Page 60 of Double Play

“Roll over,” he whispers against my mouth, gently pushing at my shoulder so I shift and place my back to his front. “Slip off your panties.”

“Declan,” I groan, wound as tight as a fast pitch before release, while wiggling out of my underwear. As soon as I’m on my side, I understand his intentions as he flips a portion of the blanket over me. Beneath the cover, he slips his hand over my hip, rucks up my dress, and slides his fingers between my thighs.

“So wet,” he hums into my neck while gliding his fingers directly into me.

I purr, arching my back and pressing my backside against the giant bulge in his light-weight shorts.

“We’ve got to be quiet,” he mutters, working his thick fingers in and out of me while my hips rock.

I squirm and ache, wanting him deeper. His thumb flicks my clit, and I spread my legs, hooking my ankle over his knee, opening myself up to him.

“Gonna come for me, wildfire? Gonna let me feel that flame?”

I groan, panting as his fingers work their magic and my hips roll in a way my backside kisses that thick length in his shorts.

“I want you,” I whimper. I’ve never done anything like this before. Sex in public. Sex under the stars. Sex in the back of a truck.

“Be a good girl,” he hums against my neck. “And I’m all yours.”

Good god, why do I like both the praise and the gift.

Within minutes, I’m set alight, like those fireworks we watched from his balcony or the twinkling stars breaking out as night blankets us. Actually, I’m more like the neon streams of downtown Nashville, vibrant and bright and loud.

Declan covers my mouth awkwardly with his other hand as I melt against his fingers.

Then I hear the rip of Velcro at the waistband of his shorts. He shifts, pulling away from me only briefly before he’s back on his side, his chest to my back, and his warm, hot cock against my ass.

“We don’t want to give anything away. No rocking the truck.” He chuckles. “We’ll go nice and slow.”

He hitches my leg over his thigh, spreading me even wider, and settles his tip at my entrance, rolling the top against my clit.

I shiver.

“You like that?” he whispers.

“I like everything you do to me.” I hum. Every touch. Every kiss. Every chat. Every second we spend together.

And when Declan takes his time to glide into me, connecting us together, he grunts, “I like you.”

The phrase is so childish and yet nothing has ever been said with such emotion. He likes who I am as I am. Driven and spunky. He appreciates my body, but he loves my mind and my humor.

I slip my hand between my thighs, spreading my fingers like a V to give his dick an extra squeeze as he drags out entering and exiting me.

“Oh fuck,” he softly grunts behind me.

“You like that?” I question him, flirtation in my tone.

“I like everything about you,” he counters, not exactly matching my sentiment but adding to it.

I smile to myself as his hips keep a steady pace. The deliberate slowness drawing out the build up. The ease of him sliding into me is aided by the slickness between my thighs. Nothing has ever felt like this. Him and me. This position. This connection.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was making love to me. Or rather, making me fall in love with him.

“You feel so good, wildfire,” he murmurs behind me lost in his own euphoria as his hands grip my hip and I lean forward more, deepening the angle.

I hum again.

“Want you to come around me,” he demands.