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“Really, snowboard guy? You’re going with that line?” I giggle.
He flashes me a dark look, then shifts, and I get a glimpse of the tent in his boxers, forgetting what I was about to say. He places his hand flat on my stomach, holding me in place while I wiggle my butt against the sheets with him on top of me. Damn, his pine mixed with sweat scent is intoxicating.
“What do you think about us fucking?” he asks, more serious this time, cupping my pussy.
The heat of his body covers mine, and I want nothing more than for him to take me any way he wants. “This is too much,” I reply while my body shakes with need.
“Is it?” he asks, kissing me, taking my mouth captive. He throws my shirt on the ground and runs his palms over my ribs. He groans and tickles his knuckles over the inside of my left leg. Then he grabs my knee and presses his lips to my skin, trailing his mouth over a scar there.
My fingers disappear into his hair, and he growls. I pull on the strands, and his dick twitches. Good to know he likes a bit of pain.
Moving up in a trail of kisses, he whispers, “You haven’t said no,” against my mouth, biting on my bottom lip before tracing it again with his tongue.
His calloused fingers push through my dripping sex, and he chuckles. “Damn, this tight cunt is going to be all mine,” he says, voice laced with want, his middle finger disappearing between my aching folds. He starts to tease me, and my stomach tenses as he runs his finger up and down my slit. His breathing becomes labored like my own. Glad to know I’m not the only one who’s a mess. His breath tickles my temple, and my body starts to shake with need and the oncoming orgasm.
Two fingers move deep inside me, teasing my inner walls, and I groan against his parted lips. Growling, he moves his fingers back and forth, in and out, as he takes possession of my mouth again. I melt into him, holding on to his shoulders as he explores each part of me.
“Fuck, babe. How long has it been? I don’t think I’ve ever felt a pussy this tight before,” he says slowly, nuzzling my neck.
“You can’t ask a girl that,” I tell him, and my back arches from the mattress when he finds the place that almost sets me off. His fingers keep exploring me, like the expert he probably is.
“Fuck, you’re an asshole,” I say, my eyelids drifting closed while my legs tremble, and a moan I haven’t heard before escapes from my lips.
“An asshole who’s ten seconds away from getting you off,” the smug bastard grunts.
I look up into his eyes. “Is that how long you’ll last?” I ask, biting on my lip, my chest moving up and down while my heart pounds.
He pinches my clit, and I swear, my eyes travel into the back of my head as I scream his name, wanting the orgasm to steal my breath away. A lopsided smile lights up his face. Pushing two fingers inside, he opens me up even more. My body trembles with need when he finds my sweet spot again.
“How long has it been?” he murmurs against my lips.
“I thought we were going to ignore the question?” I ask. He stops moving inside me, and I try to push my legs together, but he holds them open with his knee, his index finger and middle digit lazily moving left to right. I swear to God I can hear how wet I am.
“Let’s make another deal,” he says.
“Jeez,” I say, brushing my hair behind my ears, panting like crazy.
“Let’s promise each other to tell the truth, no matter what.”
“Why?”
“Makes it easier.” He shrugs. “Honesty is the best policy, Ace.”
“Are you a fortune cookie?” I mutter. His fingers ease in deeper, and my legs buck.
“Damn right,” he says, pushing his thumb against my throbbing clit, and I gasp.
“Okay, you win, you son of a bitch,” I growl, out of breath. He grins, pushing down on me again with his full weight.
Damn, he’s strong. “So how long has it been?” he asks, kissing my neck, his expert tongue moving from left to right.
I swallow hard. Okay, moment of truth. “I’ve actually, I mean, I haven’t,” I start to tell him, my voice barely a whisper. “I haven’t, you know before,” I say, rambling on.
He stops kissing me, his lips lingering on my feverish flesh. His fingers leave me bare, and I actually groan a “no” in protest. Why am I even going there? Talk about a cold shower.
He glances up into my eyes. “What are you trying to say?” He laughs. “It’s not like I’m your first, although I would like to fuck up anyone who had you before me. And before you start saying that I’m a chauvinist pig, I fucking know, okay.” He chuckles, a smile tugging on his lips while he pushes his fingers into his mouth, and hums when he licks up my cream.
I pinch my eyelids closed from embarrassment, and he grabs my chin. “Look at me, so how many do I need to fuck up?”
