Page 90 of This Broken Heart
“A view like that never gets old.”
He pulls down a dirt lane, bumping across rough tractor tracks and snow, before throwing the truck into park. We’re sitting over a little pasture. A pond rests at the bottom of the basin, its frozen surface bounces moonlight back like a mirror.
“What’d you think of the party?”
“It was fun.”
“You certainly had plenty of admirers.”
“Who did? I did?”
“Yes, you.” He chuckles. “You couldn’t feel all those eyes on you tonight?”
“I felt yours.”
I feel them now, the weight of his gaze. The heat.
Even in the dark, I can feel that.
He reaches over, fingers brushing my hips as he unbuckles my seatbelt. Then he’s pulling me across the bench until we’re thigh to thigh.
“If I didn’t say so,” He brushes a lock of hair away from my face. “You look beautiful tonight.”
He saves me from having to respond, from deflecting, by brushing his lips across mine.
I can smell the hint of whiskey on his breath. I don’t like to drink it myself, but on him, it’s pretty enticing. My tongue slips across his lips, checking for traces of whatever he was drinking.
His tongue meets mine, caressing mine, sweeping past my lips. He’s good at this. He knows how to possess my body, occupy my thoughts.
His hand glides along my neck. Cupping the back of my head, he angles it back, delving deeper. He overpowers me and I am here for it. With a soft groan, he pulls me onto his lap. I’m straddling his thighs, my back pressed up against the steering wheel—caged in.
He breaks our kiss, pulling back to study my body. I want to shrink, but he’s holding me up, looking at me with such admiration, I can almost believe what his eyes are telling me.
In this moment, for this night, I feel beautiful.
His fingers trace the neckline of my jumper, roughly pushing the crossover top to either side. My lace bra is exposed and his fingers glide across the curve of my breasts. He bends forward, his breath soft and warm, then he’s kissing my skin, breathing me in.
I let my fingers weave through his short hair, fingernails scratching gently at his scalp.
He charts a path across my breast, along my collarbone and up the slope of my neck. I can feel heat building in my core, buoyed up by the growing bulge in his jeans.
I slip off his lap, dragging the zipper down on his jeans. He lifts his hips so that I can pull his jeans down a bit, before tugging his half-erect cock out of his boxers.
Even like this, it’s impressive. I squeeze it, enjoying the way soft flesh slowly hardens under my grip. When I lower my head, taking him between my lips, he lets out a soft hiss. His hands work at my ponytail, gently loosening my hair. He plays with my hair, while I stroke him with my tongue and my hands.
“Fuck, baby.” He murmurs. “That mouth is driving me crazy.”
I pull back, slowly stroking his shaft. “I can’t stop thinking about the last time.” My fingers trace the veins on his hard member. “This cock has been haunting my dreams.”
“Tell me what you want.”
I meet his gaze, hungry and a little wild. “I want you to fuck me silly.”
He sucks in a little breath, before half turning, leaning into the back of the truck. With a practiced tug, he flips the back seat upright, unrolling the sleeping bag he keeps in there for winter emergencies.
I guess this would qualify.
And then he’s climbing over the seat, taking my hand to help me clamber over the edge. I’m not nearly as graceful as him, tumbling into him with a little laugh.