he tugs them higher, revealing the bottom curve of my butt before he smooths his hand around and across my hip bone. Again, the material of my panties bunches up under his firm grasp, but he leaves it there, hiked up so it covers me—barely—as he continues his exploration of my body.
He gathers my t-shirt like a drape and pushes it up, revealing my taut stomach, which is quivering under his heavy gaze. I will myself to calm down, to stop shaking, but he’s seeing so much of me, even more as he pushes my shirt higher and reveals the bottom curves of my full breasts.
There’s too much to feel at once: the warmth of the fire behind me, the cool breeze blowing off the lake, the rough possessive way his hands heat my skin.
We’re still in a safe zone. Nothing has been revealed beyond what he’d see if I were in a skimpy bikini, but I’m scared of where we’ll go from here, scared to be on display so openly while he’s still cloaked in shadow. That’s when I realize he’s staying down there on purpose, as if kneeling before me, showing me rather than telling me he’s surrendering.
His hand curves around my ribcage so reverently my knees buckle, and it’s just as well because I want to be down there with him. I want to feel his broad tan chest, still bare from a day at the lake. His swim trunks are long dry and their cool material brushes against my panties as I nestle myself down onto his lap. I’m barely there for a moment before his hand slides around my back and he brings me in for a hug.
A hug.
An embrace that crushes me against him so tightly I think his toned arms might break me in two.
My eyes squeeze closed as I bury my face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in like I’m trying to absorb him through the air, but it’s not enough. I need more. I press a chaste kiss to his neck then one below his smooth jaw, and I’m about to press another kiss to his cheek when a growl escapes from deep in his chest and he yanks me back, sealing our mouths together.
A kiss that starts out hard and heavy only grows hotter. Scorching. His mouth slants over mine and I’m a hungry little minx—clawing at his skin, biting his lip, writhing against him.
His tongue touches mine and my entire body seems to clench in response.
Our kiss is unending and I can feel his hard length underneath me and I don’t sit still like I should. I brush back and forth along him as if I’m giving him a seductive lap dance. It works me up, moving on him like this, finally giving in to the urge to touch him like I’ve wanted to for all these weeks.
My hands are everywhere, roving over the ridge of hard muscle along his shoulders, sliding down his toned arms until our hands meet, warm palm against warm palm, our fingers entwining. He kisses me deeper as he squeezes once and then he lets go so his strong hands can move over my body, feeling my curves with greedy possession.
A ripple of pleasure runs through me as he gathers the sides of my t-shirt and yanks it up over my head. He flings it aside and for all I know it’s kindling now, but what do I care because his hands cover my bare breasts—finally—and he palms their heavy weight almost angrily, like he’s been waiting ages to have them in his grasp and his patience is all used up. I feel him grow harder, feel the resulting shudder as I reach between us and brush my hand across his length. Even with his swim trunks on, the thick ridge feels large and intimidating in my small hand.
I stroke him tentatively, imagining what it’ll feel like when he slides inside me, stretching and filling me. Our kisses start to burn hotter as his hands grow more and more impatient, toying with me.
I work my hand faster, stroking him lazily back and forth, and then suddenly he picks me up off him and sets me down on the blanket so he can crawl over me, covering my warm skin with his. His hands are on either side of my head and he keeps his weight off me just enough that I won’t be crushed but not so much that his