Sand Angel Page 0,22
hips, her knees. Kicking her tennis shoes off before she shimmied out of her shorts, one foot at a time.
Drew couldn’t believe it. Zoë stood bare-assed beneath the moon. He stepped out of his sandals. He couldn’t wait any longer.
“Fuck me, Drew.” She held her arms out.
He had never had so much trouble with a damn button like he did when he tried to undo his cutoffs. All thumbs, he shook. It felt like forever before he was as naked as she. Sand squeezed between his toes as he went to her.
When their bodies touched it was an explosion of sensations. Her hands were everywhere. He couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t touch her fast enough and couldn’t kiss her deep enough to quench his thirst. He loved the way she pulled his tongue into her mouth and sucked on it. Just the thought of her sweet lips around his dick, taking him deep, made him tighten his ass cheeks, praying not to lose control before he satisfied her—took her to heaven.
With a finger he traced the crevice of her ass and around the puckered skin of her anus. The tight spot flexed and he wondered if she had ever been touched, fucked, in that forbidden zone. At the thought, blood filled his scrotum, pulling his balls tight against the base of his pulsing erection.
“Baby, I need to taste you.” He was already guiding her backward toward the quad.
The sound of a rail roared. Headlights bouncing as it hit one dip and then another. But the riders didn’t stop, didn’t see the two naked lovers beneath the stars.
Drew pushed the helmets off the bike seat, before he picked Zoë up and sat her sideways on the seat of the quad.
“Spread your legs for me,” he demanded as her hands rested on the seat. Slowly, achingly slow, she began to part them. Another growl erupted in his throat. “Open them wide, so I can see what I’ve been missing.”
“Drew…” His name was a whimper on her trembling lips as she spread her thighs.
His cock ached, angry and hard, needing to sink into the softness before him. But he had to taste her essence. “Are you wet for me, Zoë?”
She cried out at his words, her head lolling back. Her breasts were lovely pushed forward. Even in the moonlight he could see her swollen folds moist with arousal.
Damn. She looked like she was on the verge of climax and he hadn’t even touched her.
Her breathing was short, quick inhales. “Please. I can’t wait.” One of her feet wedged on a front tire, the other on a back tire of the bike, making her vulnerable to his desire. Exactly the way he wanted her.
“How wet are you, baby?” He bent between her thighs and blew a long stream of warm air against her pussy.
She nearly came off the seat. Her entire body shook wildly. “Wet. Oh. God. W-wet.”
“So pretty. Mmmm…” He could smell her arousal. The sweet scent of woman.
His woman.
“Drew. Touch me.” Her voice was husky with anticipation, or was it desperation? Her firm ass squirmed against the seat, as if she sought to ease the ache between her thighs.
This was too exciting. He had never had a woman climax by the sound of his voice. Could he make her scream without even touching her?
“I’m going to touch you and so much more.” He blew once more on her swollen folds. Again she raised her hips from the seat. “I’ll trace the soft lips of your pussy with my tongue.”
Her eyes closed. Her facial features contorted, twisted as if in pain. “Drew.” His name came out on a cry. As her tongue slid across her bottom lip, she opened her eyes and looked at him. They glistened with unshed tears.
“Would you like me to part your folds, taste the honey hidden between them, baby?”
Zoë moaned and the deep release turned him on. She thrust her hips, trying to make contact with his mouth a whisper away.
“Yes. Please,” she begged.
Her need was making him impossibly harder. His balls wedged between his legs were tender, so tender he widened his feet to ease the discomfort. They were both longing for that moment their bodies came together, but he couldn’t turn back now.
“Is your clit sensitive?” In the darkness he couldn’t see it. But he knew it would be full, erect, waiting for him. “If I flicked my tongue over it, wrapped my lips around it, would you scream out my name?”
The mention of the sensitive