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“Clem.” Duke chokes out my name, then hooks his thick fingers inside my shorts waistband. He wrestles those down my legs, underwear too, until I’m buck naked in his backyard.
The trees block the neighbors’ view, thank god, and Meg promised not to look out the window.
Still, I’m shy as I pluck at Duke’s t-shirt. Biting on my bottom lip, torn between covering myself up and squirming. “Will you touch me?”
His lungs empty out. “Yeah.”
Blunt fingers skate along my seam. They dip a fraction past my entrance; they swirl through my slickness and rub at my clit. My hips buck up and I moan like a harlot, every nerve ending in my body sparking to life.
So sensitive. The warm evening breeze, wafting over my nipples; the gritty stone at my back. I feel it all.
I yank on his t-shirt again. “Take this off. Duke, please.”
He shucks his clothes too, and then we’re both bare, naked together in our own private Eden.
Duke kneels between my legs, touching me again. Teasing me, working me open. Doing all the stuff we were too impatient for before.
I hiccup a moan when he takes my breast. Squeezes it, thumbs my nipple. God, he touches me like heownsme already, and I love it. I’m all his.
That thick cock bobs in the air between us, and I stare at it in the dying light. Widen my legs and tilt my hips up in offering.
“We doing this, baby?”
Duke shifts forward, his shaft in one fist. He lines us up, his other hand spread over the tiles by my head.
“You’d better.” Else I’ll lose my damn mind. We’ve already come so close once before; already nearly claimed each other, then backed away at the last second. I’m dying here.
When he looms over me, the curve of his hard belly brushes against my thighs. Something about that—the solidness of him, his furry chest, his manly smell, his beard—makes me wetter than a slip ’n slide.
“Oh god.” He breaches me slowly at first: slow and thick. I gulp down muggy summer air, tugging on the hair at my temples. My head rocks back and forth on the stone. “Oh my god, Duke. So good. So good.”
“Yep,” he says, deep voice strained, and sinks another inch. “Yeah. It’s real good.”
And damn, he’s never been a poet, but his whole stoic manly thing warms my heart so much right now. I beam up at him, wiggling my hips so he sinks a couple more inches.
Oof.
It burns a little. He’s stretching me wide, testing my untried body, and when I push up onto my elbows to watch us join, bringing our faces closer, my mouth goes dry. How the hell am I takingthat? It’s a monster! Where am I even putting it?
“My organs must be mushed up in my armpit or something.”
Duke rumbles a pained laugh, then cuts off with a cough. “Shit, don’t make me laugh, Clementine. I’m hanging by a thread here.”
“Well, I’m getting skewered by a tree trunk. Fair’s fair.”
He shakes his head, shoulders trembling. And when I lunge up to kiss him, to nibble on his bottom lip, he snaps—and pushes even deeper with a groan. His tense body relaxes, then it’s done. He’s all the way in.
…Out.
And in.
He’s not thrusting, exactly, just easing things. Rocking our bodies together, so patient, while I remember how to breathe again, and all the while I’m surrounded by his heat and scent and tickly hairs.
It’s the best.
“Don’t you dare change your mind after this,” I tell him, kissing his cheek, his beard, his neck. We’re rocking harder, grinding together deep and slow. The stone digs into my back, and it’s getting darker, harder to see, but I don’t care. “You can’t give me this and then take it away again. Okay, mister? I need this now. Need it to survive.”
I’m exaggerating, I know I am, but in this moment… well, in this moment, itfeelstrue. Like our bodies are joined in some vital, primal way, and pulling apart would be a serious injury. Like for the rest of my life, this is a basic need.
