Her eyes flew open and she stared me down. “Fuck you. I want this. I don’t even know why I want this so badly, but I do.”
It was enough for me. Because I needed this—needed to be this close to someone, needed to hear her sighs and moans, needed to feel her heat and softness, needed to release all the tension inside me. I needed it so desperately I couldn’t see straight.
Pushing her back against the tree again, I drove into her, hard and fast and deep. She cried out at the peak of each thrust so loudly I put a hand over her mouth so that anyone within hearing distance wouldn’t think someone was being attacked by an animal.
But I felt animalistic in my desire—almost bloodthirsty. She gasped for air against my hand, her eyes wide and wild. But I felt her tongue stroke my fingers, and when I slipped my thumb into her mouth, she sucked it, licked it, bit it. Every muscle in my body was tight and tingling, and I knew I couldn’t hold out long. I put both hands beneath her again and concentrated with all my might on being less selfish, holding her tight to my body and flexing my hips to give her the best angle, rubbing the base of my cock against her clit. I’d missed this too—making a woman come, feeling that surge of power and pleasure.
“Yes! Just like that,” she cried, her eyes closed. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop…” She dropped her head to my shoulder and sank her teeth into my flesh, one hand fisted in my hair, the other clutching my bicep. Her legs tensed up, her entire body going still, and I pulled her even closer, using my hands to move her in little circles on my cock. Her pussy pulsed rhythmically around me, and I lost control.
I rasped and growled through clenched teeth, my orgasm tearing through me with brutal force. I fucked her barbarically, passionately, like I hated her, like I loved her, like a man completely driven by instinct and not reason or emotion. And when I came, exploding inside her with violent bliss, her face buried in my neck, everything went silent and black.
Stumbling backward, depleted and dizzy, I sank to my knees taking Margot with me. She yelped and clung to my neck like a child, sending me tumbling onto my back in the dirt.
And I laughed.
Sixteen
Margot
I ended up straddling him, my knees in the dirt, my arms around his neck.
He was laughing.
Laughing.
I had to smile. So that’s what it takes? An orgasm?
And speaking of orgasms, my whole body was still humming from the one he’d just given me. I’d never felt anything like it—so deep and intense I couldn’t even move while it happened. And it had happened so fast! I usually had to concentrate pretty hard to come during sex, and certain conditions had to be met for me to relax enough to let it happen. (Total darkness, soft sheets, complete privacy. Also, I didn’t love being on top because it forced me to see a man’s O face, and they were never dignified. It also made me feel sort of like being on display during a vigorous treadmill workout.) But with Jack, it had struck me like lightning.
The reality of what had just happened started to sink in. I’d just been fucked against a tree. By a farmer. Without a condom.
Oh, God.
My sandals were missing. He’d seriously fucked me right out of my Jack Rogers. And tree bark had probably torn up the back of my Lilly Pulitzer shift.
But damn, that was good. Rough. Messy. Frantic.
Totally un-Margot, yet I’d loved every second.
I sat up, laying my hands on his chest and peering down at him. He looked so different. It was dark, but I could see the way his facial muscles had relaxed—no furrow in his brow, no tension in his jaw. His full mouth looked even more sensual, one side of it hooking up in a wry grin.
“That the fight you were looking for?” he asked.
I smiled ruefully. “Not exactly.”
“You were pretty mad.”
“I’m still mad.”
He laughed again, and my toes tingled. I loved the sound of it—deep and warm and gratifying.
“But embarrassed too,” I admitted.
“Why are you embarrassed? I started it.” Some of the tension returned to his face. “Are you OK?”
“I’m fine.”
“We didn’t use anything…”
I pressed my lips into a line. “No, we didn’t. But we’re OK.” I was on the pill, although I’d never had sex without a condom before.
Don’t think about that.
Or with a client.
Don’t think about that either.
“OK.” He took a breath, his chest moving under my palms. His hands were still on my hips. “God, Margot, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Don’t be sorry.” I started to get up, feeling like things were about to get awkward. “Really. It just…happened.”
He helped me to my feet, located my shoes, and while I tugged my panties back into place (they were still looped around one ankle), he did up his jeans. “I guess I just…” He ran a hand through his thick dark hair. “Lost control. It’s been so long.”
“How long?” I asked before I could stop myself. “I’m sorry—you don’t have to tell me that.”