When I can feel the flush spreading across my chest, I let my eyes drift open to meet his. All hints of cockiness, of playfulness, are gone. His eyes are dark, locked on me. His jaw is clenched and his breath is puffing. We stare at each other, both breathing hard.
I light the match, letting everything I want to do to him play over my face, every fantasy, every replay of our almost kiss last night, and our panty-melting kiss tonight.
He ignites, surging up from the picnic table, grabbing my hand, and tugging me out of my seat. He turns and tows me right out of the food court, past the pinging arcade games and the mini golf course, out to the parking lot.
I’m totally ready to be pressed up against the truck, only he doesn’t pause, unlocking the doors, throwing open the back one, and tossing me into the backseat like I weigh nothing.
I don’t have a moment to catch my breath before he’s diving in after me. He has the forethought to pull the door shut, then he’s on me.
I didn’t realize he’d been holding back, taking it easy. But holy fuck, was he ever. I can barely get a breath, I’m so lost in sensation. His groan as he takes my mouth, his tongue diving, taking, dancing with mine.
There’s no hesitation. No playfulness. No teasing. Only raw need. All the crap filling my head just doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is him, us…and the hand sliding down my neck.
I don’t say a word, but the wave of my body tells him exactly what it wants. And the man apparently speaks body, because that hand slides down between my breasts, over my tummy, and straight under the waistband of my leggings. I’m swimming in sensation, and can’t be bothered to worry about him touching my rounded tummy.
That big hand, those calloused fingers, are just the right mix of gentle and determined as they brush over the seam of my panties. Thank God I wore the pretty ones. He might not have eyes on them, but I know, and that simple fact lets me relax into what he’s doing. The whole pre-date checklist, legs, underarms, bikini line flashes through my head briefly, but I can’t hang on to any thought. I’m too distracted by those fingers playing along the elastic near my core.
I pull my mouth from Colt’s and grab a fistful of his shirt, pulling him even closer. “Do it. Don’t tease me, Colt, I’m already a woman on the fucking edge.”
His laugh is pained, his chest heaving. He drops his forehead to mine. “You’re on the edge? I’ve been dreaming of this for months, Evie. Months. I think my heart’s about to stop and I haven’t even felt you yet.”
I widen my legs as much as I can. This backseat is huge but wasn’t really designed to handle people as tall as Colt and I getting horizontal. I grunt in frustration, finally raising my leg to plant my foot on the ceiling. It must give him the room he needs to move because he yanks my panties aside. He makes a quick pass through my folds, biting off a curse when he feels how drenched I am. Then those thick, strong, long fingers are pushing into me, his palm coming to rest over my mound, making my clit oh so happy.
I release Colt’s shirt and wrap my arms around his neck. I need the anchor, the connection, because what those amazing fingers are doing has me about to fly away. Our mouths press together again, and the twin sensations of his tongue driving into me, mimicking the way his fingers are moving, is blowing my mind.
Colt is not the first man to finger me. But holy fuck, do I hope he’ll be the last.
He is so on another level. Or maybe it’s us. The combination of the two of us surpasses everything I’ve ever known. My brain is offline in a way it’s never been with anyone else. It’s just flashes of sensation and a green blinking sign sayingmore.
“You feel so fucking good.” Colt chokes out, pulling his mouth away, sucking in heaving breaths. I can’t answer him because everything in my body is tightening, clenching.
“Coming. God…coming.”
“Jesus fuck!” Colt whisper-yells and slams his hand over my mouth, muffling my screams. I vaguely register the slamming of doors right next to us, and the giggling voices of kids. I can’t bring myself to care though, because I just got hit by a freight train. My body is completely out of my control. All I can do is ride the waves. I’m vaguely aware of Colt cursing as I make way too much noise.
All my muscles finally release and I drop back to the seat, boneless. Little aftershocks are still riding me since Colt’s fingers are still gently stroking. If he’s trying to ease me back down, it’s not working. I clamp my legs around his hand and tighten my arms, pulling him to me until I can reach his ear.
“If you don’t stop, I’m going to come again.”
He drops his head beside mine, his labored breathing filling the now silent truck. “My fucking cock is about to break through my jeans.”
A startled laugh escapes me. I have a vague idea that I should return the favor, but I can’t seem to get my bearings. “I’m gonna need a minute, then I can help you with that.”
“No, you’re not. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna die here. I can’t feel my fucking legs.”
“What?”
“I’m serious Evie. I need help.”
The pain in his voice cuts through my haze. Pushing up against the door, I get a good look down his body. I can’t contain the laughter rolling from me as I look at him. The man is completely pretzel’d. “How on earth did you get in that position?”
“I don’t fucking know. I lost my mind when I saw you spread out. Help me.”
I do, gasping when he pulls his hand out of my panties, laughing way too much as I help him thread one of his legs out from between the front seats. He sighs in relief and drops his chest over my legs, nuzzling his nose at the seam of my thighs.
I thread my fingers through his buzzed hair, enjoying the prickle against my skin. Colt casually turns his head, putting his fingers, the ones just inside me, into his mouth. Sucking them clean. My stomach clenches so hard I moan.
“You taste so fucking good, Evie.” He burrows into my thighs again. “You smell so fucking good.”
