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I let out another gasp, trying to suffocate it by pressing my face to his shoulder. He let me until the sound retreated, then leaned into me until my lips were on his neck and his were on mine. And we moved together. My hips swayed and legs squeezed his ribcage until it was probably hard for him to take a breath. Not that he complained. He just panted and rammed in, tweaking my g-spot and my clit all at once.
For a long time, I’d used to imagine the sex that went on in my favorite romance books was fake. Nobody could actually orgasm like that, right? God, I’d been so wrong. The heat flaring through my lower belly told me as much.
My lungs started heaving, and he must have recognized the beginnings of my pleasure, because he pressed his lips to mine and took my scream as it tore through me. Slowly, and with measured thrusts, he helped me through it, then let me collapse to the blankets when my energy was gone.
“Good girl,” he said, then sped up again.
With my hands covering my face and my mouth, I felt him swell, then spill inside me.
“How’s that for whiskey dick?” he questioned, a knowing grin curving his lips.
“You’ll do,” was all I managed to pant out while I recovered.
He chuckled, then laid down beside me and pulled me so close. With my head to his chest, I could hear his heartbeat as everything else besides the cicadas became silent.
“I love you,” I whispered to him.
He ran his hand through my ratted hair.
“Love you,” he murmured back, pulling one of the blankets over top of us.
Contentment wasn’t really a word I’d understood before him. But in moments like that, I’d realized that I’d found it. True contentment.
Chapter 23
-Owen-
Where the fuck did I put my glasses?
Last thing I remembered I was balls deep in Mia, then I was waking up in the buttcrack of nowhere with my glasses missing, a severe case of raunchy cottonmouth, and the sun glaring through the canopy of trees above us.
Mia wiggled a little in my arms as my eyes threatened to burn out of their sockets.
I’d drunk too much.
My young girlfriend blinked her eyes open and made a face filled with pain.
“Ugh, this is why I don’t drink,” she whispered, fingers pressing her temples.
I couldn’t help the chortle that escaped me.
The copious amounts of alcohol I’d consumed roiled in my belly, and I craved something greasy and crispy, like bacon and yolky eggs.
“Breakfast?” I asked her, running my fingers through the hair at her scalp.
“Mmm, yes please,” she agreed, sitting up.
The blanket fell off her and the disheveled state of her made me grin. I loved rumpling her up. It brought out that caveman part of me that said yes, this is my woman.
A whole different sort of moan echoed from where Paula and Jamie were, at the other side of the clearing. These ones weren’t filled with pleasure, but rather pain.
“I need grease,” came Paula’s unmistakable voice.
God, it grated on me. For the most part, we tolerated each other fine, but once in a while my knee jerk response came back and I cringed just at the sound of her voice.
“Let’s go home,” I told Mia, sitting up so I could figure out where my glasses had gone.
“Here,” she said, holding them out to me. “They must’ve fallen off while we were sleeping. I found them by my head.”
