Page 86 of Sugar and Skulls

“No. If your spooked go on.” I wave my hand at the entrance. “You know I thought you would be different.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he says, flippantly.

I take another drink and then level my eyes on his. “I thought you would show me what it’s supposed to be like.” I finish the beer and toss it into the corner of the tent then flop onto my back, staring at the lights twinkling above me. “It’s fine, Dirk. Go. Just, fucking go.”

He hesitates a moment then crawls out of the tent.

I lay there wondering how the day went from perfect to shit in the matter of minutes. It’s fine. It’s fine. I’ll just stay here and drink and drink and drink.

The tent flap flies open and Dirk barrels in. He crawls over the top of me, standing on his knees. His eyes swirling, storms of emotion. He grabs the back of his shirt pulling it over his head. My eyes trail over his torso as the soft cotton rises. Jesus Christ. I try to scoot up but his thighs clench tighter over my hips holding me captive.

“You want me to show you what it’s supposed to be like?” he asks as he unbuckles his belt tugging it out of the loops.

My heart skitters like an unbridled horse.

I watch as he pops the button on his jeans, sliding the zipper down slowly. My eyes rise to his. He flicks the ring in his lip, and I swear the temperature rises thirty degrees. I can’t take my eyes off this goddamn man. He is all fucking sorts of dark gorgeous.

Dirk bends over me bracing his inked arms on either side of my head. “Last chance to back out, sweetheart.”

“Have you ever known me to back out of anything,” I whisper.

The swirl in his eyes slows. His thumb brushes over my temple. “You know I’ll stop if you tell me to.”

“I won’t want you to stop.” I raise my head and press my lips to his.

As quickly as a strike of a match the tent goes up in flames. His mouth is everywhere, leaving tracks of heat in its wake. His warm hands slide under my shirt. Dirk incinerates every memory of touch that came before him. He pushes my shirt higher. I raise my shoulders so that he can pull it over my head. His eyes roam over my body, even those seem to leave scorching paths behind. “You are so fucking beautiful,” he whispers over me. His words warming me from the inside.

His hands are rough and hot and goddammed perfect as they trail over my tanned skin. My eyes fall closed as I focus on them. Jesus it feels good to have him touch me. I’ve never felt so…so fucking good.

I thought I would be scared. I was worried my skin might crawl. I was terrified it would feel too much like them.

God was I wrong.

I grab his shoulders and pull him closer so that he is laying on top of me. When I open my eyes he is there, right there, staring deep into my eyes. He searches my face for signs. His thumb rests over the pulse in my neck.

“How do you feel?” he asks, hesitantly.

“Fucking amazing.” I draw my leg up, so my foot trails up the back of his calf.

He settles between my legs. Slowly he shifts and presses his length against me. My stomach flips when he tilts his hips, grinding gently against me. Dirk smiles when I groan and push back against him.

He slides down my body. His fingers glide under the waist band of my shorts, kicking my heart into overdrive. He raises his eyes to mine. I give him a tiny nod before he slides them down my legs and off my toes. He tosses them to the side, not taking his eyes away from me.

Oh my god, this is embarrassing. I throw my arm over my face, hiding from him. When I feel his hot breath on my sensitive skin, I bolt upright. He pushes me back down grabbing my wrists to keep my arms straight by my side. “I want to taste you, Jesse Miller.”

What? Oh god, why did I not talk to Raffe, to Candice, to someone!

This is Dirk. What did I think sex with him would be like? He’s not the hop on, hop off sort of guy. He is going to want to….oh god, I don’t even know. I’m so fucking naïve.

I flex my fingers as his grip tightens around my writs. He is waiting for a response.

I inhale and blow out slowly. “Okay,” I say uncertainly.

That’s all the permission he needed. He releases my wrists and pushes my knees apart. The moment his mouth connects, my back arches off the ground. Holy fuck. Just. Holy fuck.

He chuckles, the vibration taking me places I never knew existed. His tongue flicks over me, making me cry out. Every woodland animal is going to be running for the hills. The more noise I make and the more I thrash in the blankets, the more insistent he becomes.

“It’s…it’s too much,” I pant, fisting the blankets.

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