Page 84 of In Your Wake

“Max,” he groans against my mouth. “You sure you want this?”

“I’ve always wanted to kiss you.”

He pairs his dark chuckle with a gentle rock of his hips, his hard length pressing firmly against my core. “I’m not talking about kissing.”

“Then what are you talking about?” I tease, smiling against his lips.

“Not sure you want to hear it.”

I tug his lower lip between my teeth, loving his growl, then release it. “You’re right. I want you to show me.”

He tucks his lip into his mouth, lowering me down until my feet touch the ground. Then, in one swift move, he grips my hips and spins me around, giving me barely enough time to lift my hands to cushion my face from the trunk.

It’s rough. It’s aggressive.

And it’s everything I need.

He pushes himself against my ass and brings his mouth to my ear, his short beard scratching my skin. “Tell me if this becomes too much.”

The words, the mystery of what he’s got in mind, shove me over the edge, consuming my body with white heat. Mitchell hooks his thumbs into my shorts, yanking them down enough to expose my ass to the cold air, only for a second, before he palms it with his large hands. I hear his moan as he kneads my flesh.

I reach behind, cupping him, pressing my hand firmly against his hard shaft, feeling it twitch through the thin fabric of his sweats. He leans into it, then pulls his pants and underwear down.

I move my hand aside and then his hot, bare skin is on mine. Rubbing. Pressing. He reaches to my front, dipping his hand between my thighs.

“Damn, Toots. You’re so nice and wet.”

I’m about to bitch about the nickname, but then he pinches my clit with his thick fingers, rubbing his cock against my ass, and I’m too distracted to mind. The seriousness of what we’re doing disappears in a mess of moans, heavy breathing, heartbeats, and sweat. And I refuse to even consider the consequences.

Explosions go off everywhere. Through my brain and ears. It’s so much to take, I almost tell him to stop, but instead I arch my back, pushing my ass into him, urging him to rub himself harder, and me as well. The thick sound of skin-on-skin is too intense in the quiet woods, but after months of hardly any physical contact with a man, it’s also one of the best sounds I’ve ever heard.

I’m already wound so perfectly tight, I barely even need his touch, but the pressure of his fingers shoots blood to my extremities and my muscles tighten so hard that the moment he dips his finger into me, I’m done for. I shut my eyes and grip onto the trunk, its bark slicing my hands.

“Don’t stop,” I order in a raspy voice. “Don’t you dare stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He grunts, rubbing against my ass even harder now.

He fists my hair with his free hand, rocking his hips, slow and hard, hammering me with his finger, while his thumb works my clit. My legs shake, my core clenches, and sparks jump up my spine as my orgasm hits. Mitch hurries to release my hair and covers my mouth with his hand, smothering my screams, and I let myself go into a tumbling, mumbling mess of ecstasy. A few seconds later, he comes too, his warm release hitting my lower back.

I let my head fall back onto his chest, and he holds me there, bringing his hand up to my throat, his wet thumb caressing the space right beneath my ear.

“Don’t move,” he says, and I quickly realize he’s undressed and is using his boxers to clean me up.

Once that’s done, I spin around and watch as he pulls his sweats back on, giving me a momentary glimpse of his still rigid and big dick. For some weird reason, my cheeks blush.

The guy just came on my back while finger fucking me against a tree, and I’m embarrassed about seeing his cock?

I’m so conflicted; I’m not sure if I should laugh or take him into my arms and give him my entire being.

He seems just as torn, averting his gaze to the ground, as if unsure what to do next.

The implications of the uncrossable line we’ve sprinted over hit me like a sucker punch. A deep, rattling chuckle seems to roar from the depths of my gut and spill from my lips.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, frowning deeply, clearly thinking I’ve gone insane.

“How fucked up we are.”

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