Beads of sweat glisten on his skin. One slides down, briefly resting in the hollow of his throat before it disappears under the loose neckline of his tank top. I swallow reflexively, caught off-guard by the sudden urge to chase that little droplet with my tongue.
“Did—uhm. You did great!”
“Yeah?” Micah’s lips curl into a smile that looks more lopsided from my angle. “Gonna tell me again what a good boy I am?”
“Do you want me to?” I only realize how close we are when Micah’s soft exhale brushes my throat.
He presses his lips against my chin first, then the corner of my mouth, turning it into a sloppy kiss. The angle is off, with Micah still halfway upside down, and me not knowing how to make upfor that. My arms tangle with his, searching for something to hold on to—until Micah wins out and pulls me into his lap.
It’s not a smooth, romantic transition in the slightest: I stumble and trip, then land sideways on Micha’s knees rather than his thighs. Reflexively, I reach out to curl one arm around his neck, the other reaching behind me to prevent sliding to the floor. I catch the steering wheel—at the same moment, Micah pulls my right leg across. I huff, leaning backward so that I don’t accidentally knee him in the stomach. Expecting him to let go of me, I’m surprised to feel Micah’s hands lingering on my thighs. His fingers rub along my pale skin, tickling the fine hairs growing there. Then he pulls me even closer until I have to spread my legs wide to straddle him.
“What—” I groan when Micah only grins at me—and then tenses his thighs to push his hips upward, rubbing up against me. I rush to free a hand and clasp it in front of my mouth, but too late; the noise I made bounces around the cabin.
“Re-really?Here?!”
“Why not? Just like chapter 26.” Micah’s eyes gleam over his flushed cheeks.
“Wow, that book really hooked you, hm?” I’m aware that I’m babbling, but I also cannot stop. His bulge rubs against the inside of my thighs, scrambling my thoughts. A shudder races down my spine, and I shimmy on Micah's lap. I must have done something right with my unintentional movements because his fingers tense, digging into my legs.
“Oh fuck,” he groans, scooting me closer again. “Come here.”
I laugh at his demand, since I literally alreadyamright there, but when Micah wraps his arm around the small of my back and pulls me flush against his chest, I have to admit that it's much better like this, with his breath against my cheeks, our bodies sliding together.
“Better now?” I'm still grasping for the right words, but these ones practically offer themselves up, eager to be whispered against his lips.
“Linden,” Micah moans, sliding our mouths together in short, open kisses that leave room for both of us to gasp for air. “Stop talking.”
I nod, biting my lip as I focus on alternating between arching and rounding my back to keep moving in short little bursts. Despite the limited movement, it feels incredible to rub my trapped erection against Micah's abs and chest, the answering hardness in his pants pushing against the back of my balls through my shorts.
It’s almost like that first time in my truck behind the bar, except it also isn’t like that at all. The sun might be setting, but it’s light enough to see everything, and we’re not safely hidden away in the backseat of my truck; we’re sitting in a half-open tractor cabin in the middle of my family’s orchard. Maybe it’s the thrill of being so exposed, or it’s because of the way Micah’s hands are pushing and pulling at me, moving me however he wants, that heightens every sensation. It makes it much easier for me to chase my own pleasure.
I bite off another groan when I push down in the exact moment that Micah bucks his hips upward, swallowing the noise quickly so I can take a big, shuddering breath.
Micah’s hand catches my chin, turning my face up so that I’m looking at him instead of down between us. “Not…not what I meant,” he gets out, his thumb tracing my lower lip before he leans in for another kiss.
He tastes of heat and sun and of cherries, like he absorbed their sweetness. Although it’s been two weeks of nonstop cherries everywhere, I crave their taste like this, chasing it and licking it out of Micah’s mouth.
With one hand, I push his cap off, then grab his hair, pulling his head back so I can move with more intent against him.
Which is kind of silly, since either of us could just squeeze a hand in between and push us over quickly. But neither Micah nor I want to interrupt our frantic rhythm. I don’t even want to stop for long enough to pull my shirt or pants away; I just want to enjoy those short bursts. Micah’s thighs tense under my own every time he pushes upward, which is enough to make my stomach drop with anticipation—until the friction causes sparks to light up behind my eyes.
“Please, say it.” Micah presses the words against my throat.
“Wh—good—good boy,” I moan, almost a question, hoping that I’m getting it right.
His answering groan is encouraging enough that I slow down my movements until I'm languidly sliding back and forth, conscious of every drag of my dick against Micah's.
“You’re, you’re so…mh…God, so good,” I manage as I grind our hips together. His erection nudges against my balls, and stars fizzle at the corner of my vision.
“Tease.”
“Mean it!” This time, I’m the one to force Micah to look at me, though I grab for his hair instead of his chin. His eyes take a moment to focus, their pupils blown so wide they both appear the same color for a moment, just a sliver of light blue remaining to distinguish one side from the other.
“You feel so fucking good.” I want him to know that this is everything I imagined when I pictured having my first boyfriend. Just doing what feels good, trusting that they’ll tell me what they like—or simply do it. “Fuck, you makemefeel so—God, so good!”
Micah’s hands squeeze my thighs, then my ass. For a moment, he holds eye contact before digging his fingers in to nudge at the sensitive area between my cheeks.
I moan out loud at the unexpected sensation.
