My eyes snap shut when the tip of his nose grazes my throbbing-with-need clit. I fist the blanket, struggling to maintain a sense of normality when he blows hot air on my already overheated pussy. The combination of his warm, minty breath and the lust surging through my veins has my coil tightening so firmly, it snaps the instant his tongue lashes my pulsating clit. I buck against him like an out-of-control wild horse while riding the most orgasmic, soul-shattering climax I’ve ever experienced.
After guiding me down from climactic bliss with long slithers of his tongue and gentle sucks, Slater crawls up my body. So my thighs can straddle his without anything in the way, he yanks his boxer shorts down before snagging a condom out of his jeans pocket. My earlier orgasm is forgotten when I watch him roll it down his cock, pushed aside for a more blinding, needy pulse.
He coats the tip of his cock with my juices before gripping my hair in a determined hold. He knows I like it a little rougher in the bedroom. With his fingers stinging my scalp and his eyes locked on mine, he lunches forward, impaling me with one quick thrust of his hips. He seals his mouth over mine, stealing the whimpers ripping from my throat. I’m wet, but it still hurts. His cock is too thick and long not to.
He pumps into me on repeat, taking as much as he’s giving. It’s a wonderous exchange that proves my list is as important to him as it is to me. He’s not fucking me. He’s making love, as per the stipulation on my list. His slower, more controlled pace doesn’t weaken the intensity bristling between us. It’s as intense as ever, like fireworks in a dark sky. It was like this the first time we fooled around as well—a mere week after we met. I didn’t want him to think less of me, but I couldn’t help acting on the energy teeming between us. That’s why I kissed him like I did the night we met. It was either kiss him or forever wonder if the purrs of his engine were solely responsible for the frantic quiver of my pulse.
In case you’re wondering, his engine had nothing to do with it. It was all him—the stranger I met outside a rundown old pub.
Over the next forty-five minutes, Slater relays what I mean to him without a word seeping from his lips. He may fuck like a god, but he has no issues showing his emotions while doing it. He screws me until I’m beginning to wonder if he’s my penance for the years of suffering I endured when I was a teen. They say every storm ends in a rainbow—perhaps he’s mine?
* * *
Slater’s heart is racing more now than it was previously. Or maybe it just sounds that way because I have my ear squashed against his chest. I’m snuggled in close to his side as his callused hand smooths my frizzed hair that’s years overdue for a trim.
His hands stop their smoothing motion when we hear a male voice outside the room. “She’ll be here; she always comes here when she’s home.”
When the ladder creaks in the silence of our panic, Slater and I spring to our feet to gather our clothes dumped haphazardly around the room. Before I have all my items gathered, a door opening causes me to freeze in panic. Slater stands in front of me, sheltering my naked body with his when the person enters the room without knocking.
As Slater takes on a defensive stance, the room falls into silence. Even a pin dropping would be heard.“Yeah, she’s in here, Dad. We’ll be down in a minute,” shouts an angry male voice I immediately recognize.
With heated cheeks, I balance on my tippy toes to peer past Slater’s shoulder, wanting my suspicions confirmed. There, staring back at me, are the furious green eyes of Dylan Tucker, the one man who’ll happily tell me he loves me, even knowing I’ll never say it back.
After his eyes burn into mine for several heart-clutching seconds, his gaze strays to Slater. His face is hot with pure, unbridled anger. When his eyes snap down, it dawns on me that Slater has his arms crossed in front of his chest, not bothering to cover himself from Dylan’s infuriating glare.
I plaster my torso to Slater’s back before lowering my hands to cover his impressive package.“You’re not helping.” Slater’s taunt is a cross between cheeky and stern.
I attempt to muffle my giggles in Slater’s back, but I’m shuddering so hard, Slater shudders right along with me.
Dylan doesn’t see the humor in our situation. “Get dressed, then join me in my truck. I’ll drive you home.”
Just as I’m about to protest that I have to take Misty and Charlie back, Dylan says, “Dad will take care of the horses.”
When Dylan climbs down the ladder with a clatter, Slater chuckles. I slap his bicep before shimmying into my jeans. Once they’re up my quaking thighs, I scan the room, seeking the bra Slater removed earlier.
“Are you looking for this?” Slater swings my bra around his index finger. When I attempt to snatch it out of his hand, he yanks it out of my reach.“I might need to add this to my collection.”
I fold my arms in front of my chest, covering my breasts from his perving eyes. He pouts before handing my bra back to me.“Maybe next time?” he asks with a wink.
“I thought rock stars collected panties?”
He laughs even louder than before. “Not drummers, baby. We’re all about the beat.”
He taps my breasts with his hands while mimicking drumming noises.“Perfect rhythm. If only Dylan wasn’t waiting for us outside, then I could test out more of your sexual rhythms.”
Now he’s sulking right alongside me.
Once we’re presentable, we walk hand in hand to Dylan’s truck. I hop in first. While sliding across the red bench seat, I keep my gaze low so I don’t catch Dylan’s furious eyes. Even if he hadn’t busted us butt-naked, he’d still know what we were doing when he arrived. There’s no denying the unique mix of wildflowers and motor oil slicking my skin.
When Slater slides in next to me, he places his hand on my thigh. My eyes lift to his when he taps something on my leg. For the first time the past three months, it isn’t his index finger. He isn’t a holding hands type of guy, but he has no issues curling his hand around my thigh when we ride. When I notice he’s tapping my leg with the red pencil I used earlier tonight, I can’t stop the smile that forms on my face.
“You have to use this pencil every time we cross an item off your list.”
I nod, praying the quick bob of my head doesn’t release the moisture flooding my eyes. “I will.”
After handing me the pencil, he presses his lips to my temple before pulling me close to his chest. . .
I dart to my suitcase in the corner of my suite, pulling out every article of clothing I own before I remember I placed my pencil in the front pocket of my carry-on baggage. It hasn’t been sharpened in years, but I carry it with me everywhere I go with the hope that one day I'll use my trusty red pencil again.
