Love to Love Her YAC (24 page)

Blake scoots toward me across the bench seat
and nudges my legs apart. He lifts my left foot onto the seat and
slides forward until his hips are resting against mine. “I’ve been
waiting a long time to do this,” he murmurs as he leans forward. He
pushes his mouth against mine, covering my lips before slowly
opening our kiss with a gentle prodding of his tongue. My fingers
circle his biceps, pulling him closer. Suddenly the kiss grows more
fevered, and Blake’s right hand gropes my breast while his left
curves around my face, angling my head toward his. He scoots
forward another inch or two and twists so his dick makes contact
with my crotch. His hands squeeze at my waist and begin to slide
upward against my bare skin, pushing my shirt up until it’s bunched
around my chest. He pauses, panting, as if he’s waiting for
permission, then tugs my shirt the rest of the way off.

“I want to see you,” he whispers. He reaches
back across the steering column to fumble with the buttons until
the faint yellow dome light comes on, and when he turns back to
face me he inhales sharply before a look of adoration passes over
his face. I’m glad I happen to be wearing my sexiest bra tonight—a
watery blue satin balconnette that scoops beneath my breasts, with
black lace fringe that just barely covers my nipples. He presses
forward, but I resist him, my hands pushing against his shoulders.
He leans back and, sensing what it is I want, reaches behind his
head and jerks off his own shirt. I stare unabashedly at the way
his stomach muscles flex as he executes this move.

His fingers stroke over the thin fabric of my
bra, and he lowers his head as he tugs aside the lace to flick his
tongue against my nipple. I’m momentarily immobilized in rapture,
but then I claw at the button on his pants and yank down on his
zipper. I plunge my hand inside his boxers, and his mouth stills as
he sucks in a deep breath. “
Oh God,
” he mutters before using
his hand to guide mine deeper inside his pants. I wrap my thumb and
forefinger around the base of his cock while using my other three
fingers to fondle his balls. He slams his hips forward, then
suddenly snaps around and tugs at his pants until they’re around
his knees. He takes himself in his hand, stroking upward once
before turning his attention back to me – it’s one of the most
erotic things I’ve ever witnessed.

I unfasten my jeans, and he rips them from my
body as I struggle to breathe properly. He licks two of his fingers
before pushing aside the blue silk of my panties and driving his
fingers inside of me. My back arches off the seat as I rock
forward, thrusting into him. I whimper as he withdraws his hand
then grabs my hips and forces me to straddle him the way I had at
the park. I sit facing him with his engorged dick between us, my
fingers kneading circles into his shoulders as I struggle to
control my breathing.
It’s been so long…

“Blake,” I whisper.

“Yeah, baby,” he says, kissing my temple as
he squeezes my waist.

“I want this. I want you.”

“
Christ,
yes. I want you, too,” he
pants. He pushes on his cock, directing it toward my opening, but
then stops. “In the glove compartment,” he chokes out, his tone
urgent. “Condom.”

Understanding dawns; quickly I twist around
and grope at the latch, and it falls open, papers and pens toppling
to the floor. I fish around in the dark compartment until my
fingers close around something crinkly and plastic. I pull out the
condom—Trojan Magnum,
hello!
—and use my teeth to rip the
package open. Meanwhile, Blake toils to pull his pants the rest of
the way off. He holds his red, swollen shaft at the base and looks
up at me. “Do you want me to do it?” he asks.

“No, I want to do it,” I tell him. I open my
mouth and let a string of saliva pool in the palm of my hand while
he looks at me, neediness flaming in his bright green eyes. I close
my fingers around his head and glide my wet hand up and down his
cock. He bites his lip as he watches me, his hips straining closer
as if he can’t wait to fuck me.

I cover his tip with the condom and take my
time rolling it down the shaft until I reach the base. He closes
his eyes and breathes in through gritted teeth, the muscles in his
jaw clenched in restraint, his hands fisted beside him.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he lifts his hands
to hold my face between his palms. He touches his forehead to mine
and says, “I’ll try to move slow, okay? It’ll be fucking hard as
hell, but I’m gonna try.” I nod, and with that he turns and pushes
me back against the bench seat, using his hand to spread my legs
further. My heart pounds at an alarming rate, threatening to
clatter out of my ribcage, for the split second before he –
finally
– thrusts inside me. I cry out as my insides stretch
to accommodate his girth. As soon as his cock is all the way in,
Blake pauses. His head falls forward, and his shoulders rise and
fall in sync with his labored breathing. He’s biting his lip so
hard I’m afraid he might draw blood. “Fucking hell, you’re so
tight,” he hisses.

A moment later he begins to move, drawing out
fractionally before thrusting gently back in. He repeats this
motion, pulling out farther and thrusting deeper with each
repetition, braced above me in pushup stance. Gradually the
discomfort eases, and a tingling warmth floods in to take its
place. I bite down on the corner of my lip as I exhale a tattered
breath.

Eventually Blake lowers himself so he’s
directly on top of me, the skin of his defined chest pressing
against my own bare skin. He covers my neck in hectic kisses while
maintaining the steady drilling of his hips. “I wanna go faster,”
he whispers. “…But only if you want me to.”

“Yes, Blake, please. Faster,” I say. He moans
and slams deeper inside of me. Another surge of fiery, delicious
pain spikes through me, knocking the breath from my lungs. I
constrict my legs tighter around his waist, and this causes him to
move even faster, his hips crashing into me again and again at
breakneck speed. A flame catches somewhere deep inside me and
begins a slow burn that evolves into a blazing inferno as Blake
repeatedly stokes it. We’re both blanketed in a fine layer of
perspiration despite the coolness inside the cab, and the windows
have fogged up, completely obscuring the outside shadows. The frame
of the truck rocks around and beneath us, and somewhere in my
scrambled brain I’m aware of our surroundings and hopeful we won’t
wake anyone.

“God, Rhiannon,” Blake utters. “I’m so
close…”

Knowing Blake is nearing his climax causes
something to break loose. Without any warning, the firestorm raging
inside of me reaches new heights, icy flames shooting along every
solitary nerve fiber in my body. The intensity is beyond
description – it leaves me shivering and breathless, and I’m so
consumed with my own personal Nirvana I almost miss Blake’s orgasm.
His face contorts into a mixture of fury and pain and ecstasy as he
releases inside me, and I’m dumbfounded by his gorgeousness and the
glistening of his sweat slicked against his lean muscles.

Blake – 10:15 PM

I
can’t remember the
last time I felt this content or this peaceful. I sit with my back
against the passenger side door, and Rhiannon sits opposite me in
just her panties and shirt (I made a bid to keep her bra, and she
hesitantly agreed). I ache to hold her closer, but we’re both still
overheated from the exchange that just occurred – the most
passionate sex I’ve ever had. The anticipation leading up to it,
the weeks of building tension and mounting desire, undoubtedly
played into its mind-blowing intensity.

I hold her small feet in my lap, massaging
circles into her soles while she leans her head back against the
clouded window. Her feet look like they could belong to a ballet
dancer – her toes, the nails painted red, are pointed, and her
arches are exceedingly high. She watches me, emitting an occasional
approving whimper, while she worries her swollen lower lip with her
teeth. She looks introspective, almost wistful.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask.

She heaves a sigh, flexing her foot in my lap
and wiggling her toes. “Just thinking…” she trails off. I wait as
she gathers her thoughts.

“Is this…what you wanted?” she asks finally.
“I mean, was it…any good?”

I stop rubbing.
Is she asking me if I
liked having sex with her?
Her forehead creases with concern,
and I realize I’d better quit gawking and answer the question
before she jumps to the wrong conclusion.

I grip her calf, as far up her leg as I can
reach. “It wasn’t just
good
,” I say, hoping to convey the
utter truthfulness of the statement by effecting a tone of
sincerity. “It was…it was
amazing
.
You
were amazing.
Everything about it was fucking perfect.”

A pink blush rises to her fair cheeks. She
clears her throat as she nods in agreement. “I should probably tell
you…I’ve never had an orgasm during sex before.”

I can’t help the shit-eating grin that
unfolds across my face. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. It was pretty incredible,
Blake.”

I don’t waste any time crawling over her and
gathering her in my arms, my heart bursting with unqualified
happiness. I’m surprised when she begins to lightly chuckle.

“What?”

“So much for not having our first time be in
your truck.”

I laugh. “Dammit, you’re right – I promise
I’ll make it up to you.”

Rhiannon – 7:00 AM

T
awny is still
snoring and drooling on her pillowcase when I wake up grinning like
an idiot. In my muddled, half-awake state, the reason for my sense
of euphoria isn’t immediately apparent, but within a matter of
seconds snatches of conversation begin to drift back to me,
followed by visions of sweat-soaked skin and the phantom tingle of
something amazing between my legs. Actually, now that I’m thinking
about it…
Christ
I’m sore. Clearly it had been a while.

I’m surprised by the earliness of the hour
when I glance at my watch. I lie there on my side for a few
minutes, wondering whether Blake might be awake. My mouth goes dry
just thinking about him being in the next room.
How on earth did
I ever get myself to break away from him last night?
I wonder.
It had been so tempting to follow him into my old room, even if it
was just to fall asleep with him holding me.

At a quarter after, I roll off the air
mattress and quietly slip out into the hall, letting the door latch
behind me. There don’t seem to be any signs of stirring in the rest
of the house. I tiptoe down the hallway to the bathroom and push
the door shut behind me. I pee, then splash water on my face. I
drag my wet fingers through my hair to untangle it as I inspect my
form in the mirror. I’m dressed in my typical sleeping apparel—a
pair of underwear and a loose fitting t-shirt. I smile, looking and
feeling more content than I have in a long time.

I look out the window at the sun making its
ascent across the peach colored sky and suddenly an idea dawns on
me. I open the door and creep back down the hall, but turn the knob
on the right door instead of the left this time. I quietly push it
open and see Blake lying awake on the folded out futon, his hands
clasped behind his head as he looks up at the ceiling. He’s
uncovered from the waist up, his muscles taut beneath his smooth,
tanned skin.

He starts when the door clicks shut softly
behind me, twisting to see who might be intruding. “You’re awake,”
I say quietly.

“I barely slept,” he says, his lips curled
into a small smile. He turns onto his side and props his head in
his hand as he looks at me. “Is that what you wore to bed?”

I glance down and back up, nodding. His smile
broadens, causing his eyes to crinkle and my insides to turn to
mush. “Come here,” he says. He unwinds the sheet wrapped around his
waist and holds it aloft, flashing me a vision of his boxer-clad
hips and bare legs as he beckons for me to join him beneath the
covers.

I hesitate, unsure whether this is a good
idea. “I don’t bite,” he assures me, one eyebrow lifted at my
obvious reluctance. I go to him, crowding in beside him on the
narrow mattress—I always was a sucker for a good looking man, and
Blake is better looking by far than anyone else who’s ever invited
me to join him in bed.

I turn away and arch my hips into him,
breathing in sharply when I feel his erection pressed against my
back. He grips my waist and guides my butt down toward the base of
the rigid thickness, dropping kisses on the back of my neck and
inside my ear. “How are you feeling this morning?” he asks. “Does
it hurt at all?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” I reassure him. “A little
sore maybe, but in a good way.”

“Good,” he murmurs. His hands skim up my
thighs and brush against my waist. “Is this what you always look
like when you wake up in the morning?” he asks. His breath is warm,
his voice coarse. Excitement thrums through me as every drop of
blood in my body forgets what it had been about to do and instead
embarks on the journey toward my pelvic region.

“What do you mean?” I ask, struggling to keep
my voice even as he grinds against me ever so slightly and runs the
tip of his tongue along my earlobe.

Instead of answering me he flips me around to
face him, and his lips push hungrily against mine, parting them
with his warm tongue. He rolls over on top of me, bracing himself
on his forearms as he lowers the full length of his body to cover
mine. My hands tangle in his hair, and I suck his lower lip into my
mouth, nibbling lightly as his throat vibrates with the eruption of
a soft growl.