Olivia Cunning - Tell Me

“You should probably get your fish,” she said, apparently oblivious to the turn his thoughts had taken. Or maybe she thought he needed a distraction to keep him from tackling her to the deck and having his way with her.

While she worked at getting herself partially dried, Gabe reeled in his line, glad that the fish had stolen his bait and escaped. He didn’t feel much like fishing anymore. He felt like getting lost in Melanie. Maybe it was time to head home.

Something damp smacked him in the back of the head. He peeled Melanie’s wet tank top off his neck and spun to look at her. She was wrapped in the towel, but knowing that she was half naked beneath it did tent-like things to the front of his shorts.

She wriggled beneath the towel, squatted down, and then sent her wet shorts sailing in his direction. He caught them in one hand.

“Would you mind spreading those out to dry?” she asked.

He dropped her wet clothes in a small heap on the deck and took two steps in her direction.

“Gabe,” she said, one hand extended, “don’t look at me like that.”

Like what? Like he wanted to devour her whole? Like he was about to shove her down on the deck and fuck her until she screamed his name? How was he looking at her exactly? She couldn’t expect him to behave when his emotions were on high and she was in nothing but her bra and panties beneath a towel. Especially when they were in this secluded cove that happened to be void of all humans except for the two of them.

“Take your panties off,” he said.

“I was just going to let those dry on my body,” she said.

“Take them off.” He knocked his cowboy hat off his head as he mindlessly shed his shirt.

“Gabe, I’m not going to take my panties off.”

He took another step closer and reached for her, pulling her against him. “Do you want me to rip them off you?”

He reached inside her towel and caught the top of her panties in one hand and gave them a sharp tug. She stared up at him as if in a trance.

“Do you?” He lowered his hand so that his middle finger slid into her cleft.

Her mouth dropped open in shock.

“Where’s your daring, Mel?” he asked, fisting his hand in her panties and stopping just short of ripping the fabric. “You’ll come for me in the bathroom at work, but not here?”

Her fingertips slid down his belly, bumping over muscles on their way to the elastic at the waist of his shorts.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” she whispered.

She tugged the front of his shorts down, scraping the entire length of his cock until it sprang free between them. She slid her hand between his legs to cup his heavy balls in her palm. He gasped as she massaged them gently. The fear of pain—should she get a little too rough with those overly sensitive parts—fueled his excitement.

He tried to lower her panties, but he was immobilized by the feel of her hand fondling him, exciting him. Driving him mad with need.

“You didn’t think I’d do this here, did you?” she said in that sultry voice she used when they were being naughty on the phone. “Touch you like this? Want you to touch me in the same way?”

“Thanks for being full of surprises,” he said breathlessly.

She grinned at him, tossed the towel over her head to hide her face, and began a slow descent, sucking kisses down the center of his chest, his belly, and lower. She dropped to her knees, her head and upper body still hidden beneath the towel, and grasped his throbbing cock in one hand. When her soft wet tongue began to dance over the head of his cock, he groaned in bliss.

He reached to pull the towel back and tossed it aside, wanting to watch as she suckled and licked his head. And he did watch, watched as she worked him, watched as she stroked and sucked, making him shake and pulse with need. Seeing her kneeling at his feet, the brilliant sunshine kissing her lovely face and her lips stretched wide as she drew his cock deep inside her hot, wet mouth, was finally his undoing.

She squeaked in surprise when he pulled free of her mouth, jerked her to her feet, and shoved her down into the seat that ran around the front hull. He yanked at her panties, his mouth descending on her mound before he even had the garment to her ankles.

“Gabe! Get the towel. Someone will see,” she said.

She tried to close her legs on his head, but he held them wide open with his shoulders.

“Keep an eye out,” he said. “You’ll be able to see anyone’s approach long before they see us.”

The muscles of her thighs relaxed, and she grasped his scalp with both hands.

“God, why does this make me so hot for you?” she whispered.

He tilted his head to look up at her from between her thighs. She wasn’t keeping an eye out at all. She was gazing down at him with glassy eyes. He wished he could watch her face while he ate her out, but a man had to have priorities. He teased her opening with sweeps of his tongue, suckled and nibbled and licked her clit and her swollen lips, and then savored the sweet well between them.

When her body shuddered with release, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her ass off the seat, seeking entry. She reached between her thighs and guided his rigid cock home. He sank into her, vaguely thinking that she couldn’t be very comfortable, hanging halfway off the seat like that, but she felt so good inside that he couldn’t fight the instinct to thrust. When her heels dug into his ass to urge him deeper, he didn’t give her position another thought. The entire world vanished except for her soft, slick, warm flesh. And her little moans of pleasure. And her gaze locked with his. She was all there was and as he claimed her, grinding his hips to work himself in as deeply as possible, she was all he wanted and everything he needed.

He gasped as his climax neared, catching him by surprise. He shifted one hand to her mound so he could massage her clit with his thumb. He wanted her to join him in ecstasy. We should always come together, he thought as she cried out and her pussy squeezed his cock. And then his mind went blank as his body strained against hers and he flowed into her, not just physically—he could have done that with any woman—but spiritually and emotionally. He was all tangled up inside Melanie Anderson, in dozens of ways, and it was a puzzle he never wanted to solve.

After a moment, Melanie struggled upright and Gabe shifted so that his softening cock slipped free of her body. He sat on the deck and pulled her down to his lap, where she sat facing him, her heat nestled against his damp cock. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest.

“God, that was sexy,” she murmured.

It had been—he couldn’t deny it—but had she felt any of the emotional or spiritual attachment that he felt? If she had, she didn’t say so, and so neither did he. But he held her close and marveled at the beauty of making love to Melanie. It was so different from how he’d experienced sex with other women. Even long-term girlfriends whom he’d once loved hadn’t been like this. No one compared to Melanie; he had to find a way to make her his. And not just for a weekend or a month or a year. He wanted her always. There was no way he’d ever be satisfied with anyone else after knowing this feeling of completeness. After having her.

“What’s that sound?” Melanie said and lifted her head. She cocked it to one side, listening.

Now that Gabe had been jerked out of his own headspace, he heard it too. It wasn’t just one sound, but a mix of rattling, munching, slobbery lapping, and swallowing.

“Lady,” he called, “are you in the cooler eating our lunch?”

All the sounds stopped abruptly, replaced by the thumping of a tail against the deck. Gabe twisted and glanced over his shoulder.

Yep, Lady had been in the cooler. There was nothing left of their lunch but crumbs, wrappers, and empty containers. The dog looked proud of her accomplishment, the telltale sign of mayonnaise from the potato salad glistening white on her muzzle.

“Was it good?” Gabe asked.

Lady barked and licked her lips.

Melanie laughed and buried her face in his chest again. “She’s a really smart dog.”

“Yeah, she waits until I’m completely distracted and then steals my fried chicken.”

“I wasn’t hungry anyway,” Melanie said.

“Let’s head back home and I’ll take you out for a nice dinner. Without the dogs.”

“Okay,” she said. “I probably should get out of the sun. I’m not used to it and feel a bit overheated.”

“Me too,” he said, but the inferno blazing inside him had nothing to do with sun and everything to do with the woman on his lap.

While waiting for Melanie to dress for their evening out, Gabe sat on the porch and tossed a ball across the yard. Lady chased it, ears flying back, muscles bunching, tail wagging as she darted across the wide span of grass toward the gravel road. She tackled the bouncing ball with her front paws, picked it up in her slobbery mouth and trotted back, her sleek black head held high with pride. She dropped the ball at Gabe’s feet and gently mauled the back of Beau’s neck, trying unsuccessfully to rouse him from his sleepy daze next to Gabe’s hip on the top step. When all the excitement Lady got out of her mate was a halfhearted swipe of his paw at the back of one floppy ear, she barked.

“I don’t think he wants to play,” Gabe told Lady, retrieving the damp, grass-speckled tennis ball from between his feet and tossing it across the yard for her again. She bounded off to fetch it while Gabe gave the more sedate of his two dogs a hearty scratch behind the ears.