Page 164 of The Promise Of You

Chloe laughs and I can’t help but join in. Being ribbed by my father and my future wife together?

The best.

That evening, we’re back at the cottage. And after I make us maple mint cocktails that are brutally deceptive in this heat. After Chloe doesn’t clue in to the deception part and asks for more.

After we dine on barbecued chicken thighs that I’ve been marinating for two days in beer and apple cider vinegar. After we taste a new sauce I’ve been working on and she gives me her approval by insisting it would taste better coming straight out of her mouth, which I try and agree.

After we dig into a tub of ice cream from the farm, and Chloe decides the only way to prevent brain freeze is for her to eat her ice cream out of my mouth, which she does, straddling me and sloppily dropping ice cream on her cleavage and demanding I lick it clean.

After I oblige.

After all that, I lift her in my arms and take her to the field where I parked my truck.

“What are you doing?” She giggles, slightly tipsy.

“I put a mattress in my truck bed.”

“Why?”

“Setting you on a mattress in my truck.”

“Why?”

“So you’re nice and comfortable.”

Another fit of giggles as I set her on her feet while I bring the tailgate down. “But why?”

“So I can make love to you in my truck. That alright?”

Her gaze goes dark. “Oooo… come here. I want your cock inside me,” she says, making the word ring. Then she slides to the ground, her fingers fumbling with my zipper.

Mmm. Tipsy Chloe has a filthy mouth. Nice to know. I lift her easily, climb inside the truck and set us on the mattress. “Now who’s a dirty little girl.”

She pulls her T-shirt above her head, her wild hair cascading around her face, her mouth open, and her heavy eyes falling on my lips. She frees her breasts—the little minx has another front clasp bra—and presses them between her hands. Then she lands on me, alcohol getting the better of her unsteady balance. “Fuck me, Justin. Fuck me like you mean it.”

“I always mean it,” I growl, making quick work of her shorts and my jeans.

“Show me those tats.”

I pull my shirt off, and she goes for the Clover tattoo, licking it. “I’m tattooed on your heart,” she slurs.

“Babe, you okay?”

“Just fuck me.”

So I set her on her back on the mattress so she can see the stars. There’s a blanket folded on the side for later. We’re both stark naked. I’ve been waiting for this for a long time. The weather had to be perfect, warm night and clear skies. The moon had to be close to full—I want to see her.

Tonight is perfect. “I love you,” I say and kiss her long and sweet and deep while her hips sway under mine. Her legs latch around my waist, pulling me to her.

Tipsy Chloe isn’t into foreplay. Now, granted, this whole evening was foreplay.

My dick is at her wet entrance, teasing her. “Tell me how you want it.”

As she opens her sweet mouth to answer, I focus entirely on her, on what she wants, on what she needs.

And I feel great doing only that.

I’m done with guilt.

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