Page 161 of Role Play
The night air cools the sweat beading along my spine, creating a delicious contrast to the heat of Forrest’s body against mine. The sounds of our coupling—slick flesh meeting flesh, ragged breathing, half-formed words of encouragement and need—seem amplified in the endlessness surrounding us.
“Fuck, Sora,” Forrest growls out, his free hand tightening on my hip. “You’re squeezing me so tight. So perfect.”
His words push me closer to the edge. The pressure of his finger increases slightly, pumping deeper, harder. The truck rocks beneath us, the springs creaking in protest, but neither of us cares. In this moment, we’re reduced to our most primal selves—seeking, claiming, giving, taking.
My arms begin to tremble with the effort of supporting myself, but before they can give out, Forrest withdraws his finger and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me upright so my back presses against his chest. This new angle drives him impossibly deeper, tearing a cry from my throat that echoes across the landscape.
“I’ve got you. Come hard for me. Fucking lose it, baby. I’ll hold you.”
His free hand slides down my belly to where we’re joined, fingers finding my swollen clit with unerring accuracy. It’s too much—I shatter around him, surges of ecstasy crashing through me with such force that tears spring to my eyes. My innermuscles clench around his length, drawing a guttural groan from deep in his chest.
“That’s it,” he praises, working me through the aftershocks. “I can feel it, baby. That’s what drives me over the edge.”
My climax triggers his own building release. His movements become less calculated, more desperate. His teeth graze my shoulder, not quite biting down but threatening to mark me. Possessing me.
“Where?” His voice is strained with the effort of holding back. “Not inside tonight.”
He’s right. We’re a ways away from a bathroom to get properly cleaned up.
“Wherever you want,” I permit without hesitation.
He pushes me back down on all fours, and after a few more demanding thrusts, he places the tip of his sex against my tender ass, coating me with his warmth. The sensation triggers a reaction in me. Maybe it’s because something that once felt forbidden is now so unapologetically explored. The idea of Forrest knowing every single part of my body… I come again, with every shred of energy I have left. I crash from my knees to my stomach, flattening myself against the mattress as my final orgasm fades into the night.
Forrest collapses to my side, rolling me over so he can hold me in his arms, shielding me from the cold.
For a time, we remain locked together, our breaths gradually slowing. Then, with infinite tenderness, he brushes damp hair from my forehead, his touch patient, reverent.
“How was that?” he asks, his voice rough around the edges. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“I’m perfect,” I assure him, pressing a kiss to his palm. “That was…”
“Yeah,” he agrees, understanding my inability to find adequate words. “It was.”
A comfortable silence moves in as our bodies cool down. He peels away from me with a groan. “Stay here.”
Still butt naked, he hops down from the truck bed, retrieving a clean cloth from the cab. I smile into the mattress as he wipes me clean. When he’s finished, Forrest reclaims me in his arms and repositions us to the top of the mattress. Reaching down, he pulls a blanket over us, effectively making a cocoon for our body heat to nestle. On the forgotten screen, the movie continues, casting flickering blue light that dances with the golden glow of the string lights.
I trace idle patterns on his chest, memorizing the texture of his skin, the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my palm. His fingers comb through my tangled hair, gently working out the knots.
“We have to start the movie over,” he murmurs after a while, his voice barely audible. “I missed everything.”
I prop myself up on an elbow to see his face better. “Good idea.” I peck his chest. “Let’s start over. All the way from the beginning. We won’t miss a minute this time.”
“Not a damn minute,” he muses, eyes on me, not the screen. “We’ll rewrite everything exactly the way we want.”
Look how far I’ve come. The writer who creates love stories but never stopped to write her own. I can’t remember the last time I checked a sales dashboard, or stressed about a crummy review. The last couple months have been too full of meaning to worry about meaningless things.
Forrest agreed to help inspire me to write a bestseller. Instead, he inspired me to live a life.
I nuzzle into him as the opening credits ofThe Princess Brideplay once more. He scoots me closer, tucking my head under his chin, his heartbeat steady against my ear. He rubs my shoulders furiously. “Cold? Should we get dressed?”
“Don’t move a muscle, cowboy. Stay in this moment with me.”
We lie in comfortable silence, limbs tangled, skin cooling in the night air but warmed by our shared body heat beneath the blanket. Above us, millions of stars continue their silent dance across the royal, dark purple sky.
“Thank you,” Forrest says suddenly.
“For what?”
