Page 117 of Scrape the Barrel
I took my time kissing her neck, then moved back over her chest to her breast again, sucking the bud back into my mouth.Her breath hitched, then her thighs tightened, and my name passed her lips as her entire core shook around me. Her pussy gripped my cock so tight, I saw stars, and then I came along with her.
My mouth popped off her tit as I groaned, my hand that was on her waist moving to grab her ass as she continued to milk every last ounce from me.
As her orgasm ebbed, she stayed seated on me, her forehead resting on my shoulder as she caught her breath.
“You should wear this dress more often,” I said. The sight of her coming apart in it was my fucking undoing.
She let out a small chuckle. “You like it?”
“I fucking love it.”
I felt her smile before she lifted her head to look at me. “I love you.”
I froze, unable to even blink. “You—” I cleared my throat. “You love me?” Maybe I’d heard her wrong.
She nodded, her bottom lip disappearing as she worried it with her teeth.
“Me?”
She nodded again. “Yes, you. There’s no one else in this truck.”
“You’re sure?”
“Should I not?”
I quickly shook my head. “No. No, you should, because Ilove you, too.”
Her mouth slowly pulled into a smile before she crashed her mouth to mine in a kiss that stole every thought, breath, and feeling straight from me.
She pulled away, asking, “It’s not too soon, right?”
“We’re living on our own timeline, baby. If it’s right, it’s right.”
She looked so damn beautiful sitting on me with her rosy cheeks and mussed up hair, her dress still hiked up her thighs with my cock still inside her.
“I like that,” she said.
My mouth quirked up. “Me, too.”
She smiled as I fixed her dress back over her breast, situated myself back in my pants, then reached for the locks. I opened the door and helped her out, making sure her dress was tugged down so she was decent.
Once we were both out of the truck, we headed toward the rides and booths where the screams of children filled the air as they were flown around on swings and metal contraptions that looked far too rickety to trust.
“Do you still want to go on some rides?” I asked Sage as we walked, her hand folded in mine.
“Do you?” With a glance her way, I noticed she was eyeing me with a grin on her face.
“What’s so funny?”
She shook her head. “You looka bit worried.”
I gestured to the chaos ahead of us as we walked under the lit up arch. “Areyounot worried about these metal death machines?”
“You ride horses,” she said, as if that made me indestructible.
“And your point is? Horses don’t fly in the air at high rates of speed and spin you around with mere screws holding your seat together.”
She threw her head back, letting out a laugh that could’ve put the sun and all its glory to shame.
