Page 146 of Overcast

“Ending what?” She props her arms on my shoulders for support that she doesn’t need because I wouldn’t let go if there was a gun to the back of my head.

“This suffering you’re putting me through. First last night...” I spread her ass cheeks apart with my palms. “And then humiliation by making me do a cartwheel.” She lets out a weak tsk. “Followed by similar payback by water, shoving me into this lake here.”

“It was...a friendly push.” Her voice is strained, and it does nothing to the strings of my rationality to not do something else more fun right now in this moment.

“Maybe I couldn’t swim.” I close in over her lips, waiting for her to pull, move, or push me away. “You gonna save me, sweetheart? Or watch me drown?”

I don’t bother waiting for a response because my lips already lock onto hers.

I don’t stop the emitted moan that escapes my chest. And I don’t trouble with telling my cock to chill out because all of this is futile. She pries something within me that begs to flourish and claim. It’s powerful and mind-consuming to where an alarm rings in my head to be careful, but it’s not loud enough.

And when Stormi opens her mouth wider for me to take—my ass can kiss that shit goodbye.

“We should stop,” I mutter against her lips, forcing the words to leave me like an exorcism. Everything about her possesses me into forgetting everything around me, us, everything that’s happened.

“If you want to,” she voices, still clinging onto me like a baby koala on a tree, and I’m not about to knock her off.

Even though I should.

“Don’t leave the ball in my court,” I counter. “This is...” Her lips gently graze mine, sending another jolt of lust to my groin. “Stormi, you’re fucking killing me here.”

“Wasn’t that what you said I could do?” Her tone drips innocence loaded with sugar and sweetness, but I notice she has something more unruly developing in her pretty head.

And I’m dying to know what it is she wants.

“You don’t have anyone to save you, sweetheart. We’re alone this time.”

She bobs her head. “I know.”

“And the things I’ve imagined doing in my head with you...let’s just say they’re not habitual.”

“You don’t want to do them?”

Christ.

My eyes fall shut because I do—I do want to do them.

I just don’t know if I can deal with regret outlining her features if we take this another step forward.

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