Page 70 of Sleepover

Chapter 33

Sawyer

What kind of guy could ignore that kind of information? I mean, seriously.

There’s a lesser-known entrance to one of the wilderness areas in Revere Lake, one that backs up on the lake but isn’t typically used for recreation. The parking lot there holds only a car or two, and when you’re parked there, you’re not visible from the road.

We won’t get caught. It’s a weeknight, the truck is black, and this entrance isn’t used much. Which is a good thing. We have kids at home. Neither of us wants our kids to have to attend Revere Lake High School under the shameful banner of being the child of people caught doing the deed in a pickup truck at the edge of the Revere Lake Forest Area.

That said, we could get caught, and we both know it. The knowledge is like a hand cupped around my balls. And I can tell she’s hyperaware of it, too, because when I brush her long hair back from her face, she whimpers at the touch of fingertips on blond strands, telling me how primed she is for me.

I kiss her cheek—as smooth as satin—the whorls of her ear, the edge of her jaw, the long line of her throat, her collarbone, until my fingertips find the top edge of her dress, and oh my God her tits are so fucking soft…

“I could live here,” I say reverently, my lips and nose against the curve of her breast, and she laughs, then jerks away suddenly.

“What was that?” she asks, and I can feel her heart pick up.

I’d seen it, too, the flash of lights from a car on the road.

“What, worried someone will see?” I tease. I cup her head, draw her close to me, kiss her. Just the touch of mouth to mouth, then a slow, tentative exploration, my tongue seeking and finding ways to give her pleasure. Her lips nip mine, her hands tug on my shirt and hair. She jerks my shirt out of my waistband so she can slide her hands under it while I kiss her deeper, longer, fiercer. I want to know every sound she makes. I want her to make sounds she’s never made before.

The headlights pass, illuminating the interior of the truck just enough to show me the haze of desire in her eyes, then head off down the road.

“We could get caught,” she whispers.

“Mmm-hmm. We could.”

She shivers.

“You like that.”

“Yeah.”

Jesus.“C’mere,” I say, and she climbs over the central console, straddling me. She reaches between us, unbuckles my belt, fumbles with my zipper. I push her hands out of the way. She lifts up and gives me access, and I free myself. My dick juts up between us, and she wriggles close, rubbing herself on me. I can feel how wet she is, soaking through the thin lace of her panties.

“Condom,” she demands breathily.

“Foreplay,” I remind her.

“I want you. Now. Tonight.”

I almost lose it. I have to summon all of my willpower. It has been worn thin by weeks of teasing each other, but we’ve made it this far and have only a few more days to go. I want the chance to make love to her slowly, carefully, luxuriously, on a hotel bed, for as long and as many times as I want. I want to make sure she has no regrets and no reason to distrust things between us.

“I don’t have a condom.”

“I think I have one in my pur—”

I cut off her words with a deep kiss, reaching between us to tug her lacy panties to the side so I can ease my erection along the slick seam of her sex. My dick skates across her swollen clit.

“Ohhhhhhh.”

“Like that?”

“I’d like it better if—”

I kiss her again, thrusting my tongue into her mouth, and she moans, shifting her hips against my hardness. She’s so wet we can hear that juicy slide in the quiet cab.

“I can hear how wet you are. I can hear how much you want it.”

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