muscles massaging him like a glove. If she kept this up he was going to come too damned fast. He bit his lip, focusing on the pain to keep from letting go and not be distracted by Allie’s panted whimpers.
With his free hand he grasped her hips and pulled her down tighter, rocking into her until every damned bit of him was covered, then he lifted her off and slammed inside her again.
On either side of his head, her arms shook, her body tightened, as the first flutters of orgasm overtook her. The whimpers changed to a moan, his or hers, he wasn’t sure. A flick of his thumb set her body shuddering as she lost herself in her own pleasure. He held her tight until she was plastered against his chest, his cock cushioned by her spasming pussy.
Before the last flutters of her orgasm died, he hooked his legs behind hers and rolled them both until he was on top. Something between them had changed—he’d swear he’d not grown, but they didn’t fit together the way they used to. He adjusted the angle, and she shifted too, and then all of a sudden they clicked.
He didn’t remember taking her hair out of its ponytail—maybe she’d done it without him noticing, but her hair fanned out over the blanket. It was darker than he remembered, straighter too, but he thanked whatever powers that she hadn’t cut it.
“Ben?” Her soft encouragement was accompanied by an impatient arch of her hips.
Unable to hold off, he sank deep inside her.
A thrust, two, and Allie arched up, her neck stretched, her breath frantic as his rhythm quickened. Sweat gathered on his shoulders, dripped down his arms, down his spine, an annoying tickle he used to prolong the pleasure of riding Allie. To draw out her second orgasm, and hold off his own.
It worked right up until she clamped her heels in his butt and surged beneath him. His balls drew up tight as her passage locked onto his shaft, the muscles rippling around his sensitive head. His body roared a “Hell yeah” and gave up the fight to hold off.
He crumpled on top of her, his cock still jerking deep in her depths, her breasts cushioning his sweat-dampened chest. Her body trembling as her own climax faded, Ben nibbled at the spot where her neck met her shoulder.
He hadn’t planned this—his dick had taken control when she’d jumped into his arms. And he definitely hadn’t planned to take her in the back of his truck, out in the open. Frankly, considering her accusation that someone had taped them the last time they’d made love out in the open, he was surprised she hadn’t whupped him up the side of the head and stalked off. But he hadn’t been able to resist when the old Allie—the fearless, balls-to-the-wall, live-life-to-its-fullest Allie—had reappeared.
He’d liked that Allie. Loved that Allie. Now he had to figure out who it was recovering beneath him—the conservative lawyer, who would be pissed off and hightail it back to Houston, or the Allie of old, who might be turned on enough to let him into her bedroom again.
Wait a minute. Was he really considering turning this one-time deal into a relationship? Even a short term one? He’d done one-night stands before, but not with Allie. She deserved more. Hell, he deserved more. He wanted more. Much more.
He was tired of being single, of coming home to an empty house. He wanted a life, a family, something other than cattle and crops. He wanted to someone to curl up with at night, to smile at him from across the breakfast—and dinner—table. Someone to talk to him, listen to him. Someone who would sing off key in that big-ass shower he’d had built.
Unwilling to break their tenuous connection yet, Ben shifted his weight over Allie and rested his head on her shoulder. He needed to move—the sun was baking his ass. It would hurt like a sumbitch if he got sunburnt. Just like he’d get hurt again if he let Allie back into his life. Losing Brittany the year before hadn’t hurt half as much as when Allie had disappeared
With his free hand he grasped her hips and pulled her down tighter, rocking into her until every damned bit of him was covered, then he lifted her off and slammed inside her again.
On either side of his head, her arms shook, her body tightened, as the first flutters of orgasm overtook her. The whimpers changed to a moan, his or hers, he wasn’t sure. A flick of his thumb set her body shuddering as she lost herself in her own pleasure. He held her tight until she was plastered against his chest, his cock cushioned by her spasming pussy.
Before the last flutters of her orgasm died, he hooked his legs behind hers and rolled them both until he was on top. Something between them had changed—he’d swear he’d not grown, but they didn’t fit together the way they used to. He adjusted the angle, and she shifted too, and then all of a sudden they clicked.
He didn’t remember taking her hair out of its ponytail—maybe she’d done it without him noticing, but her hair fanned out over the blanket. It was darker than he remembered, straighter too, but he thanked whatever powers that she hadn’t cut it.
“Ben?” Her soft encouragement was accompanied by an impatient arch of her hips.
Unable to hold off, he sank deep inside her.
A thrust, two, and Allie arched up, her neck stretched, her breath frantic as his rhythm quickened. Sweat gathered on his shoulders, dripped down his arms, down his spine, an annoying tickle he used to prolong the pleasure of riding Allie. To draw out her second orgasm, and hold off his own.
It worked right up until she clamped her heels in his butt and surged beneath him. His balls drew up tight as her passage locked onto his shaft, the muscles rippling around his sensitive head. His body roared a “Hell yeah” and gave up the fight to hold off.
He crumpled on top of her, his cock still jerking deep in her depths, her breasts cushioning his sweat-dampened chest. Her body trembling as her own climax faded, Ben nibbled at the spot where her neck met her shoulder.
He hadn’t planned this—his dick had taken control when she’d jumped into his arms. And he definitely hadn’t planned to take her in the back of his truck, out in the open. Frankly, considering her accusation that someone had taped them the last time they’d made love out in the open, he was surprised she hadn’t whupped him up the side of the head and stalked off. But he hadn’t been able to resist when the old Allie—the fearless, balls-to-the-wall, live-life-to-its-fullest Allie—had reappeared.
He’d liked that Allie. Loved that Allie. Now he had to figure out who it was recovering beneath him—the conservative lawyer, who would be pissed off and hightail it back to Houston, or the Allie of old, who might be turned on enough to let him into her bedroom again.
Wait a minute. Was he really considering turning this one-time deal into a relationship? Even a short term one? He’d done one-night stands before, but not with Allie. She deserved more. Hell, he deserved more. He wanted more. Much more.
He was tired of being single, of coming home to an empty house. He wanted a life, a family, something other than cattle and crops. He wanted to someone to curl up with at night, to smile at him from across the breakfast—and dinner—table. Someone to talk to him, listen to him. Someone who would sing off key in that big-ass shower he’d had built.
Unwilling to break their tenuous connection yet, Ben shifted his weight over Allie and rested his head on her shoulder. He needed to move—the sun was baking his ass. It would hurt like a sumbitch if he got sunburnt. Just like he’d get hurt again if he let Allie back into his life. Losing Brittany the year before hadn’t hurt half as much as when Allie had disappeared
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