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“Sweet.” His breath over her chin. “Cotton candy.”
She moved her hand from the top of his shoulder to the back of his neck and their lips met again. This time with more pressure for longer. Oh yes, this was so very fine and smooth and achingly delicious.
They kissed the sweet to tart and all the way back again, breaking each movement, only to dive at it again, to push it a little harder, a little deeper, until she was tasting his whole mouth and he was tasting hers and it wasn’t enough. She had to press her hands into his chest and bring her knees up under her and lean into his body, feel the heat of him, the occasional tightening of his fingers in her hair.
“Good.” She licked the word over his lips.
“God.” He grazed his teeth on hers.
“More.”
“Shut up while I kiss you.”
There were more kisses, easy and light and stinging and lazy, and each one a delicious possession. She didn’t need to ask about crawling into his lap; he shifted to let her straddle his hips, her knees sinking into the cushions. She sat across his thighs while they kissed again and the sweet-tart got steamy when he cupped her breast. They’d reached the groping stage and she melted into it.
He didn’t melt, he heated. The arm around her back hauling her up his denim-clad thighs until she met the undeniable proof he was beautifully frustrated too.
She left his mouth to arch and flex against him. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached the dry-humping portion of tonight’s entertainment.”
Both hands on her ass, he rolled their hips, his eyes down to watch. “Stay seated, keep your hands inside the carriage at all times and enjoy the ride.”
She laughed. He was off the rails now. He was out of his careful head and grounded in his wicked body and his body was all over hers.
There wasn’t anything sweet about the kisses that followed. They were too deliberate and greedy. The hardness of his zipper and everything beneath was almost, almost enough to get her off, and she shook with the need for more.
“Can you come like this?”
She moaned a response. Maybe, maybe. Oh, please.
“What do you need?”
Skin and teeth and tongues, and his fingers inside the ache at the center of her. His lips were at her neck, on the thud of her pulse, and her pulse was the rhythm of her body as she rocked and strained. “So ready.”
His hand was harder, his knuckles, his thumb bent against the damp heat of her, his teeth on her breast.
“Oh God, Tom.” If he kept both hands inside the carriage, if he didn’t break the rules, she’d die here on the edge of coming undone. “I need you to touch me inside.”
All hail the stretchiness of yoga pants. She got what she needed, his fingers in her wetness. “Hhhh.” She could have broken his hand she ground down so hard, her knees open as wide as they’d go.
“Roller coaster,” he said, and took her mouth. It stopped a scream. Breathless, hands on his shoulders for balance, she hit her peak and shuddered through her orgasm, coming to rest with her head on his chest and his arms loosely around her.
He stroked her hair and she slowed her breathing. “That was insane,” she said. They’d stayed fully dressed. It was better sex than she’d had with all the usual buildup, bodies exposed and flesh fully tested, with more thorough preparation and deliberate intention, and back-and-forth instruction.
Yeah, she’d wanted him, wanted to see how far she could push this tension they had, but zero to hero wasn’t in her expectation set.
“I’d like to do that again, but with less clothing.” She sat back and climbed off his lap, conscious of her dead legs.
He stood. “It’d be better if we didn’t.” He was in the kitchen banging around before she could process that.
He ran water in the sink, kept his back to her, even when she came to the counter. “Leave that for the morning. I’ll do it.”
“It’s done.”
“What is this?” What did she get wrong here?
“I’m hiking in the morning. Need to go into the office in the afternoon. Need to get sleep.”
“What we just did. You, hand in my pants. Me, coming all over you. That was, what, taking out the trash?”
