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I moved until my hips were wedged between her thighs, then shucked my t-shirt up even farther past her hips until her breasts were exposed.
“Your vagina doesn’t pack that great of a punch,” I teased just before pulling her nipple into my mouth.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, her breasts shaking as she started to laugh. “I’m going to forever be embarrassed about this. What are the odds?”
I switched to the other nipple, causing her to hiss.
“I’m just lucky I didn’t cut you with my teeth,” I admitted. “That could’ve been fun to explain. At least I know how to perform sutures. Can you imagine having to go into the ER and explain why you had a laceration on your vagina?”
She giggled, her breath now coming out in pants as I ground myself against her and continued to press my denim-clad cock against her mound.
“Inside,” she breathed.
I started to stand up, thinking that she meant that she wanted to go inside, but she latched on to my hair and started to shake her head. “No. Inside. Of me!”
Understanding dawned, and I reached for the zipper on my jeans for the second time that night, pulling myself free and notching myself at her entrance.
Even without my mouth—I made a mental note to taste her for real at some point tonight—she was wet.
The head of my cock slipped in easily, seating inside of her fully, and being engulfed by flames.
“Jesus,” I hissed, my eyes closing and likely crossing.
“Hurry.” She lifted her hips, causing me to slip just a little bit farther inside.
“Patience,” I said, teeth gritted, as I pulled back, then sank inside just a little bit more.
“God,” she breathed. “You’re teasing me!”
I wasn’t teasing her. I was trying not to come.
Which was what was so funny.
I’d already had her once tonight. One would think that I’d have more control than I did.
But, obviously, when it came to Crockett Archer, control wasn’t ever going to happen.
Therefore, when I realized that it was futile, I reared up onto my knees, lifted her by the hips, and pushed in deep and hard.
She cried out, her back bowing, and sank her fists into the grass above her head.
Her tits bounced, and the sight of her wearing my shirt, tits exposed, back arched, and her pussy stuffed full of my cock was enough to have my balls tightening.
“Get yourself off,” I ordered. “Play with your clit.”
She licked her lips, her eyes opening to slits, and brought one of her hands down to where we were connected.
I pulled back and pushed inside, and her fingers dragged along the length of my cock as she did, causing it to jolt inside of her.
She grinned wickedly, then brought her juice-covered fingers to her clit and started to swirl.
She didn’t go fast, and she didn’t actually touch her clit, just circled it and got herself off all the while I filled her over and over. And watched.
I wasn’t sure what was hotter—watching her play with herself, or watching my cock disappear inside of her pussy.
My cock was slick with her juices, and each time I’d disappear inside, I’d come out covered even more.
It was driving me insane, and at one point, I knew I wasn’t going to last.
When I started to come, I couldn’t stop myself from pulling out, fisting my cock, and splashing my release all over her hand, her clit, and her lower belly.
She paused, surprised by my move.
“Keep it going,” I urged, fisting my cock so that I could thrust it back inside.
She cried out, and then she was coming again, tightening around my cock as she rubbed my release into her clit.
“Oh, fuck, fuck!” she cried, her voice loud and clear.
I waited until the vibrations finally subsided before pulling free of her.
But instead of taking her inside like I would do in a moment or two, I pulled my t-shirt free of her body, cleaned her off, and then helped her up onto her feet.
“Let’s go to the hot tub for a bit,” I murmured. “I have a feeling we’re going to get a visit from the cops, and I’d just rather be out here so we don’t have to answer the door.”
Her laughter was enough to make me happy I’d come up with the idea.
“Now…” I said teasingly as we sank into the hot water together. “Tell me everything about your plans for running and getting Olympic gold, and don’t skip a single thought or detail.”
CHAPTER 16
You’re fat. But you’re good fat.
-An avocado to itself
CROCKETT
“What’s bothering you?” I whispered to the man that’d finally pulled over to get gas in his bike.
I had no freakin’ clue how fuel efficient a motorcycle was. Until I was on the back of one, anyway, and realized that we’d have to ride for hours straight and utilize my bladder control.
It was two hours into our trip, two hours since I’d drank my weight in water when we’d stopped to get breakfast, when I’d finally tapped out and pointed at an exit sign.
