Page 64 of The Harborer
Eyes widening, she pressed her palms against his chest. A nervous smile curved her lips. “People willsee!” she hissed.
Though she’d unlocked the doors, no customers were in the store yet. The remaining leaf peepers from the Boarding Call had cleared out yesterday, and he anticipated less traffic this morning—which meant he and Amy probably still had a few private moments to themselves.
He tightened his hold on her and dropped his head to the base of her neck, where he laid down a long, languid trail of kisses leading up to her ear. Her skin smelled like honey and cream and her, and he inhaled.
“Good,” he whispered. “Let them.” Hewantedeveryone to see him stake his claim. He wanted the whole town talking about how Amy Caufield was with Shane O’Brien.
He nibbled her earlobe—she liked that, he’d learned—and the caveman inside him grunted with pride when she melted against him and let out a soft moan. That sexy sound made other parts of him swell too, and he pinned her to him with one hand and slid the other to her ass. She wore thin leggings beneath a long T-shirt this morning, and he deftly lifted the hem and cupped one of her mouth-watering cheeks. Only the stretchy legging fabric separated his fingers from her skin.
“Damn, you feel good,” he murmured. He dipped his fingers below her waistband and stroked bare flesh. The realization of what he was touching turned his erect cock painfully hard. “Oh fuck. No panties today?”
“I’m wearing a thong.” Her voice was husky. Pure, unadulterated sex.
“I think I need to see you in my office,” he growled.
“That’smyoffice,” she breathed.
“Yeah. There too.” He began walking her backward.
“Shane! Stop!” she giggled. “What if someone walks in?”
“We’re behind the counter,” he pointed out with the wisp of logic remaining in a brain that was far more focused on his baser desires. His mouth continued its assault on her silky throat as he hoisted her up with one arm and maneuvered them toward her office, his stuttering steps mirroring his heartbeats.
She made no move to stop him, instead clinging to his shoulders and wrapping her legs around his waist. As he continued his single-minded march, his free hand tugged her tee from her apron ties. Was she wearing a bra? Eager to find out, he swept his hand up her waist, over her ribcage, and palmed her breast through satiny fabric that covered half of a ripe mound. It practically spilled from the cup, and his dick took immediate notice. Her heart pounded beneath his hand, matching the accelerating rhythm of his own.
“Bra. Damn,” he muttered.
She part laughed, part moaned. Her nipple strained against the cup, and he hooked his thumb over the edge, pulling it down to expose it to his touch. He strummed her peak into a pebbled bead, and she let out tiny gasp of pleasure. Despite his faltering steps, his determination ramped up, and soon he had her in her office, where he kicked the door closed and trapped her against her desk.
His slim hold on common sense dissolved. Feral energy consumed him, drove him.
He bent her over backward and lifted her T-shirt. Greedy eyes scoured her exposed breast. Not even a half beat passed before he yanked down the other cup. That’s when he noticed she wore a front clasp, and he quickly undid it and shoved the satiny scraps off her chest, clearing his view.
“Fuck,” he sighed. “Killing me here.” Laying her back gently on the desk, he lifted her legs and arranged them on either side of his hips. He leaned over her, bunched up her tee in his hand, and tucked it beneath her chin and out of his way.
Her torso was bared to him, her smooth, tawny skin on full display, and her chest rose and fell, making her luscious tits quiver. Yeah, she was turned on. Sexiest damn thing he’d ever seen.
He dipped his head and latched on to a dark bud, its hardness reminding him of a perfect pearl. He flicked his tongue over it, grazed his teeth, suckling and laving, then sucking hardwhen she pressed his head to her. While his mouth worshipped at her altar, his hand toyed with her other breast.
“Harder,” she hissed.
He roughened his touch, and she responded by arching her back off the desk. Her desperate mewls and pants filled his ears, spurring him on. Soon his mouth moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same adoration.
She bent a knee and drew up her leg, perching her heel on the edge of the desk. He rocked against her, and she lifted her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust. Dry humping had never been so erotic.
He drew back, his breathing ragged, his chest pounding from his hammering heart, and he pushed her bent knee down. Grasping her waistband, he dragged her leggings down, down, to the tops of her sneakers.
All of him wanted to strip her bare and fuck her senseless, but this would have to do for now.
“I need to see.” His voice was hoarse, guttural. He flipped her over, and she let out a squeak of surprise. The backstrap nestled between her ass cheeks was a lacy, racy red, and it demanded his attention first. From there, his gaze raked over the perfection that was the roundness of her globes. He had to touch. Skimming his fingers over every bite-worthy curve, he hooked one beneath the strap and lifted it to the side, allowing the fingers of his other hand to dive beneath her body. He cupped her, then dragged his fingers along her seam, coating them.
“You’re drenched, you know that?” he croaked. Self-satisfaction laced his gritty voice.It’s all because of me. Hehad done that to her. His touch had turned her sopping wet.
She raised her ass and wiggled it in invitation. His cock was about to punch through his fly. He pushed a finger inside her, and it glided in easily. So did the second one. He pumped them in and out, using an unhurried, tortuous rhythm that resembled nothing currently going on in his body.
“Oh, mmm …” she moaned.
Her bottom raised and lowered, matching the cadence of his fingers, and her cheeks jiggled delightfully. He released the backstrap and slid his other hand beneath her. The moment he added a third finger, he began tracing featherlight circles with the thumb of his free hand.
