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“Fenway, please,” I cried, hips rocking back against him.
A low, growling noise escaped him, his hand leaving my throat as his hips shifted back, his hand freeing himself.
I heard the crinkle of a condom foil, and with my head resting against his shoulder, I could see him raise it up, nip the edge.
Anticipation was a live-wire in my system as he reached between us, protected us, before his hands were on me again, one slipping between my legs, pressing against my clit as my legs parted slightly, my ass arching back and up, begging for an end to the torment.
Luckily, Fenway didn’t seem to have much self-control left either, his cock sliding between my thighs, pressing against me for a moment before sliding inside, long and thick as I had expected, filling me completely.
There was one solid moment of nothing, just silent acknowledgment of this singularly perfect moment before the need for release overtook everything else.
Fenway’s free hand gathered my hair, wrapping it around his fist, yanking it to the side, exposing my neck, his lips and teeth claiming the sensitive skin as he started to thrust.
Hard.
And deep.
But not fast.
Dragging it out.
The pressure built deep, working outward until it overtook me completely.
His cock buried deep.
His finger swiped.
And I simply shattered.
Shards of me flew in every direction, leaving nothing behind but a strangled cry, a wave of pleasure so acute it was almost painful.
A growl escaped Fenway as my walls squeezed him through the orgasm.
But he wasn’t done with me.
He hadn’t come with me.
I came back together, gasping for breath, body trembling, only to have Fenway pull out of me, turn me, and press me back against the cave wall, the moss cool and soft against my back as his hand reached downward, hooking my knee, dragging it up high before slamming inside me.
After an orgasm like that, I was sure I was done, that my body wouldn’t be able to take anymore.
Apparently, I didn’t know myself as well as I thought, because as Fenway started to thrust—harder, faster—I could feel the desire rekindled, the aching need for fulfillment renewed.
He drove me up fast, pushing me to the edge, then tossing me over, but this time, he fell with me, both of us crashing at the same time, bodies sinking into each other as we struggled to find breath, to find strength in our gelatinous limbs.
I wasn’t sure how long we stayed like that before we finally broke away, Fenway stooping to retrieve his pants as I tried to talk my body into cooperating with any sort of movement.
“What are you doing?” I asked, watching as he produced a plastic baggy from his back pocket. Where the hell had he even found plastic baggies?
“I hate to be a discourteous guest,” he told me, tying off the condom, slipping it into the bag, sealing that, then tucking it back into his shorts.
“Why did you bring baggies?” I asked, shaking my head.
“Well, I knew I would need one for my phone,” he told me, finding another baggy, slipping his cell inside it, sealing it, then tucking it into his other back pant pocket.
“Why would you need it for your phone?” I asked as he reached for his shirt, then my dress, my panties.
I thought to hand them to me so we could both dress and head out.
I really should have known better.
“Well, of course I would need one for my phone,” he told me, walking over to the cave opening, dangerously close to the edge, in fact. “Otherwise, it would never survive this,” he told me balling up our clothes.
I realized his intention a second too late.
As they seemed to hover in the air in slow motion before falling.
“No!” I shrieked, heart dropping. “Why would you do that? I am pretty cool with all of this,” I said, gesturing to my naked body, “but not cool enough to walk back through this park and up to the driver of your car stark freaking naked, Fenway.”
“Luckily, my darling, that won’t be necessary,” he assured me, reaching for my hand, pulling me forward toward the opening of the cave, the water slicking my body with spray.
“Fenway, no,” I said, trying to plant my heels, but there was no use.
He was determined.
The ground was slippery.
And, quite frankly, I didn’t actually want to fight him anyway.
“Oh, darling, yes,” he told me, face triumphant. And, God, it was a good look. So good, in fact, that my lips curved up with him, anticipation fluttering through my belly.
“Have you ever done this before?” I asked, leaning forward slightly, trying to see if there were any jutting rocks we needed to be worried about.
“Nope.”
“Do you know if it is safe?”
“Nope,” he said, smiling wider.
“That is a hell of a risk.”
“Oh, come on now, darling, you’re not scared of anything.”
He was right.
