Page 86 of At First Dance
“Rowan,” she pants, and the sound of my name on her lips is a fucking prayer.
“Tell me what you want,” I demand.
“You. All of you.”
I trail kisses down her ribs, over the faint curve of her stomach, dragging her jeans down inch by inch. My hands slide beneath the waistband of her panties, and she lifts her hips, trusting me completely.
God, she’s a vision.
I look up at her, lips parted, pupils blown wide.
“This okay?” I ask, voice rough.
She nods, breathless. “Please.”
I kiss the inside of her thigh, then again higher, until her legs tremble and her hand fumbles toward me.
I settle between her legs and taste her like I’ve been dying of thirst.
She gasps, her thighs clenching around me, hips rising in time with my tongue. She’s hot, slick, and perfect, and I make it my mission to learn every sound she makes when I bring her closer.
When her cries start to break, I pull back just enough to slide two fingers inside, curling them just right while my mouth works in tandem. Fucking her with my fingers may be one of my new favorite things.
She comes apart with a sob.
“Oh myGod,Rowan—”
“Good girl,” I whisper, holding her through it. “You’re doing so fucking good for me.”
She pulls at me then, desperate and impatient, fumbling with my belt.
“I want you,” she says. “Now.”
My jeans are gone in seconds, my body moving on instinct. I grab a condom from my wallet—never thought I’d need one in a damn shed—but thank God I was wrong.
Ivy wraps her legs around me as I enter her, both of us freezing for a beat at the overwhelming sensation.
“Jesus,” I grit. “You feel—God—better than anything.”
Her nails drag down my back as I start to move. Slow at first. Deep. Controlled. But she urges me on, gasping my name, hips matching every thrust until we’re both trembling.
Her walls clench around my erection, sucking at pulling it farther into the channel. Her ass slaps against my thighs with each thrust, and I can’t help but grab one of those glorious globes in my fist.
And when we come—it’s not just physical.
It’s a release. Of pain. Of fear. Of all the words we haven’t said.
I collapse beside her on the blanket, chest heaving.
She turns her head, eyes locked with mine.
“That was—” I kiss her before she can finish.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “It was.”
We lie tangled in each other’s limbs. The blankets are crumpled beneath us, and the storm is tapering off outside the barn. The soft hum of rain hitting the tin roof now sounds more like a lullaby than a warning.
Ivy traces lazy circles on my chest, her breath still uneven, her bare leg draped over mine. I want to say something. Anything. But I don’t know what the hell to say.
