Page 160 of Role Play
“Only that you’re going to end this party before it really starts if you keep that up.” He captures my wrist, bringing my hand to his lips to kiss my palm. “And I’m not nearly done with you yet.”
In one smooth motion, he stands to remove his jeans and boxers, then rejoins me on the mattress. The sight of him fully naked in the string lights’ glow is breathtaking—all lean muscle and perfect proportions, his arousal evident and more than impressive. Truthfully? Maybe too much.Almosttoo much.
His eyes darken as he watches me take him into my mouth. The weight of him on my tongue is substantial, the taste a heady mixture of salt and skin that sends renewed desire spiralingrightwhere I was just excessively replete. I work my way downhis length, taking him as deep as I can, reveling in the way his thighs tense beneath my palms.
“Christ, Sora,” he groans, one hand clasping a fistful of my hair, not guiding but anchoring himself. “Your mouth…fuck.”
The raw need in his voice spurs me on. I establish a rhythm, alternating between long, slow strokes and focused attention to his sensitive head, my hand working what my mouth can’t reach. His breathing grows more ragged with each pass, the muscles in his abdomen tightening in the golden glow of the string lights.
The scent of him is criminally erotic—clean sweat but with a hint of earth and something uniquely Forrest that I crave beyond measure.How would a heroine describe that scent…? No—stop that. Stop working.When I glance up, the sight brings me right out of my head and nearly undoes me completely—his head thrown back, throat exposed, lips parted as broken sounds escape him. I could do it: write a bestseller, hang the flippin’ moon, all the things. What could be as profoundly satisfying as reducing this strong, controlled man to wordless pleasure?
“Baby, stop,” he finally manages, his voice strained. “I need to be inside you.”
I release him with reluctance, pressing one final kiss to the tip, letting his salty precum vanish on the tip of my tongue, while allowing him to hoist me up into his arms. He crushes his mouth to mine, the kiss desperate and claiming, his hands roaming over my body with renewed urgency.
“Turn around,” he murmurs against my lips. “I want you from behind, cowgirl.”
The command sends a fresh surge of electricity between my thighs. I comply, positioning myself on hands and knees, feeling intensely vulnerable and powerful all at once. The cool night air whispers across my heated skin, raising goose bumps along my spine that Forrest soothes away with warm palms.
“Look at you,” he breathes, reverence clear in his voice as his hands trace the curve of my hips, the dip of my waist. I wiggle my hips, egging him on. “Good girl. Make me want it. So fucking perfect.”
I feel him positioning himself, the blunt pressure of him seeking entrance. When he pushes in, it’s with exquisite slowness that has us both gasping. The stretch is intense, borderline uncomfortable, but then he’s fully seated, sheath to hilt, and the discomfort transforms into bone-deep satisfaction.
We can’t abstain from sex this long. What stretches snaps back, making the girth of him like losing my virginity all over again. A momentary break and it feels like the first time. But maybe that’s not so bad. What I wouldn’t do for a thousand more first times with Forrest.
“You okay? You’re shaking,” he says, his voice tender despite the evident strain of holding himself still.
“Yes,” I manage, the word more breath than sound. “You can move.”
He complies, drawing back and then pressing forward in a measured thrust that sends sparks of pleasure cascading through me. His pace is controlled at first, each movement deliberate, but soon builds in intensity. His hands grip my hips with bruising pressure, guiding my body to meet his thrusts.
The truck rocks gently beneath us, the blankets bunching under my knees. Above, the vast Wyoming sky stretches endlessly, stars bearing silent witness to our union. The distant soundtrack of the forgotten movie mingles with our sounds—his grunts of effort, my breathless moans, the rhythmic creak of the truck’s suspension.
“Touch yourself. Rub your perfect little clit,” Forrest commands, his voice rough with exertion. “I need to feel you come on my cock.”
I balance on one arm, slipping my free hand between my thighs to find the bundle of nerves already swollen and sensitive. The dual stimulation is overwhelming, pushing me rapidly toward another peak. Forrest’s thrusts grow more erratic, his breathing harsh in the night air.
I’m nearly at the cusp when he slows. Before I can ask why, he spreads my ass cheeks apart, surely surveyingallof me. I’m glad I’m turned around, so my self-consciousness is somewhat kept at bay.
He silently spits, only evident because a glob of lubrication hits my asshole before dripping down to my sex. “Curious?” he asks dangerously.
“A little,” I admit, but I can barely handle him where I’m meant to take him. A tighter hole seems unreasonable. “I’m scared though.”
“Just my finger,” he coos, circling his new target. “Tell me if you don’t like it.”
His finger circles gently, applying just enough pressure to tease but not enter. “Relax for me,” he whispers, his voice a velvet caress against my heightened senses. “Trust me.”
I take a deep breath, trying to will my body to soften. His other hand strokes my lower back in soothing circles, his cock still buried deep inside me but motionless now, allowing me to adjust to this new sensation.
“That’s it,” he encourages as I gradually relax. The tip of his finger slips just past the tight ring of muscle, and a strange new pleasure ripples through me. “Good girl. You’re doing great, baby. I wish you could see yourself. So fucking hot.”
The dual sensation—his thick length filling me completely while his finger explores this forbidden territory—is staggering. A moan escapes me, primal and unrestrained, carried away by the Wyoming wind.
“You like that?” he asks, though the answer must be obvious from the way my body shudders around him.
“Yes,” I gasp. “Don’t stop.”
He begins to move again, short, rhythmic thrusts that build in intensity as his finger works in tandem with his cock. The pressure is divine, hitting places inside me I didn’t know could feel pleasure. Each movement sends sparks dancing behind my closed eyelids, building a tension so sweet it’s almost excessive.
