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He was the first to move when Alana discovered she had freedom, but to my surprise, he didn’t follow her out.
I’ve no idea if he was allowing me to do so, or just giving her some space. I really don’t give a shit because right now, the only person I care about is in my arms, giving me everything I’ve spent years dreaming about.
“Fucking hell, Doll,” I groan into our kiss, “I can’t get enough.”
Releasing me, she grips the rail behind her and stretches. Helping her out, I wrap my hands around her waist and lift her. My shoulder pulls, but it’s nowhere near enough to stop me. The moment her ass is perched on the thin strip of wood, her legs part in invitation.
Not needing anything more, I step between them and immediately wrap them around my waist.
Dipping my head, my lips brush her neck, making her shudder.
“Never going to get enough.”
“You don’t have to.” She groans, threading her fingers through my hair before scratching my scalp. “I need more, not less.”
“Jesus.” I hiss, kissing her jaw to find her lips again. “Soon,” I promise.
“I’m right here, Mav. I’m ready,” she begs, grinding the scorching heat of her pussy against my hard-on.
“I know. Fuck. Trust me, I know.”
“So what are you waiting for? I don’t need soft and gentle. This isn’t my first time.”
“Maybe not, but it’s our first time,” I say, sounding like a fucking pussy. “And it’s not happening with you perched on the railing of Reid Harris’s deck.”
“God,” she moans, her head falling back as I hit the right spot, “but it would be so hot.”
“One day,” I promise. “But not today.”
“Mav.” She moans.
“Trust me, Doll.”
Her eyes find mine. They’re dilated and full of emotion.
“Always,” she promises, before wrapping her hand around the back of my neck and dragging my lips back to hers.
I kiss her almost hard enough to drown out the little voice in my head that says I’m a fucking idiot to turn down a chance of sliding inside her.
But I know I’m right.
What we have… it’s more than a quickie against the railing. It deserves more than that.
* * *
Time ceases to exist as we continue making out, the skies turning dark around us, the wind picking up and rushing over our heated skin.
But I can’t stop. My addiction to her knows no bounds, and it seems she might just feel the same. Fuck, I hope so. We’re all lips, teeth, tongues, hands. Dirty, wet kisses and teasing caresses. It’s everything. Every-fucking-thing.
Until there is a loud crash from somewhere behind us.
“What was that?” Alana asks, startled, effectively ripping our lips apart.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, unwilling to put much thought into it when I have her in my arms.
“MOTHERFUCKER,” echoes loudly from the house before another crash.
“Shit, we should—"
