Bleeding Love(71)

He moved down from the trail we had just been climbing and started to take the steep dirt path downward. Not paying a bit of attention to the trail because I was too focused on wondering how hard it would be to get myself off using his body and the vibrations, when his nose end hit the mud first, a huge wave of brown wetness covered us. And of course, because I was too busy trying to work at getting myself off, my back was arched. I had, in my mind, the best plan to arch my back and rub my core against the seat and his hard body. But when that mud wave came up and then back down, it shot straight down the back of my pants.

“Oh, my God, Lee!”

He doesn’t answer, just laughs harder. So hard, in fact, that he has to stop the four-wheeler.

“This isn’t funny! I have mud . . . oh my God . . . I have mud in my ass!”

His laughter picks up until he is forced to hold his sides.

“Holy crap. I can feel it. It’s all in my panties, Lee!”

Again, the big jerk just keeps on laughing until he has to pull his shirt up, flip it to the inside and wipe the tears his laughing has caused, rolling down his face.

“I swear, Liam Beckett. I was this close, this freaking close,” I scream, holding my pointer finger just an inch from my thumb, “To having one hell of an orgasm. It was building so high, I was too busy wondering if I would fall off the back when I went off. This freaking close and now . . . now I have mud in my ASS!”

Too busy flipping out, I didn’t even notice when Lee stopped laughing. That is, until he moved and jumped from the seat. He reached out, grabbed my hips and in a move I still can’t process, his ass was back in the seat with me facing him. Our muddy covered chests pressed tight and his mouth on mine in a bruising kiss.

All of the mud is forgotten as his lips plunder mine. My fingers curl into his shoulders and I moan deep into his mouth.

He pulls back and searches my eyes.

“How was that feel trip, Megan?” he says in a growl, the soft look in his eyes betrayed by how forceful he spoke.

“Huh?” I ask in a daze.

“Fuck me,” he says hoarsely. “Fucking, fuck me.”

“That . . . uh, would be nice, but seeing as I have mud in places mud shouldn’t be, I would be worried about infection.” I tell him in all seriousness.

“Fuck.”

“Yup.”

“I didn’t want to stop so soon, but I take it by the fact that you laughed so hard before that last puddle that I have no doubt you felt and all that you were feeling was nothing but excitement. You took something you were dead set wouldn’t be a bit of fun, braved it, and had fun. That is until I ruined your orgasm, so as far as I can see my job here is done and I should make up for that lost release.”

“Uh, baby, I’m not following,” I tell him.

“I imagine you aren’t. Feel trip over, darlin’. We get back home, I show you my list and then I fuck you hard.”

“Your list?”

“Yeah. My list is about to change. My girl feels, freely and happily, with no small amount of brave courage. Time to take that list and turn it into a bucket.”

“You make no sense.”

He just smiles and nods. When we situate ourselves back on the seat, he takes the trails at a slower speed, but none less exciting, until we reach his truck. He loads his ATV back up in the bed of his truck, and then walks over to me.

“Get naked,” he orders with a wave of his brow.

I look around, seeing nothing but trees and sky, and then because I’m too busy wondering about his list and bucket riddles, I pull my mud soaked shirt over my head. His eyes shoot straight to my chest and I smirk to myself when he groans.

“Towel,” he barks after I wrestle my wet jeans down. He wraps a clean towel around my body, then folds at the knees to help me step out of my pants. “Leave your panties on. I know it isn’t comfortable with the mud and all, but if you take them off I wouldn’t even care if it was a dirty fuck, I would take you so hard.”

“Ohhh kay, so they stay on,” I sarcastically draw out.

“While I get ready. Pull the glove box open and grab my list. Mark off number three, and then take a look. Pick which ones you want to experience together, then cross off the ones you don’t. Then our list becomes a bucket.”

“Do you mean bucket list? What? Did you have one before? I don’t think they work like that, Lee. You can’t take your bucket list for yourself and make it a couples project.”

He doesn’t respond; too busy peeling his mud-soaked clothes off before wrapping a towel around his hips. I roll my eyes and move to climb into his truck, pressing the latch on his glove box and reaching in to grab the solo piece of paper on top of his owner’s manual.