

  “What about you?”

  “Do you like me?”

  She waited, holding her breath. Finally, he replied: “You could say that.”

  It wasn’t what she’d hoped to hear, but it was better than silence. At least he liked her.

  It’s not enough, her heart whispered. Your time is up.

  She’d delayed going home as long as she could, and she had to fly back to Nashville as soon as she and Beck returned from camping. She hadn’t told him yet, but he probably wouldn’t be surprised.

  The thought of being away from Beck made her chest ache. Not seeing him for weeks at a time would be pure misery. And she was worried out of sight would mean out of mind for him. She’d kept him too busy—too sexually satisfied—to seek out other women, but once she was gone…

  A loud pop from the fire jerked her from her disheartening thoughts. Beck shifted beneath her, and she absentmindedly circled his flat brown nipple with the tip of her finger. It pebbled under her touch, and she lightly scraped her fingernail across it.

  He sucked in a harsh breath, the movement of his chest lifting her head. As she rolled his nipple between her thumb and forefinger, he slid his hand down the crevice of her butt to ease between her legs.

  She was so excited from going down on him, wetness had trickled into the creases between her thighs and her mound, soaking her panties. He groaned softly when he felt her slick folds, the sound rumbling through her body.

  She squirmed, hoping he’d slip his talented fingers inside her. Instead, he pulled his hand from her underwear and hooked his fingers in the waistband.

  “I want these off,” he growled. “Now.”

  Somehow, she managed to wiggle out of her panties while on top of him. She held them up in one hand, high over their heads, and he laughed softly. “Are you surrendering?”

  “Yes.” Their eyes locked together. “I’m giving myself to you.”

  He swallowed noisily. “Sit up.”

  She did as he asked, her thighs clamped around his lean waist and her knees digging into the sleeping bag and cushioned pad. She could feel his erection, hot and hard along her backside.

  Using both hands, he gripped her hips and looked up at her. “Take off your bra.”

  She immediately unhooked the front clasp and shrugged the bra from her shoulders. His gaze dropped to her breasts before returning to her face.

  “I thought about this when we talked about camping at the s’mores party. I thought about you on top of me, your body silhouetted against the night sky, your face lit by the fire.”

  His words surprised her, not only because they were so poetic, but because he’d reacted so negatively to their kiss the night of the party. “You wanted me,” she said, both a statement and a question.

  He huffed out a laugh. “Hell yes, I wanted you.” His fingers flexed on her hips. “But I never thought I’d…” H
is eyes slid to her breasts. “Your nipples are so red they look like cherries.”

  Reflexively, her hands went to her breasts, covering her nipples. They were so tight and hard they hurt.

  “Yes,” he urged. “Let me see you play with them.”

  He liked to watch her touch herself. It turned her on too, but she also got a little embarrassed when she did it. And that made him even hotter.

  Cupping her hands under her breasts, she lifted them and pushed them together. His eyes got all hazy and heavy-lidded, and she brushed her thumbs over the hard peaks of her nipples. His erection twitched against her butt, and she shifted backward so it fit more snuggly into the crease between her cheeks.

  He grunted, his fingers digging into her hips. She’d probably have bruises there tomorrow.

  She rolled her nipples between her thumb and forefinger before plucking at them. Feeling the pull between her legs, she dropped one of her hands to her clit. As she rubbed the sensitive nub, he brought one hand to her unattended breast and maneuvered the other between them, slipping two fingers inside her.

  “You’re so hot,” he rasped, gently working his fingers deeper. “You feel like fire.”

  She loved his sex talk. Loved to hear how good she felt. Loved to hear bad words in his honeyed drawl.

  He pressed his fingers against the wall of her vagina, sending little tingles of pleasure through her before withdrawing. As he pumped back into her, she spread her second and third fingers around her clit, pressed them together, and moved them up and down.

  But that didn’t give her any relief. Instead, the throbbing ache in her lower pelvis intensified. She needed him to fill her.

  “Jonah, I need you,” she breathed.

  He immediately pulled his fingers from her body. Desperate for him, she shifted her hips until his erection slid forward to her opening. As she began to lower herself, he gripped her waist, holding her immobile.

  “Condom,” he gasped. “We need a condom.”

  She clambered off him. “Where did you pack them?”

  “There’s one in my pants.”

  She lunged for his cargo pants and held them up. “There are a million pockets on these damn pants!” she complained, patting her hands over the pockets.

  Fortunately, her search didn’t take long. She tossed the condom to him, and by the time she’d crawled back to him, he’d covered his penis with latex.

  She immediately swung her leg over his hips. Balancing herself with one hand on his chest, she positioned herself over his erection. Unable to wait one more second to have him inside her, she sank down, taking as much of him as she could.

  He growled low in his throat as her flesh welcomed him and pressed her down on him with his hands flat against the upper swells of her behind. He slid in a little farther, his testicles flush against her labia.

  She tried to control it … tried to fight it … but the feel of him inside her sent her spiraling toward orgasm. It was always like this with him.

  Closing her eyes, she let her head drop back as her body clenched around his hard length. “I’m coming,” she moaned.

  “I know. I can feel it.”

  He was motionless beneath her, knowing his lack of movement made her orgasm more intense. Sparks radiated from where they were joined, lighting up every cell, and she couldn’t hold back her moans. They echoed in the cocooning silence of the forest.

  When it was over—when she could breathe again—she brought her head forward and opened her eyes. The tension left her muscles, and her body seemed to flow around him like hot wax.

  With her palms flat on his chest, she began to rock on him with smooth, slight movements that kept him deep inside her. Her earlier orgasm had blunted the sharp edge of desire, so she was able to keep the pace slow and steady.

  Beck watched her move, his eyes hooded. He lazily stroked his hands up and down her sides as she rode him, grazing the sides of her breasts and thumbing her nipples before curving over her hips.

  Every roll of her pelvis generated delicious friction on her clit, spreading fire throughout her body. Despite the cool night air, sweat bloomed on her skin, beading between her breasts.

  Without warning, Beck lunged into a sitting position with his bent legs supporting her back. Grasping her knees, he pulled them around his waist and brought her closer until their bellies were flush.

  He swirled his tongue over her neck before capturing her mouth with his. While he licked inside her mouth, he gripped her hips in his big hands and lifted her almost entirely off him before bringing her down again.

  His powerful arms worked her over his erection. Over and over, he shoved in, hard and deep, until she came apart around him, screaming against his mouth. While she still trembled, he reached between their bodies and found her clit with his thumb and forefinger.

  “No, Jonah,” she protested but his name turned into a moan when he gently began to rub.

  “One more,” he crooned. “I want us to come together.”

  With his tongue stroking into her mouth, his erection moving deep inside her body, and his fingers plucking at her clit, it was only a matter of seconds before another orgasm tore through her. It was even stronger than those before, making her sob with pleasure.

  Her internal muscles clamped down, and he stiffened against her. His big body bowed with the force of his release, and he cried out—a raw, broken sound.

  As his penis jerked inside her, she tightened her passage around his length, hoping to prolong his pleasure. He squeezed his eyes shut, an almost inhuman groan falling from his lips.

  She stared at him, preserving this moment in her memory. When he opened his eyes, she tumbled into the darkness of his gaze. She opened her mouth, trying to find the courage to say I love you, but couldn’t.

  She looked away from his beautiful eyes, ashamed and disgusted with herself for being such a wimp. She’d never been this cowardly before. But then again, she’d never wanted anything this much either.

  It was easy to be brave when you had nothing to lose.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The bright green moss covering the hiking trail was springy under Beck’s feet. It muffled his and Ava Grace’s footsteps as they meandered down the path, their hands entwined. Tall redwoods created a canopy overhead, blocking most of the sunlight, and except for the occasional sounds of dripping water and wind, the forest was silent.

  As they passed a log covered with lichen and a couple of monstrous banana slugs, Ava Grace glanced sideways at him. The lush vegetation surrounding them brought out the green in her eyes and made them seem dark and mysterious.

  “It’s so beautiful here.” Her voice was hushed and reverent. “It’s like another world.”

  Before he could reply, she added, “Thank—”

  “Ava Grace,” he warned.

  Her eyes widened at his harsh tone. “What?”

  “I told you to stop thanking me.”

  “But—”

  He shook his head. “No buts, sugar.”

  Over the past forty-eight hours, she’d said thank you at least a hundred times. No exaggeration.

  “I just want you to know how much this trip means to me,” she said.

  He had put a lot of time and energy into planning this trip. And he’d spent a shitload of money on camping gear.

  He’d wanted this outing—Ava Grace’s first camping experience—to be perfect. The camping trip was his way of thanking her for doing so much to help Trinity. She was the best thing to ever happen to the company. In just a few months, she’d propelled it to heights the oldest and most established distilleries had yet to achieve.

  Distributors called daily, eager to represent Trinity. Retail sales had increased significantly, and orders from restaurants and hotels had doubled. Meanwhile, traffic to the Trinity website had grown exponentially, and the company’s social media pages now boasted more likes and followers than all the other bourbon distilleries put together.

  “Planning this trip was a r
eally thoughtful thing to do,” Ava Grace said.

  “Thoughtful?” he echoed.

  “Yes, very thoughtful.”

  “I have no idea what that word means.” He winked at her. “I’m a man.”

  She giggled, a bright, happy sound. And that’s why you really planned this trip.

  He hadn’t wanted to thank her for helping Trinity. That was just a convenient excuse. He’d wanted to do something special for her—something that’d make her happy. He loved seeing her breathtaking, imperfect smile. And he loved hearing her laugh.

  “I know you went to a lot of trouble to surprise me, and I appreciate it,” she added.

  He’d chosen camping because he wanted to share something with her that she’d never shared with anyone else or done before. He’d wanted to give her something no one else had ever given her.

  “I appreciate you, Jonah.”

  He knew she meant what she said. Ava Grace was truly grateful when people did nice things for her. She recognized their efforts and thanked them.

  His mother had expected people to treat her better than they treated everyone else. Her sense of entitlement had been even bigger than her ego. Olivia had been the same way, but he’d been too blind and stupid to see the similarity and heed the warning.

  He clearly remembered the first time he’d given Olivia flowers. He’d stopped at one of the best florists in town and spent a couple hundred bucks on a bouquet of roses, Stargazer lilies, and liatris. He’d thought the flowers were really nice—feminine and fragrant without being too froufrou.

  Instead of thanking him, she handed the bouquet back to him without a word. At first, he thought she was allergic, but then she explained she preferred orchids and hydrangeas.

  Maybe a better boyfriend would’ve filed that information away and made sure to buy her favorite flowers the next time. But he hadn’t.

  When it came right down to it, he hadn’t wanted to do nice things for Olivia. But to his surprise, he wanted to do nice things for Ava Grace. He wanted to buy her flowers and pick up muffins from her favorite bakery. And when he did, she thanked him, usually with a kiss.

  Maybe he wanted to do nice things for her because she did nice things for him. She surprised him at work with baked treats and bought him stuff all the time, everything from a designer button-down shirt to an oversized coffee mug that said, Good morning, handsome. He got a little thrill whenever he wore that shirt or took a sip from that mug, knowing she’d picked it out just for him.