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His fingers moved again to the edge of her panties, burrowing under them, touching the soft curls that shielded the hot, wet folds of her feminine flesh. Sarah’s eyes fluttered.
“Watch me, Sarah,” the order was rough, growling in intensity. “Don’t close your eyes. Watch me.
Her eyes met his. A gasping moan escaped her throat. His dark face was set in lines of concentrated desire, the edge of his control reflected in the dark depths of his pupils.
She felt his fingers, coated now with the creamy essence of her need. Her moisture lay thick and hot along the lips of her cunt as it flowed from the hot depths of her vagina.
“Damn, you’re wet,” he growled. “How much wetter can you get, darlin’?”
Sarah knew she could get much wetter. She did often, thinking about his touch, his kisses. When her fingers stole to her hot flesh, she dreamed of Brock, his touch, his possession, and she got much wetter.
“Brock, please—” she pleaded, snared by his eyes, by the fingers entering the narrow cleft he caressed.
Was he punishing her? Would he tease her here, then leave her as she had left him, begging for more?
“I’m going to fuck you, Sarah,” he told her as his fingers moved slowly over the drenched lips of her quivering cunt. “But I won’t be left begging again, do you understand me?”
She wasn’t able to answer. Her eyes widened, she gasped, moaned. Where she was empty, she was suddenly filled, stretched, long broad fingers were testing her, plunging deep as the hand at the back of her neck kept it from falling back in ecstasy.
“I wish you could see how pretty you are, trying to hide what I’m doing, all flushed and shy and aroused.” His fingers moved deeper, spreading her, testing the tight, inner recess of her body.
“Brock,” she gasped his name, unable to say more as her flesh clenched over his fingers, drenching them further.
“So wet and ready for me.” A smile tipped his hard lips.
She whimpered in need as his fingers retreated, pulling away from her, leaving her gasping, nearly begging him for more. Then slowly, his movements teasing, taunting, he filled her once again. Her nails bit into his arm, her heart raced out of control, making breathing more than difficult. Small whimpering moans escaped her throat, helpless desire flooding her system, washing over his fingers to drench the silk of her panties. Each time he retreated she felt empty, where she had been filled before. Achingly aware of the brief moments where the edge of release taunted her, made her reach, yearn for more. Then she was filled again, pushed ever close to the mind consuming moment where she knew her body would explode into a pleasure so intense, so violent it would shatter her sanity for those brief moments.
“Will you leave with me, Sarah?” he asked her softly. “Right now. We’ll leave. Go wherever you want. But when we get there, I’m going to rip those panties off you and thrust so hard inside that tight, wet pussy that you’ll scream out your orgasm.”
Her vagina spasmed. Sarah felt the betraying muscles clench in hunger at the vivid images that hit her brain. Brock, rising over her, the thick expanse of his erection pounding into her. She fought for breath. She was so close to orgasm right now that she could feel her cunt grasping in an anguished plea for it. Her juices trickled over his fingers, making her inner body slick, accessible to whatever he desired to do to her.
“Yes.” The betraying sigh was so filled with longing that Sarah knew she would writhe in shame later.
His eyes narrowed, his own breathing rough now as he watched her.
“Where?” he asked her, his voice hard as his fingers slowly pulled completely from her, then plunged home forcibly.
Sarah bit her lip, fighting a scream of pure, electrified sensation. Her hands gripped the edge of the table in desperation, her thighs quivered with the hot flash of impending release. She gasped, whimpered. Tears came to her eyes as the pulsating demand for more had her almost begging. She wanted to beg. She wanted to plead with him, here, now.
“My house.” She saw the surprise flare in his eyes. “My bed.”
He smiled slow and sure, approval reflecting in his expression. His fingers pulled free of her body with a slow, regretful motion. He carefully tucked the silk of her panties back over her protesting cunt, watching her intently as he did so. He stood to his feet; a slow, graceful movement that made her breath catch in her throat. Then he was holding his hand out to her, watching her carefully. She placed her hand in his, allowing him to draw her to her feet, then lead her slowly from the bar and into the starry night.
His hand rode low on her back, never breaking contact with her. His broad chest brushed against her as they walked, she had never been so aware of another man’s body next to her. Even years ago, he had done this to her. Made her frighteningly aware of her femininity, her weakness and his strength.
“Did you bring your car?” he asked her as he led her into the dark parking lot. He kept his hand at her back, moving her to the jeep with the trademark August Ranch logo on the side.
“No. Cab.” She could barely speak; the need pulsed so heavy in her body.
When they moved to the side of the jeep, she gasped harshly as he suddenly turned her, pressing her into the side of the vehicle.
“Six years,” he bit out, lifting her against him as his head lowered. “Six fucking years, Sarah.”
His voice was tormented, his lips were hot, hard as they covered hers, his tongue sinking into her mouth as he wedged his erection hard against the soft pad of her cunt.
Sarah’s self-control was never at its best with Brock. She cried into his kiss, her hands locking desperately into his hair as she fed on his passion. Their tongues twined together, licking at each other, groaning in their need. He ground his pelvis against her, his cock a hard, throbbing heat beneath the jeans that separated them.
“I could take you here,” he growled. “I should.”
