Captured(54)

That was only the very beginning, of course. I’m still aching inside. My core aches. I came twice, but it wasn’t enough. I need more. So, so much more.

But for this moment, I’m loving being held, being outside in the golden afternoon sunlight. Being this close to Derek, his heart thumping faintly under my ear. I don’t know how much time passes with us just lying here like this. I don’t know, and I don’t care. It’s quiet and calm and pleasant.

But down deep, beneath the warm, buzzing layer of contentedness and muzzy happiness and self-satisfaction, there’s a burning. A fierce ache. I’m impatient. Needy. Desperate and frantic. It’s like a kind of panic. My sex drive is coming awake, igniting, coming alive, having been buried for so long. I’ve gone a long time without, and I’ve pushed down my urges, but no more. I feel a leviathan within me, swimming up to the surface from the dark depths, and this time it will no longer be denied.

I NEED more, and I won’t stop until I’m sated.

I can’t help myself. I let go of his hand and untangle our fingers. My eyes blink open, and I shift so I can look up at him. Watch him and see the effect I have on him. His penis is draped over his thigh, flaccid, curling to one side a bit. His eyes are on mine, hooded and waiting. I force myself to do this slowly, even though I want him inside me NOW, but I don’t even know if he has a condom. I sure don’t. I wasn’t thinking about that when we left the house, although I should’ve.

Damn. Now that I’m thinking, my brain won’t shut off. “Derek?”

“Hmmm?”

“Should we head back? I don’t have a condom.”

He grins. “I was being maybe a bit hopeful, but I brought some.”

“Some?”

He stretches, snags his jeans, gropes in one of the back pockets. Pulls out a string of four packets.

“Wow. So when did you put those in your pocket?” I think back, wondering when he could’ve done that.

Not that it matters, because I’m grateful he did. I like it out here, and I don’t want to go back yet.

“When you went out to talk to Hank.” He pauses to think, then resumes. “Just…I didn’t bring you out here just for this. To have sex with you. You just seemed so upset, so confused, that I figured you’d want to get away for a bit. So I thought we’d just come out and talk, cuddle or whatever. But I grabbed the condoms because I thought maybe—f*ck it…because I hoped we’d eventually do this. And I wanted to be ready if and when we did.”

He brought four condoms, but was ready to just cuddle? God, what a man. “I’m glad you thought of it.”

I’m stuck in a conundrum now. I want him, but I don’t want to make the first move. I don’t want to be the aggressor. Taking over earlier was fun, and it was something I needed, I think, just to find that part of myself. But now? I want the bold and dominant Derek back. But I don’t want to say so. I want him to just…know what I want and give it to me. Not fair of me, probably.

Maybe I’ll give him a little hint. Besides, I’m eager to touch him some more. I trace my index finger along the curve of his softened dick. At my touch, it responds, and what happens next is fascinating. I trace the length again, following a seam in the skin, and his cock flinches. Hardens, rolls off his thigh as if alive, thickens, straightens. I graze the tip of it with my thumb, touch the tiny hole and scrape just inside it with my thumbnail, then follow the groove beneath the head.

Within seconds, he’s at half-mast.

I look back up at him and find his eyes on me, watching my hand as I fondle him into erection. I smile at him, take his tightening girth into my palm and stroke him once. I blink up at him, the picture of innocence.

“God, Reagan. How can you be so f*cking sexy?”

I just shrug. He shakes his head as if he can’t believe me, as if to say, Damn, girl.

Somehow, with no warning, I’m on my back, his dick still in my hand. But he’s above me, leaning over me, his body pressed against the length of mine. He’s still beside me, though, not really on top of me. But he will be. Oh, boy. Please? I hold my breath in anticipation as his hand finds my boob, caresses, fondles, massages. Tweaks my nipple erect. The other. I’m not panting yet, but I’m breathing kinda hard through my nose. I don’t move. I’ve got his cock, but right now I’m really just holding on to him for something to hold on to, and because I like his dick. But right now, this is totally his show. I’m just waiting with bated breath as he moves his hand down my stomach, pausing to trace lovingly—yes, lovingly—those marks I was so nervous about earlier. How silly of me. He can no more get enough of me than I can of him, and he can’t take his eyes off me, can’t keep his hands off me. How could I have thought Derek would find any part of me unattractive?

I let out a relieved, anticipatory gasp as his long middle finger finds my folds. I let my thighs slide apart, draw my heels up to the backs of my thighs and let my knees fall apart, wantonly inviting him to do as he wishes with my body. What he wishes, it seems, is to tease me. For the next several minutes, he fondles and fingers every part of my *, but he doesn’t let me find a rhythm, doesn’t let me have the rush of thrill. He just touches me, and as soon as I start to moan, start to pant and let my hips grind, he does something else. He slides his finger inside me, curls and thrusts, and I groan, lift my hips off the ground, and then his touch is moving to my clit, circling, flicking, circling, flicking, and I want him to either circle or flick and keep at it, but he won’t, and I’m getting loopy with needing him to stop teasing me and just let me come. But he doesn’t. He’s got his mouth on my tits, all over them, not just the nipple, either, his tongue sliding up the mounded flesh to trace around my nipple, licking my areola, taking a mouthful of my boob and suckling, then spitting it out and moving to the other side.