waves.
This was some wanton creature Paula did not recognize. It couldn’t be she, undulating her hips against his hardening erection, arching her back to give him greater access to her aching breasts, her flat stomach, and lower.
She’d been so lonely since Nick had left. Yesterday’s lovemaking in the shower had only whetted a hunger she’d thought long dead. That was the only excuse for her body’s betrayal.
Determined male hands bunched the fabric of her skirt in gathering fists, lifting the hem higher and higher, up to the sides of her bikini panties. Then, in one hard jerk, they ripped away both sides of her underpants. The silky fabric fell to the ground, exposing her still widespread legs to exploring fingers.
One hand moved back up to her breasts, fingering them lightly. The other hand found her wet heat.
“My God!” he exclaimed behind her, his lips pressed against the pulse beat in her neck. Then, “Sweet. Oh, baby, you are so sweet.”
She almost fainted. Then she bucked back against him, trying to break free, to no avail.
He nipped her shoulder with his teeth, asserting his controlled aggression.
She pressed her forehead against the car roof, barely able to stand as his expert fingers found her pleasure points and played a tortuous game of fluttery music.
Just then she heard a car motor approaching.
“Holy hell! Don’t move,” he ordered, shielding her body with his own as the pickup truck slowed, then continued down the highway past them.
Paula barely noticed. And yelling for help was the last thing on her mind.
She started to look back at him over her shoulder.
The rasp of a zipper stopped her.
Then her hips were being lifted and tilted backward into the cradle of a hard male body. Her sandaled feet barely touched the road.
In one long stroke, he entered her, and Paula couldn’t suppress the keen of pure ecstasy. Her body welcomed him with rippling convulsions that seemed to make him grow inside her, harder and thicker, filling her to excess. And more.
He moaned low in his throat. A raw, savage noise.
When her first climax passed, he lifted her hips higher, penetrating her even deeper. Then he began to move. Long, slow thrusts, accompanied by seductive murmurs. Forbidden words. Scandalous thoughts. Fantasies, imagined but never spoken aloud.
“Do you like that, sweetheart?”
“Oh . . . oh, yes!”
“And that?”
“Please . . .”
“Can I touch you there?”
She put a restraining hand on his wrist, shocked, then lifted it in sweet, reckless surrender.
“Would you like to be handcuffed?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You’re my prisoner.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t escape.”
“I know.”
“You have to do what I say. Everything.”
Hot, sensual images flashed through her mind. Wicked. Dark. Taboo. She licked her lips. “And if I don’t?”
“I’ll stop. Do you want me to stop?”
“Never.”
When his strokes turned short and hard, Paula became mindless, incapable of thought or talk. A hot tide of molten sensation engulfed her. She fought her orgasm, and raced toward it, out of control.
The twilight air resonated with the sounds of crickets from the nearby woods, and heavy breathing. His and hers. Melded. In rhythm.
When the final climax came—a shattering explosion of the senses—he drew back one last time and slammed into her, his thighs braced rigid with tension, the sinews of his arms roped with muscles. They cried out their release together and gasped for breath as her searing sheath continued to caress him with smaller and smaller spasms until, whimpering, she could bear no more. And he wilted with the intensity of his release.
Softly, he kissed the back of her neck.
After a long moment, he pulled out of her and let her feet slide to the ground. But his arms continued to hold her from behind, one around her waist, the other gently stroking her arms and shoulders and hair. She could feel his heart thudding wildly against her
This was some wanton creature Paula did not recognize. It couldn’t be she, undulating her hips against his hardening erection, arching her back to give him greater access to her aching breasts, her flat stomach, and lower.
She’d been so lonely since Nick had left. Yesterday’s lovemaking in the shower had only whetted a hunger she’d thought long dead. That was the only excuse for her body’s betrayal.
Determined male hands bunched the fabric of her skirt in gathering fists, lifting the hem higher and higher, up to the sides of her bikini panties. Then, in one hard jerk, they ripped away both sides of her underpants. The silky fabric fell to the ground, exposing her still widespread legs to exploring fingers.
One hand moved back up to her breasts, fingering them lightly. The other hand found her wet heat.
“My God!” he exclaimed behind her, his lips pressed against the pulse beat in her neck. Then, “Sweet. Oh, baby, you are so sweet.”
She almost fainted. Then she bucked back against him, trying to break free, to no avail.
He nipped her shoulder with his teeth, asserting his controlled aggression.
She pressed her forehead against the car roof, barely able to stand as his expert fingers found her pleasure points and played a tortuous game of fluttery music.
Just then she heard a car motor approaching.
“Holy hell! Don’t move,” he ordered, shielding her body with his own as the pickup truck slowed, then continued down the highway past them.
Paula barely noticed. And yelling for help was the last thing on her mind.
She started to look back at him over her shoulder.
The rasp of a zipper stopped her.
Then her hips were being lifted and tilted backward into the cradle of a hard male body. Her sandaled feet barely touched the road.
In one long stroke, he entered her, and Paula couldn’t suppress the keen of pure ecstasy. Her body welcomed him with rippling convulsions that seemed to make him grow inside her, harder and thicker, filling her to excess. And more.
He moaned low in his throat. A raw, savage noise.
When her first climax passed, he lifted her hips higher, penetrating her even deeper. Then he began to move. Long, slow thrusts, accompanied by seductive murmurs. Forbidden words. Scandalous thoughts. Fantasies, imagined but never spoken aloud.
“Do you like that, sweetheart?”
“Oh . . . oh, yes!”
“And that?”
“Please . . .”
“Can I touch you there?”
She put a restraining hand on his wrist, shocked, then lifted it in sweet, reckless surrender.
“Would you like to be handcuffed?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You’re my prisoner.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t escape.”
“I know.”
“You have to do what I say. Everything.”
Hot, sensual images flashed through her mind. Wicked. Dark. Taboo. She licked her lips. “And if I don’t?”
“I’ll stop. Do you want me to stop?”
“Never.”
When his strokes turned short and hard, Paula became mindless, incapable of thought or talk. A hot tide of molten sensation engulfed her. She fought her orgasm, and raced toward it, out of control.
The twilight air resonated with the sounds of crickets from the nearby woods, and heavy breathing. His and hers. Melded. In rhythm.
When the final climax came—a shattering explosion of the senses—he drew back one last time and slammed into her, his thighs braced rigid with tension, the sinews of his arms roped with muscles. They cried out their release together and gasped for breath as her searing sheath continued to caress him with smaller and smaller spasms until, whimpering, she could bear no more. And he wilted with the intensity of his release.
Softly, he kissed the back of her neck.
After a long moment, he pulled out of her and let her feet slide to the ground. But his arms continued to hold her from behind, one around her waist, the other gently stroking her arms and shoulders and hair. She could feel his heart thudding wildly against her
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