Page 43 of April 5

"You were passed out." She jerked her arm, but he refused to let her go. "And that was me kissing you, not the other way around. You didn't break the rules."

He shook his head. "When you were sixteen, I took you on the back of my Harley to pick up a dress for a dance at school."

She remembered the frustration that day. It had taken a long time trying on different dresses for him to approve of one that looked like a thirty-year-old would wear to church. Ultimately, she never wore the dress because the boy—she couldn't even remember his name—stood her up.

"Do you remember what happened?"

"I didn't go."

"You didn't go because I told the boy if he touched you, I'd kill him." His gaze softened. "Do you remember what happened that night? I taught you how to dance under the stars outside Mama Sue's house."

"We weren't dancing." Her stomach warmed.

"We were..." He pulled her closer and put his hands on her hips. "Swaying."

She looked up at him. "You told me men like when women sway. When they walk. When they dance."

"Mm-hm." He raised one of his hands and palmed the back of her neck, holding her close to him, swaying. "When you were seventeen, I let you kiss me."

"French kiss," she mumbled.

It was the first time she'd ever had someone else's tongue in her mouth. It was more intimate than anything she'd ever experienced. Even more than having sex for the first time. That kissing session had ignited something wild and uncontrollable inside of her.

"At eighteen, you grew up." He caressed the side of her face with his beard and kept moving, side to side. "You knew what your body would do to me."

"I watched the bitches in the clubhouse when I snuck out of Mama Sue's house."

He chuckled in her ear. "I bet you did."

She closed her eyes as his hot breath skimmed her neck. Her temper simmered. All she wanted was to have him hold her and keep swaying.

"When your dad walked out of prison, and I left to start a new chapter, who did I sleep with every time I returned to Beaverton?"

"Me," she whispered.

He put his mouth on her ear. "Somewhere between twelve years old and now, I crossed a line without even being conscious of doing it."

"It's not your fault."

"I'm guilty." He pulled his head back and kissed her lips. "And it was worth every fucking minute."

She kissed him back, madly holding on to him. He walked her backward, pulling at her bikini top. She jumped from one foot to the other as he pushed down her shorts and removed her damp bottoms she wore swimming.

His tongue stroked her mouth. She searched and found his buckle and undid his jeans. Pushing the denim down to his hips, she ignored taking anything off him and jumped into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He gripped her waist, thrust into her pussy, and then pressed her back against the wall. A moan of pleasure escaped her lips before she found his mouth again.

The wall provided no cushion. Every plunge of his cock rocked her. She clung to his shoulders as the inside of her thighs quivered.

Her core coiled tighter and tighter. She ripped her mouth off him and pulled his head to her neck, sucking in air.

He thrust. She exhaled.

He withdrew. She inhaled

Until Jagger's movements became too fast to breathe. She panted.

Her limbs tightened around him, holding on.

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