“The bra, Kayla. Take off the bra.”
My hands tremble as I move the straps off my shoulder. It feels awkward. The movies make this part seem so simple. I’ve taken my bra off a hundred times, but usually it’s from pulling the back clasp around and unhooking it. That seems like the stupidest and most unsexy thing I could do right now. Reaching back seems impossible unless I have a hidden contortionist gene somewhere that I’ve forgotten about. White must see the indecision on my face because he saves me by moving behind me and unhooking the bra. I hold the fabric against my breasts, afraid to move as his lips create a heated path over my back.
“Let go of the bra, Kayla,” he whispers from behind me. I want to, I really do, but I can’t manage it. He must give up on me because he reaches his hands around, cupping my breasts in each of his hands, and gathers the loose material up while trapping the nipples with his fingers. The tight pressure, mixed in with the silky feel of the fabric, causes my body to instantly demand more. I can feel the inside of my thighs grow wet with hunger. My hands go up, reaching behind me so my fingers can dive into the thickness of White’s hair. I feel his cock rubbing against my ass, the head leaving a heated wet path against the cheek. The heat of his body swamps me, making me feel deliciously wicked and needy all at the same time. “Put your hands against the tree and brace yourself, Kayla,” White orders.
I do it, barely able to hear the leaves crunching around us over the pounding of need in my ears. He maneuvers my body exactly the way he wants me. My fingers bite into the hard bark of the tree. My toes curl into our pile of clothes he arranged under us. I’m doing my best to remember to breathe when I feel his cock slide against my ass, dipping into the valley between my cheeks, pushing against the entrance. My body tightens, wondering exactly what he’s going to do.
“Soon,” he whispers, as if he’s reading my mind—and he probably is. The idea of White taking me like that, of him stretching me someplace that seems so forbidden, terrifies and excites me all at the same time. Before I can think more about it, or even question him, I feel the head of his cock slide around, and the tip pushes into my entrance. That’s it. Just the tip. I try to push back, wanting more, but he stops me by a firm hold on my hip.
“Please,” I beg, and I am begging. The one word is so needy, the voice doesn’t even sound like my own. My heart is threatening to pound out of my chest. I feel his hand wrap my hair around and around it. He yanks, pulling my head back, and I gasp at the pain.
“I got you, Kayla. I got you,” he whispers just as his cock plunges inside of me.
CHAPTER 41
WHITE
I’m losing myself inside her. The way we fit together is beyond anything I’ve experienced before. It’s more than physical, though the physical is fucking amazing. As I give myself over to my climax, allowing myself to go over the edge just as Kayla does, I hear her cry out my name.
“White. Don’t stop, never stop.”
“Never, sweetheart. Never,” I breathe, emptying myself inside of her. I find my hand in her hair again—touching it, wrapping my hand in it as if I have to stay connected to her like that. As we ride out our orgasm together, I welcome air into my lungs, air that is a combined scent of strawberries that will always be Kayla to me—and sex. I take it into my lungs and as it moves through my body, one fact settles into me: I’ll never be able to separate where I begin and she ends. She’s a part of me. The best part.
When she’s taken everything I have, I can’t bring myself to leave her. Instead, I keep us connected, slowly opening my eyes and finding myself staring straight at our initials I had carved earlier. The heart mocks me. I should have written the word love. I chickened out like a dumbass.
“White?”
“Shhh… don’t move.”
“I don’t want to, but…”
“But?”
“Shouldn’t we… get dressed?”
“Soon. Right now, I want to just stay inside of you, hold you like this, feeling your body against mine and remember.”
“Remember?”
“Remember the moment I put my child inside of you.”
“White. There’s no way of knowing—”
“I know. It was too special not to have happened, honey.”
“What if it didn’t?”
“It did.”
“But… if it didn’t?” she asks, and I press a kiss against the back of her neck before moving my mouth to her ear. I run my tongue along the shell, then suck the lobe into my mouth, teasing it with my tongue.