It’s cool enough that I’m shivering in my thin tank top, though he looks fine, still dressed in his thick woolen sweater, which aside from being a little damp, seems no worse for the wear. I slosh through a foot of water to reach his side, and tug at the hem. “This seems an unfair advantage.”
“Do you need my sweater?” he asks, pulling it over his head. To my disappointment, he’s still wearing a thin undershirt beneath. Though, on the bright side, it’s damp enough that it clings to his muscles, and where I hit him with a particularly big splash on his stomach, the white fabric is see-through, revealing his chiseled abs. They look even more perfectly formed in daylight than when I ran my hands over them the other night, on his darkened couch.
He’s still holding the sweater, extended toward me like an offering. I take it from him and toss it onto the far bank beside my own. “You won’t be needing that.” I grin.
He steps closer to me, closing the final gap between us. We stand face-to-face now, my head tilted back so I can stare up at him, as the steam eddies around our knees, the current gentle, the water just cold enough to make my nipples stand at attention, and goosebumps prickle my skin. His arms wrap around my waist so my stomach presses against his belt buckle.
. . . Oh. That’s not his belt buckle.
My grin widens. “You know,” I say, conversationally, “I never did get revenge for the confessional booth.”
His eyes go wide, before they dart around us, taking in what I’ve already noticed. A copse of autumn trees shields us from view of the only road nearby, a low footbridge that passes over the stream. We haven’t seen another hiker for almost an hour.
But there are still the houses behind the stream, their windows lined up at just the right angle to see us. If anyone happened to be looking outside at this hour of the day, which, come on, who would be at home moping at a window on a day like today?
“It’s broad daylight,” he hisses. “Anyone could walk past us right now.” But I’m already pushing him backwards, both hands on his chest. He stumbles out of the stream onto the bank, and I drop to my knees before him, my hands fumbling at the zipper on his jeans.
“This is a terrible idea, Harper,” he says, louder this time. But he doesn’t try to stop me as I draw open his fly and push his pants around his knees.
He’s rock hard already; I let my fingers drift over him, through the thin fabric of his boxers, toying with him while I catch his eyes and smile. Without warning, I yank his boxers down too, keeping my eyes on his.
“Christ,” he hisses.
Protests aside, he can’t help the spark that flares in his eyes, or the telltale part of his lips, anticipating what I’m about to do to him. I savor holding the power this time, as I dip my head to trace my tongue around the base of his cock, letting his shaft brush my cheek, tickling him with my hair.
I keep going like that until he’s nearly panting, his hands fisted in my hair, clenching when I lick all the way up his shaft to flick my tongue across his tip. God he tastes good. Like salt and musk.
Then I draw back, just enough to let him feel the cool fall air on the spot I’ve just tasted.
“Harper . . . ” His eyes have gone dark, feral.
I love making him do that. My smile widens. “Beg,” I say.
He scowls at me, but I am unmoved. This is payback for the confessional. For all the times he’s driven me completely wild.
He’s got more patience than I do, though. Or he’s more stubborn. Same thing. He clenches his jaw, and even though I can tell it’s driving him nuts, he doesn’t say anything, just watches me watching him. “All you have to do is ask nicely,” I say, letting my lips brush his shaft as I talk.
His throat constricts as he swallows hard. “Please,” he breathes out, like a surrender.
Good enough for me. I swallow him whole.
Jack
The moment she takes me into her mouth, I’m gone. Her tongue circles my cock, her warm hands cup my balls, squeeze them hard enough that I grunt. Without thinking, I fist my hand in her hair and thrust into her mouth. She swallows me without protest, so deep I can feel the back of her throat before she pulls away, almost completely releasing me, then sucks me deep into her mouth again.
We move like that, the burning heat of her mouth a sharp contrast to the freezing cold water still dripping down my chest and the sharp breeze picking up around us, until I can’t take it any longer. I groan her name through my teeth as I finish, and she keeps her lips tight around me, sucking every last ounce from me.
When she finally pulls back, I drop to my knees beside her. Looking at her like this, her cheeks flushed, hair mussed from where I couldn’t help gripping it, her eyes alight with pleasure, clearly savoring what she just did to me, I want to shove her into the grass and fuck her again right here. I pull her shirt up, ready to bend down and suck her nipple into my mouth. My cock already starts to twitch again, as the blood flows back into it.