Page 125 of Truck Stop Tempest

A series of explosions erupted in my chest. “You just said fuckin’ again.”

With a shrug, she teased, “You bring out the best in me.”

God, the things I wanted to do with her not-so-dirty mouth. “I really need to kiss you now.”

“I need to do more than kiss you, but I’ve been driving for days. I need a shower.”

Damn, that devilish glint in her eyes.

I leaned forward, intent on ravaging that mouth despite her plea. Tuuli shoved me away, hopped off the swing, then dashed around the hot tub and through the door, a wave of wild, white hair flowing behind her.

I followed her trail of discarded clothing, my cock growing harder, pulse beating faster with each step. Tuuli was already under the spray when I entered the bathroom, the large glass enclosure leaving nothing to the imagination. My bunny, on full display, her perky tits, that small waist, and those lean, creamy legs.

“Tito,” she said, voice high, lit with wonder. “You have my favorite shampoo in here.”

“I do.” I ditched my shoes.

“Girlie soap, too.”

“Yep.” I yanked off my shirt, tossed it aside.

“And ladies’ razors?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Just in case.” I nixed my shorts and joined my girl.

She bent at the waist, one foot propped on the stool, and dragged a razor up her soapy leg. I turned on the second shower head and stepped under the warm flow, my guts, my ticker, my gray matter, a muddy fucking mess of emotion.

I didn’t wash, intent on savoring every second of the show.

Humming a tune I didn’t recognize, Tuuli finished her left leg and went to work on the right, her ass aimed my direction, no inhibitions, offering a view I was not worthy of, but damn well grateful for.

My steel-hard cock throbbed like a greedy son of a bitch. I gave it a stroke, hoping to appease the bastard. He only wanted more.

Tuuli set the razor back on the shelf and threw an inviting smile over her shoulder before stepping under the spray. I closed in, wrapping my arms around her middle, cupping those tempting breasts, and pressing my raging hard-on between us.

Her head rolled to the side, offering her sweet skin like a feast for the starving. I wasted no time tasting her shoulder, her neck, that sensitive spot behind her ear. The moan that rose from her throat set my blood on fire.

“Baby,” I whispered against her neck. “I need you.”

“I’m yours, take me,” I begged, the contrast of his soft lips and scratchy beard driving me mad.

A deep, needy moan rumbled from his chest.

Seeking more, I arched my back, forcing my butt against his hard body, my chest harder into his grip. I loved the way he held me—resolute, tense, hungry, and vibrating with restraint.

A strong hand slid down my stomach, lower still, stopping when his palm cupped my sex and one finger slid along my folds, playing me in slow strokes, up and down, soft, then firm, forcing blood and need to the bundle of nerves that had the power to destroy me from the inside out.

One strong finger slid inside. I moaned, grinding against the friction.

Tito mumbled profanities into my neck, then turned me around and took my mouth, the silk of his tongue tangling with mine, his arms a vise around my waist, melding us together. The kiss ended too soon, his mouth moving down my neck to my chest, then lower, lower, nipping my waist, my stomach, my navel. Tito dropped to his knees, worshiping every inch of my skin with his lips, his hands, his heady profanities.

I curled my fingers through his wet hair. His eyes lifted to mine, lids half mast, dark with lust.

I swear he smiled before burying his face between my thighs, his tongue plunging between my folds. No playing around or working me up, he went straight to the main event, attacking my clit with tongue and teeth, sucking, then flicking, then grazing. My head fell back, my hips thrust forward, my legs weakened.

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