Lovely Trigger by R. K. Lilley

pulled his head back, and I bit his neck, rubbing my torso into his.  
    “Please,” he whispered hoarsely.  
    That one small request had me pulling back just far enough to look at him.   A bright lantern light shone down at us, and I took in our surroundings.  
    We were on the back porch of the ranch house, and Tristan was pushing my hips away from his, setting me on the thick rail that ran the length of the patio.   Confused and disoriented, I let him.  
    I swallowed hard, opening my mouth to say God only knows what when his hands shot to the hem of my lavender bridesmaid dress, yanking it up over my hips.  
    That effectively squelched my urge to try to speak.  
    We were rushing headlong into this lunacy, and I could worry about the mess we made later.  
    I wanted this, needed this like I hadn’t needed anything since I’d cauterized all of the joy from my life.  
    He pulled the dress straight up, flipping it all the way over my head until my arms were effectively restrained.   I didn’t know, or care, if that had been his intent.  
    He unsnapped the front clasp of my bra, moaning and bending down to suck one quivering globe into his mouth.   His hands fumbled with his belt and fly.   He groaned, and I gasped as his freed erection sprang into my stomach.  
    Big fingers shoved my panties to the side, and the tip of him was pushing into me as he raised his head and took my mouth again.   He didn’t hesitate, didn’t ask if I was sure I wanted to do this.
    I was relieved, because a crash this brutal could handle no brakes at all.  
    He reared back, then drove forward, burying his cock in me with one hard stroke.  
    The world stopped as we took what we needed, what I’d been starved for since the very last time I’d been in his arms.  
    It was a frenzied mating, a swift coming together that took me to the fever pitch of ecstasy with a few rough, heavy strokes, over too soon, the perfect testament to our torrid love affair.
    We didn’t move for a very long time after we finished, and more importantly, we didn’t speak.   Words would break the spell.   Words were reality.   This was a stolen moment, and I wanted to keep it as safe from reality as possible.  
    My forehead had fallen to his shoulder at some point, and what felt like his cheek was pressed to the top of my head.   He didn’t pull out, the only movement between us the aftereffects of his member still twitching deep inside of me.
    We stayed like that for what could have been minutes or an hour.   I had no idea what he could be thinking, and I was trying hard not to think about anything but the moment at hand, and the pleasure of being in his arms for this tiny foray of ours into utter lunacy.  
    It was the first impulsive thing I’d done in years, and boy was it a doozy.
    “Danika,” he finally spoke, his voice hoarse but soft.
    I sighed heavily, pulling back.   The spell was broken.  
    I couldn’t look him in the eye and looking down was a no go, so I looked over his shoulder as I spoke.   “Can you put my dress back on?   We need to get back.   We’re both in the wedding party, so I’m sure we’ll be missed.”  
    His hands moved to start righting my gown and still he didn’t pull out.   I would have tried to shift away, but I was afraid it would just lead to another indiscretion.  
    “Danika,” he said again, his voice very soft and very sad.  
    God, it was flooring how just listening to that deep voice of his could captivate me.   For just the sound of his voice alone, I could have stayed glued to that spot indefinitely.  
    I shook the thought off, calling myself a fool.      
    “I need a minute alone, if you don’t mind.   I’m going to go clean up.”  
    He tried to kiss me, but I turned my head away.   “My dress, please.”   My voice wasn’t sharp, in fact, it was gentle, but I saw him flinch out of the corner of my eye.  
    How did he always do that?   Make me want to take back whatever