Page 43 of Café Diablo

His hands move past my shorts to my bare thighs—just below my ass—and the fire of his fingers against my hot skin shoots bolts of lightning straight to where I’m aching. It’s so hot—the skin-on-skin contact, heightening every touch—that I’m aching to be wearing less than I am.

“You’rethe devil!” I hum against his mouth as we continue to kiss and rock, and those naughty fingers don’t stop teasing the back of my thighs.

I’m suddenly glad I live in the middle of nowhere and I have no neighbors to hear my gasps. I’m delirious with my need and the tickle of his thick fingers as they slip up under my short shorts to tease my lace-covered ass. I nip at his mouth, it’s so sinful, and I want him to slip his fingers under my lace as well.

“Yourhands are the devil,” I whisper, letting him play, savoring each grip and caress and tease of the fabric.

It makes me too aware of how much damn clothing we’re still wearing, igniting my imagination. Suddenly, I’m thinking about what it would be like to be wearing nothing but my panties, and to find Edwin behind me pulling them down to my knees.Mmmmmm.I moan at the wicked images racing through my head. God, Edwin’s big, and I remember him and his incredible thighs behind me on my moped. How incredible would it feel to have him pushing into me from behind!

We’re clearly wearing too much clothing.

An issue that needs to be remedied as fast as possible.

I sit up abruptly, my ascent making me deliriously lightheaded. Edwin grabs my hips to keep me from toppling us over in the hammock, and I laugh softly at my own abrasiveness, using his chest to steady me. His hands grip me for extra reinforcements, and when I think I’ve found a semblance of balance, I lift up fully and drag my black t-shirt over my head, the night kissing the bare skin of my stomach and shoulders.

Edwin’s eyes sparkle in the dark as he takes in the sight of me straddling him, wearing only my shorts and bra. I bite my lip and brush my dark hair back so my tits are fully visible to him in the moonlight. The black lace of the strappy bra hardly contains them, the lace molding to my breasts like a second skin.

He looks at me like I am an evil witch who’s cast a spell on him, and I smile softly, happy to continue my wicked sorcery. I take one of his hands and run it up the flat of my bare stomach. His fingers are so thick and warm and they cover so much width of my skin that I moan shamelessly when I slide his palm up over my swollen breasts. The bra isn’t padded, allowing me to feel every hot inch of his wicked fingers as they run across my erect nipples.

“I want—” I whisper as I let go of his hand. “I want your hands on me.” I whimper at the way his fingers cup my swollen weight, his fingers feathering the line of lace that teases my aching nipples. “I want you in this hammock. I want you in my tiny house. I want you on the desk of your office.”

I lean forward again and kiss him, bracing my arms against the sides of the hammock and allowing both of his hands to have free range over my chest. He growls as our mouths fuse together and his palms plunge beneath the lace cups, exposing my naked breasts.

“Don’t stop,” I urge, my heart kicking up a notch as I lean into his exquisite caress and pressure, his rakish thumbs strumming and plucking my throbbing nubs.

I lick his mouth in appreciation, reaching back to unhook the bra entirely, untangling my arms from the straps and tossing it to the floor of my lanai.

He claims me again as I strain against him, topless in the hammock. His hands ravage my bareness, showering me with his rakish heat. His hands are on fire, searing over my spine and my ribs, then up the swells of my breasts, across my shoulders and back down again. It turns me to liquid.

His mouth devours my neck, my collar bone, my shoulders. He attempts to put those blazing lips on my aching tits, but our current hammock position doesn’t allow it. When suddenly, his legs split and he flips us upright, holding me steady so we’re sitting in the hammock instead of lying horizontally. I’m still in his lap, straddling his hips, but his legs now dangle, one on each side of the hammock, allowing his socked feet to hit the porch. The new position increases the pressure of his bulge between my legs, making my pussy crave his fullness.

Edwin pulls his button-up shirt from its tucked position in his pants and starts unbuttoning, but I’m far too impatient to wait for each of those tiny buttons to unveil him. I push the shirt up his chest, forcing it up over his head. Only, the shirt is tight and well-fitted, and it takes more effort for him to awkwardly strip it off his shoulders and arms. It gives me the chance to gaze at his gorgeous chest and torso.

Sweet Lord, Edwin definitely spends a significant amount of time in the gym. He’s not just beautiful, he’sfit!A soft swirl of chest hair runs right between the sculpted ridges of his pecks and down his gorgeous abdomen.

“Edwin!” I growl, overheated, my eyes raking over his plains of muscle. “I want to paint you.”

“Later,” he gruffs out, pushing me forward and flipping me onto my back. He follows me down, smothering me with the weight and pressure of his body as I’m crushed into the hammock.

My fingers claw at his naked back as he adjusts me higher against the hiker’s fabric so he can reach the parts of me that were out of reach before. His wet mouth covers my tits and I sigh hotly, lost in the incoherent heat of his nibbling and biting—raking his teeth against my straining flesh.

Us kissing in the hammock was sweet for a second, but now I’m as turned on as when I was spread open on his desk. Only this time, I know exactly how his lips feel against my trembling skin—my pussy spasming in hopes that he’ll lick and suck her with the same arousing deliberation.

And then, Edwin’s lips drop from my tits and move lower to my stomach, headed right in the direction of the apex between my legs!

17

Ned

Olivia’s tits are perfect—perky and filling my hands. They’re not too big, and not too small, but just the right size for her proportions. Her nipples tighten under my tongue, turning into tiny pink marshmallows that I can’t get enough of. But it’s her moans that have my cock ready to see how much pressure this hammock can really handle.

Olivia whimpers as my mouth leaves her breasts to drift lower, blazing a trail down the silken curve of her stomach. I smile against her belly button as her nails dig into my back, and I’ll be damned, I’ve finally figured out how to get this woman to stop talking. All it takes is getting her half naked and making sure she’s writhing so hard against my body that she can hardly breathe.

“Olivia,” I say darkly, tasting her navel and teasing my lips across the soft band of peach fuzz just below her belly button. “There’s something you offered me in my office that I haven’t been able to get out of my mind.”

She arches as I shift myself lower, dragging my mouth to the top of her shorts. My hand caresses the small of her back, and she’s a taught bow of perfection bending into my touch. A string I want to pluck.

“And you say you aren’t a fan of Georgia O’Keeffe,” Olivia pants, as I leisurely unzip the front of her shorts and the lace of her panties come into view beneath them. I nuzzle my mouth against the naughty fabric, making her moan against my hot breath, before I bite that top lace with my teeth and inch them down.

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