Page 47 of Sweet Caroline
“Mm-hmm.” He nods, dragging his thumbs down my arms.
My body thrums with anticipation.
“So…” He tilts my chin up, exposing my neck. “Can I kiss you?”
I arch into him. “Like this?”
Cradling my jaw in his calloused hand, he slowly—so slowly—stoops to meet me. He grazes his open mouth over mine, heating my lips as he whispers, “Yeah. Like this.”
“Yes.” I close my fingers around handfuls of his T-shirt as a searing ache takes hold inside me, pulsing at my center and threatening to liquefy my knees. And when our lips finally meet, I think I could get lost in the warmth of his mouth. There’s a deep rumble from his throat, and I let out a small whimper in response.
When he pulls back, something in his expression shifts. That heat was impossible to miss—or deny—and every line of his face tells me he felt it too. Long seconds pass, both of us barely breathing as an unspoken understanding hangs heavy in the inches separating us.
And then he dives for me, crushing me against him andkissing me like he’s been starving for it. Lips, teeth, and tongues all clash and coax and explore, drawing us somehow closer. I twine my fingers in his hair, gripping gently, then tightening as I lose all access to reason. His hands are on my throat, my waist, my back, hauling me closer, pressing that telltale hardness against my stomach.
This isn’t the kind of kiss we’d ever do for the cameras. Not in public, and certainly not in front of my parents. This isn’t a fundraiser kiss. A practice kiss.
This isn’t a kiss at all.
No. This is my undoing.
10
MILES
Walking back to my truck is torture. The ache between my legs is so intense it takes everything I’ve got to move them in a left-right-left-right pattern—like I’ve forgotten how to fucking walk.
“Fuuuuck!” I groan out the moment I slam the door shut, already ripping open my belt buckle with one hand as I start the truck with the other. There’s no fighting it. Not anymore. Not after that kiss.
If you could even call it a kiss. It was so much more than a goddamn kiss.
What was I thinking?
She was so tempting in that dress, smelling so damn good with my favorite hoodie around her shoulders. And it was late. I wasn’t thinking straight after a stressful night. I know suggesting that practice kiss was a weak-ass excuse… But,fuck me,I’d have done anything to touch her.
Gravel skidding under my tires, I try not to peel out of Caroline’s driveway, swinging the truck into the road and scanning for the nearest place to pull over.
I can’t remember how I managed to tear myself away.
Did I even say goodnight?
But Caroline in that fucking gold dress, kiss-stung and breathless? The image is seared into my brain.
In an asinine attempt to take the edge off, I rub myself through my jeans, but all it does is make it worse. My dick is fucking throbbing by the time I get to the turnoff for Cherry Park and pull onto the muddy shoulder.
I kill the engine, praying no one will be here at one in the morning. In some vain attempt at privacy, I grab a ball cap from the back and yank the brim down over my eyes, then slouch low in my seat. Stretching the waistband of my boxer briefs over the head of my aching cock with one hand, I firmly fist my shaft with the other. The first tentative, experimental stroke already has me letting out an involuntary moan.
Shit.I’m so sensitive it almost hurts. Precum immediately beads at the tip and I rub it in with a thumb before I stroke it again, nearly squirming in my seat out of desperation.
I can’t believe I’m resorting to this. Jacking off on the side of the road is for teenagers and deviants, but I feel like some weird combination of both right now. Maybe I’m extra hard up for a release after tonight. That kiss… It pushed me past my limits. Just look at what it’s reduced me to: a pervert in a truck, fogging up the damn windows.
Well, guess I’ll have to face beingthat guylater, because I can’t fucking stop. Can’t stop thinking about Caroline. Her lips. Her body. How those long legs would straddle my lap if she were here right now, her perfect little tits pressed right in my face. I want to nuzzle into them like a fucking puppy while she scrapes her fingernails over my scalp.
This isn’t gonna take long.
It’s a wonder I have the presence of mind to grab an old work shirt from the back seat.Thanks, Riverside General Paint Supply, Iguess.I might be jerking off in my truck like a pervert, but I don’t need to begrossabout it. Tightening my grip, I speed up, each stroke bringing me closer to oblivion.
God, if I could just touch her now…
