Page 159 of Role Play
“When you doubt yourself, I’ll believe for both of us. When your heart breaks, I’ll fix it. When you talk, I’ll listen. When you write, I’ll read.”
Just like that, it’s not funny anymore. The mood shifts. Desire surges, but it’s not just the ache beneath my navel. My heart is swelling, desperately wanting to be cradled in his hands.
He unties the flannel shirt, then slips it off, one sleeve at a time. When he notices me shiver, he covers as much of my body in warm kisses as he can. His touch is electric against my bare skin, and a small gasp escapes me when his hand slips under my tank top, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says, his voice rough with desire. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
Before I can respond, he tugs my tank top up and over my head, leaving me in only my bra and denim shorts. If I ever was cold, I’ve forgotten. He’s creating all the warmth I need with his tender touches. Forrest’s mouth finds my collarbone, then dips lower.
“You all right?” he asks, his breath hot against my skin.
“In heaven,” I manage, threading my fingers through his hair to guide him back to my lips.
Our kisses grow more heated, more desperate. I tug at his shirt, needing to feel more of him, and he breaks away to pull it off. My eyes devour the sight of him shirtless in the golden glow of the string lights—all defined muscle and taut, tan skin. Wordlessly, I trace the planes of his chest with my fingertips, exploring the dips and curves of his body with unhurried appreciation. When I reach the waistband of his jeans, I feel his muscles tense in anticipation.
“Sora,” he groans, the sound of my name on his lips like a prayer and a curse wrapped into one.
I’ve never felt more powerful, more desired, than in this moment. Under the vast Wyoming sky, with stars as our only witnesses, I feel free in a way I never have before—free to want, to take, to give without hesitation.
Forrest’s hands find the button of my shorts, a question in his eyes. I nod, lifting my hips to help as he slides them down my legs, leaving me in nothing but my underwear and anticipation. I hold my breath, almost not wanting it to start, because eventually we’ll have to stop. Is there a way to stay suspended here forever? How do I keep this moment from turning into a memory?
“God, look at you,” he says, his voice filled with awe. “Like you belong here.”
“I do belong here. Under the stars. Under you.” I reach for him, pulling him back down to me, reveling in the feel of his weight, settling me still. His hand slides between us, fingers finding the edge of my panties, then slipping beneath with careful deliberation.
“Always so wet,” he groans against my neck, his touch finding my most sensitive spot with unerring accuracy. “Say it’s for me, baby. Only for me.”
“Yes,” I gasp, arching into his touch. “Only for you.”
He works me with skilled fingers, alternating pressure and pace until I’m writhing beneath him, teetering on the edge of release. Just when I think I can’t take anymore, he withdraws his hand, earning a whimper of protest from me.
“Not yet,” he says, his voice a low command that thrills every sensitive part of me. “I want to taste you dripping wet first.”
Before I can process his words, he’s moving down my body, pressing open-mouthed kisses along his path. He pauses at my breasts, lavishing attention on each nipple through the lace of my bra until I’m squirming with need. Then he descends, across my stomach, lower,lower.
He hooks his fingers into my panties, looking up at me with those striking eyes that have so quickly claimed my soul. “Okay?”
“Please.”
He slides my underwear down with torturous slowness, his callused hands leaving trails of fire on my skin. Finally he settles between my thighs, his breath hot against my center.
The first touch of his tongue is electric, pulling a sharp gasp from my lips that echoes in the open air. Strong hands grip my thighs, holding me open for him as he deftly explores, focusing on rhythms that make me moan, then tremble.
“Show-off,” I simper.
“Mmm. You taste so damn good,” he murmurs, his words vibrating exquisitely against me. “Sweet and sexy, and fuck’s sake, baby, I want your taste to live on my tongue.”
I tangle my fingers in his hair, beyond words, beyond thought, reduced to pure sensation as he works me higher. When he slides a finger inside me, curling it to hit exactly the right spot while his tongue continues its relentless attention, the tension building within me snaps.
My release is an overwhelming, rapid-fire assault of sensation. The pulses of pleasure annihilate me, becomingalmost painful as I whimper through his playful post-orgasm teasing. He continues with persistence until I have to push his head away with my shaky hand, too sensitive to withstand any more contactuntil the rapturous pings still firing through me eventually subside.
He moves back up my body, wearing a self-satisfied grin that would be so arousing if I weren’t completely boneless with pleasure. “Beautiful,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my lips that allows me to taste myself on his tongue.
Selfishly, I’m so sated, I could pull up the covers to my chin and fall asleep under the stars. Forrest would let me. That’s how good he is to me. If he knew I was tired, he’d cuddle me until I was passed out and dreaming of this night all over again. But I inhale a few deep, brisk breaths, reenergizing myself because I want to give him what he gives me:everything.
His breath catches as I work his jeans open, then slide my hand inside to wrap around him tightly. I twist my wrist, coaxing his thick cock to a full erection. “Shit, Sora,” he hisses, his nostrils flaring on the out breath.
“Problem?” I ask innocently, stroking him through his boxers.
