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“Suck it now,” I rumbled, forcing her to open her lips again, and seeking the seething warmth of her soft, wet mouth.
She obediently complied, sucking me feverishly, and I soon found myself entranced at watching her work, at the way her cheeks hollowed as they pulled back, but never letting the head of my cock to escape the tight clutch of her lips. The sinuous, clever tongue continually snaked along the underside of my shaft, the heat of her breath, her tears welling, and eventually falling down her cheeks as she serviced me with increasing fervor, bordering on desperation. I loved how hard her nipples were as she worked me, betraying the arousal she could never bear to admit she experienced at worshiping a man’s cock. My cock.
The imagery—and the devilishly effective ministrations of her lips and tongue—had my balls pulling tight then, my orgasm imminent.
Pulling free again, I pumped my cock furiously with my fist. “Open your mouth. Wider! Show me your tongue.”
Her quick, almost eager obedience was the last straw, and I was overcome with pleasure, my climax surging up from behind my balls, my vision going white. I groaned as my cum leapt forth, coating her tongue, her chin, draping down from her lips. I pumped the last pulses of semen out upon her cheeks, cursing under my breath at the exquisite sensitivity of the head of my cock.
Despite that insane level of stimulation, I kept a firm grip of her hair, carefully using the head of my cock to gather up the cum her tongue could reach, then forcing her to lick it carefully off before I returned for still more from elsewhere on her face. I kept up with this until I’d gotten all of it.
“Therewe go. That’s where my cum belongs—in your belly.” I twisted her hair in my fist, and she arched, whimpering slightly as her chin tilted up. “Now, say it back to me.”
“Your cum…belongs…in my belly.” Her gaze flashed when she said it though, and she shook herself free from my grip.
The magic had finally been dispelled.
She rose to her feet, quickly tucking her breasts back inside the sports bra. She tugged her shirt into place. “Like you said, Nick.” She wiped a last sheen of semen from the corner of her mouth, licking it from her fingertip. “Time’s up.”
Then she stepped off the cobblestone pad, starting back toward the trail. She buttoned her shorts again as she went, not looking back at me one time.
The gauntlet’s been thrown.
I shook my head, grunting as I gazed out across Diamond Ridge Gorge.
Whichever way I thought things were going to go…Eva had no intention of making it easy.
Chapter 9
Thursday
Eva
“Ow.” I winced as I unlatched my seat belt, the clasp brushing against my right breast. Though I thought after the encounter in the park Nick probably had left my boobs covered in bruises, thankfully, I’d only found a few faded marks here and there upon their pale curves.
But they were mostdefinitelystill tender.
Though I’d taken off my belt, I sat in the car for a minute, trying to deal with the fact that this was perhaps the most surreal moment yet since I’d come back into town.
A return to the house.
The lawn was just as immaculate, the emerald-green blades cut perfectly, as it always had been. Nick took great pride in his landscaping skills, and I would have been a liar if I’d said I didn’t like the results. I always had.
Raindrops pattered against the windshield continuously, one of them meandering now and then down the glass, only to dissipate against the wiper blades. The day outside was overcast, rainy, surprisingly chilly for so late in the spring.
The dour weather was a fitting accompaniment to my mood. But it wasn’t just my mood that had me second-guessing things, that had me wondering for the hundredth time what the hell I was still doing here.
No, that was no longer most prominent in my mind. What was, was the fact that far from answering anything—or resolving anything—this trip thus far had only introduced more questions, more uncertainties, and increasingly, a nagging sense that there was something else going on here, an undercurrent that I could sense, but could not see.
That morning as I’d gotten ready in the hotel room, quickly deciding what to wear, I’d gone over it in my head once again. Trying to figure out if there was something that I’d missed. An important detail. A wrinkle to the arrangement that might unlock the increasing sense of uneasiness I felt.
There was more to it than that, of course, but at this point in the week, now more than halfway through, well, I was a little more inclined to the possibility of seeing things through, even if I felt a little off balance—and more than a little conflicted about it.
“You’re overthinking this again, Eva. Just go inside and talk to him.” As if it was going to be anything in the same zip code of that simple. I knew better. Even at that moment, butterflies began fluttering in my belly, the imagery from the day before playing in my head once again. Nick had never, not once, been anything like he was with me at Diamond Ridge Park. The fact was I still didn’t know what to think of it, whether I should be mad, or hurt, or embarrassed. What did it mean if it was all of those? The worst part about it was that it had…aroused me. A lot. Much more than I wanted to think about.
Opening the door, squinting against the cold, misty rain against my face, I was grateful I’d chosen the warm wrap sweater, the light jacket over it something I never expected to need on the trip. I pulled the hood up over my head, keeping the rain off my hair, which I was embarrassed to admit I’d spent much longer doing that morning than was probably necessary. It was only Nick, after all.
Still, I needed to feel confident. That I still had the fortitude to see this through. Looking my best was one of the simplest ways in which to achieve that.
