Calmly, Carefully, Completely(57)

A whimper that doesn’t even sound human leaves my throat, and I pull him back to me by sucking his lower lip into my mouth. I tongue his piercing, and he growls low in his throat. I rock against his thigh, and he takes his hands from my face and puts them on my bottom so he can tug me forward on his knee. He presses just the right spot, and I lift my face to gasp, trying to find enough breath to keep my runaway heart thumping, my head falling back against the stall door. He’s taking all of my weight now because my legs would never support me even if he did let me go. His lips tickle across my chin and down the side of my neck, and he looks into my eyes as he tugs the tie at my hip and parts my dress. His hands are hot and hard as they encircle my waist, squeezing gently, not asking for my permission, but he has it. There’s no doubt about it.

He looks into my face as he raises his hand and cups my bra, his thumb tracking across my nipple. I take his hand in mine and press it harder against my breast. He growls into the side of my throat and freezes. He stops, inhaling and exhaling. I take his face in my hands and pull him back to me, but he backs his face away. “Just a second,” he pleads. “I need just a second.” He’s breathing as hard as I am.

But I don’t want to give him a second. I tug the cup of my bra down and bare my breast for him. Pete bends his head and takes my nipple into his mouth. He hums as he gives it a tug, his lips insistent as he suckles, his tongue flicking against the turgid flesh. I can’t think. I can’t stop the whimpers that escape my throat. “Pete,” I cry. He grabs my bottom and pulls me further forward, then pushes my belly until I lie back against the stall door. He looks down at my panties, and I can see the wet spot on the pink fabric. I close my eyes.

He takes my chin in his left hand and makes me look at him. “Open your eyes,” he says.

I shake my head.

He withdraws from me. “Don’t!” I cry. I need him. I don’t know what to do with this need. “I’m scared,” I say quietly. I’m not scared of Pete. I’m scared of myself. Because I’d do just about anything he asked me to do right now.

His thumb brushes the front of my panties, and my mouth falls open at the sensation. No one has ever touched me like this before. Never with such soft, sinful, sweet hands. His thumb presses my panties into my crease, and he rubs against my clit, the abrasion of the fabric not nearly enough. He kisses me, and I breathe against his lips.

“Can I put my hand inside your panties?” he asks. He nips my ear when he does it, and I cry out. I nod into his neck, moving as close to him as I can get. His hand slides between my panties and my skin, and I press my bottom closer to him, giving him more access. “So wet,” he says. I squeeze my eyes shut. His fingers trail through my wetness, and then they find that little button of pleasure that has been thumping since his lips first touched mine.

He presses the pad of his middle finger against me, his touch gentle but insistent. “Pete,” I cry.

“Reagan,” he breathes. He kisses me again, but it’s broken by my breaths, which stutter past my lips. I can’t think. I can’t talk. I can only take the pleasure he gives me. “Come for me, Reagan,” he breathes against my lips.

Then I break. I nip his lower lip when I come, and he growls, thrusting his tongue into my mouth as he absorbs my every shudder, my every gasp, my every quiver. I rock against his hand, pressing against him as he plies me. I tuck my head into his shoulder, my arms around his neck, as he wrings every last bit of pleasure from my body until I’m spent and heavy against him, still quivering, still shaking, still…in love with him. I mewl into his neck, and he hums. When my body stills, he pulls his hand from my panties, lifts me so that my legs wrap around his hips, and he stands up. Then he sits down on a bale of hay with me straddling his lap.