Page 27 of The Pucking Grump

Maybe even to taste him.

Flame rises up my cheeks. I don’t know how Blake manages to bring out this side of me, a part of me that I didn’t even know existed. I can’t say I dislike it.

And I want to find out more.

He lets out another groan. But just before I can get to his zipper, his callused palm closes over my hand.

“Wait,” he mutters.

I look up at him, disappointment welling up inside me. He’s about to stop this, surely, maybe to say something so disrespectful that I consider leaving again.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls over the nearest chair, settling in it and placing me on top of him so my back is up against his chest. My throat tightens. I haven’t been this close to him except when he carried me over that bridge, and for the first time, I can tell how much bigger he is. His bulk is so great I don’t need to settle on both his thighs to sit comfortably.

“I’ve imagined touching you in so many ways since I first saw you.” His breath, heavy on the back of my neck, causes tingles to run down my spine. “And in every one of those fantasies, it started like this.”

His hands are on my waist now, but this time, his fingers are slipping between the waistband of my pajamas and my skin, stretching the fabric slightly as though to test its elasticity.

“Tell me you’re not wearing panties,” he mutters.

“I’m not.” The words slip out too quickly. I’m that desperate to please him.

Another groan. He grabs as much of the fabric as he can take and shoves it down my legs. In one smooth motion, my pajamas are gathered around my ankles. I kick them off.

I’m now butt naked and sitting on Blake’s lap.

I’m so wet that I can feeling it dripping onto Blake’s pants. I should be curling in with embarrassment, but a crazy thought takes hold of me.

Raising my body an inch from his, I push backward so I can plant myself where his dick is. He’s still clothed but steel hard, and I start to pant the moment I brush up against him. But then I start to slip downward again, and I pull myself up, causing shocks of pleasure to travel past my clitoris.

“Fuck.” Blake’s hands are going up my waist, slipping under my shirt and grabbing my breasts. My throat closes up as he starts to explore them recklessly, fondling as though he has always had access to my body. “When you move like that, it makes me wonder what it’ll feel like, you riding me.”

I moan at his words, and at the same moment, a burst of liquid spills from my vagina and stains his pants in another spot. The contact of the wet fabric against my clit sends another shock of toe-curling pleasure through me, and I gasp.

“Sound like that when I’m fucking you, and I’m going to be doing it all night.” His voice is hard, as if he’s giving a warning, but I feel pleasure brim inside me at his words: When I’m fucking you.

He’s going to be doing that soon enough. And even if I have no idea about anything concerning my future, I know how much I want him.

“Why?” I hear myself ask.

“Why do I want to fuck you?” He nuzzles his face in the hollow between my neck and shoulders. “Baby girl, have you seen you? When you were wearing that bikini, I felt like I was about to burst into flames.”

Knowing it did have an effect on him pleases me, but I’m still not distracted from my question.

“Why were you keeping away from me?”

His hand stills on my breast, and for a moment, I’m worried I upset him enough for him to put an end to this. But the next second, he’s strumming my nipples so hard that I fall back against him, breathless from the feeling that gushes through my body.

“Because I was trying to do the honorable thing,” he says, now dragging me across his thighs. I feel the hardness of his dick brush against my naked pussy lips, causing me to let out another moan and yearn for the real deal.

Blake’s breath is shallow in my ear. “Turn around,” he mutters.

I can’t not obey him. I twist myself on his thigh, and soon enough, we are facing each other as I straddle him. Being butt naked in this position means I’m gaping open, but once more, I’m not embarrassed.

On the contrary, I’m desperate. Desperate to be filled . . . by him.

His head lifts to mine. He starts to kiss me. I part my lips to let him in, and his tongue slides in, probing, cloying, exploring the inner recesses of my mouth. I close my eyes, completely lost. I have written dozens of romance songs and have read a million romance novels, but there’s always something about the word swoon that makes me amused, because I felt it to be unrealistic.

But in this very moment, that’s what I’m doing. Swooning. Something about Blake’s kiss makes me forget everything around us, the cabin, our recent fight, even our sitting positions. It makes me forget about us, too, until all I’m left with is the thought of how good it feels to kiss him. I have never thought of it as a worthy part of foreplay. Until now. Because kissing Blake feels almost as good as I imagine sex with him to be.

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