I lift her against me and drag us to the bank. I lower her down and press on top of her, bare chests rubbing. She pushes down her bikini bottoms and I yank them the rest of the way, then free myself from the stifling constraints of my trunks. Her thighs spread wide when I push against them with my hips. Gripping my cock, I drag the head through her folds, feeling her heat, wanting to thrust and grind and ride her until we both lose our minds.
Jesus, it’s never felt like this. So fucking urgent. So desperate.
I push inside her—just the tip—and her muscles clench around me greedily. She’s so fucking warm . . . slick and snug. Too warm.
I look into her eyes. “I don’t have anything, Sofia.”
A whole box of wonderful condoms is back at the house, in my room. Shit.
She shakes her head, her voice high and breathless. “I don’t care.”
I grow stiffer with the thought of screwing her raw. Illicit, decadent images flash behind my eyes, telling me it doesn’t matter. Urging me to just push, thrust, fuck.
I drag my nails up her thigh gently. “I’ll pull out,” I rasp. Promise. “I want to see my come on you.” I slide my hand up her stomach, across her breasts. “Here. Glistening on this perfect fucking skin.”
She nods with a whimper, pulling me down to her. Lifting her legs, making me slip further inside.
I thrust hard—and stop. Sinking into the sensation of her wrapped so tight around me, filling her completely without anything between us. I don’t remember the last time I was inside a woman bare—but that’s not what makes it different.
It’s beautiful. Intense.
But only because it’s her.
I drag out slowly. She arches her back, rubbing against me. And I push back inside her, groaning and grasping. I let go, fucking her without an ounce of restraint, inching us up the bank, rocking her breasts with every thrust of my hips.
I pull on her shoulders and she clasps my head, holding me as her tongue plunders my mouth. Her lips slant across my jaw, biting, and she comes with a muffled scream against my skin. I feel her contract, squeezing so tight it borders on painful. The best kind of pain.
When her muscles relax I push into her again, feeling the tension coiling in my stomach. Electric tendrils spark up my thighs, and at the last possible moment I pull out and rise to my knees. I move my fist up my length, and Sofia watches with rapt eyes. She covers my hands with her own, helping me get there.
The sound of my rushing blood crests in my eardrums and I come in hot, forceful spurts. She moans with me as my orgasm paints her breasts in gleaming splashes that go on and on.
With a final groan I collapse on top of her, both of us panting, chasing our breath. She cradles me against her neck and my arms come around, pressing her close. And we stay just like that until the sun peeks over the horizon in the east.
And a whole new day is born.
19
Stanton
On Thursday afternoon, Jenny’s sister throws a big party for her and JD at her parents’ house. It’s fancier than a Sunday barbecue, but not as extravagant as a catered affair. The bride-and groom-to-be have foregone bachelor or bachelorette parties—much to Ruby’s displeasure. It seems she was looking forward to giving her little sister the kind of send-off into married life that included fireman strippers and mechanical-bull riding. Obviously, Ruby is unaware of her sister’s kinkier proclivities—and the fact that she already has her very own collection of handcuffs, so the stripper probably would’ve been a letdown.
Being close as they are, my whole family is invited. Walking into their house decorated with bridal-themed streamers and balloons does little to sort out the fuckery in my head right now. I’m still not thrilled about Jenny getting married, but the idea doesn’t make my insides burn with jealousy or panic anymore. I get it now—after last night, after the nothing kiss, I see that Jenny was right. About everything.
Which is exactly why there’s no good reason for her to go confessing things to JD. It’ll just cause problems for nothing. That’s the advice I want to give Jenn—if she’d sit still long enough for me to say it.
“Not now, Stanton.” She walks out of the kitchen with me right behind her. Her mouth is grim, her eyes are weary and dull with remorse. She looks stressed, but what’s worse—she looks guilty.
“Jenny, just give me a second.” But she’s already in the living room, moving among a sea of people—each one nodding and smiling and making conversation. The sky outside is the color of gray smoke, quickly turning to charcoal, so everyone’s inside. In the living room, JD’s eyes light up when Jenny walks into the room. She stops short, gazing at him with an expression I can’t read.
“Don’t say anything, Jenn. Not yet,” I say against her hair.
Ruby walks around the house with a microphone, playing bridal bingo. “Okay y’all, who knows the month and day when JD and Jenny went on their first date? Mark it down on your card.” She leans down toward the tiny, gray-haired Mrs. Fletcher, who’s deaf as a post and yells into the microphone. “The first date, Mrs. Fletcher!”
Mrs. Fletcher nods, then writes down today’s date.
“I’m just gonna be honest,” Jenny says to herself. “The truth will set you free.”