“Good God, darlin’! You’re going to be the death of me.”
“I’m sorry.” That quick, she scooted away.
“Damn!”
She picked up on the dismay in his voice. She straddled him again.
It was a struggle to find a normal tone. “Darlin’, would I be right in guessing you’re not unwilling anymore?” He stopped her hips from pushing against the head of his shaft.
“I never was.”
“That’s not strictly true, but I’ll keep that discussion for another day.” He took a breath as she rubbed against him again. His drawl wasn’t the steadiest as he asked, “Do you want to make love with me?”
“Yes.”
“Then lift up a minute.”
She did. He made short work of his belt and the buttons on his pants. He slid his hand inside and freed his aching cock. It sprang into the warm sunlight, straight and strong, reaching for her thinly clad pussy. He didn’t take his hand immediately away. She was staring at his cock, her eyes wide. Her tongue peeped out, moist and tempting. She ran it over her lips. His cock twitched and pulsed against his palm, lengthening further, wanting that moist heat wrapped around the sensitive head. He wanted that tongue stroking over the flared expanse, lapping the pre-come from the tip, sliding beneath the head to tease the sensitive underside. With a leisurely movement of his hips, he pumped in time with his mental image, driving his shaft upwards through his hand so it grazed the slit in her pantaloons, tormenting them both with the teasing contact.
She followed him down on the descent.
Light as a butterfly, she settled her dry warmth onto his shaft. He jerked when her small hand attempted to encompass his cock, and then stilled as she positioned him to the delicate opening of her pussy. She rocked on him, not hard enough to force a union, but hard enough to wedge the tip into the moistening valley. He slid his hands around her buttocks and stilled the relentless pushing of her hips.
She bit her lip, and shot him a confused glance. “It won’t go in.”
He could feel the tension building in her. It didn’t take a genius to see she was trying to do this perfectly. She was just too green to know she wasn’t ready or that he was supposed to have some fun getting her there.
He ducked her gaze, crossed his fingers, and then church-serious said, “I’m embarrassed to admit this, darlin’, but I’m not ready.”
“You were before.” She bounced a little. He kept her from doing damage by catching her hips in his hands.
“Men aren’t like women,” he explained. “They need kisses and sweet-talk before they can, well, perform.”
“You want me to sweet-talk you?”
“It would help.”
“If I kiss you, you’ll be ready?”
He struggled to hold onto his laughter. “I’d be warming up.”
Her fingers on his chest brushed his nipples; the tip of her nail snagged one before moving on. Fire flashed through his body. He couldn’t suppress a groan.
She latched onto the sound like a starving dog faced with a steak. She eyed his nipple, his lips, and then her breasts, discreetly covered in white. “You said before you’d want to kiss my bubbies?”
“No lie, I’d like to do that again. But, right now, I’d settle for a kiss.”
She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. Close-mouthed and dry, he didn’t find it much inspiration to anything except his amusement. He didn’t hide his disappointment.
She sat up. His erection glanced off her buttocks. He bit back another moan. She was sweet and earnest, and she was driving him crazy.
“I’m not doing this right.” Her voice was an agony of self-disgust.
He made an immediate decision to shake her of that worry. “How about we make a deal?”
“What?” Sharp as a tack, the woman had the intelligence to be suspicious. He’d have to be equally sharp if he didn’t want this afternoon dissolving into chaos.
“Seeing as how you’re green at this, why don’t we come to an agreement?”
“What?”
He combed her glorious hair through his fingers. It curled and bounced back into its previous pattern over her shoulders. Lord, he thought, even her hair was stubborn. “Why don’t we agree that I’ll tell you what I want, and then you’ll do it if you feel like it.”
Her relief was palpable. “You promise to tell me if I do something wrong and you don’t like it?”
“You have my word of honor.”
He figured it was an easy promise, he didn’t even need to cross his fingers when saying it. He couldn’t imagine her using that luscious body in any manner he didn’t like.
She pushed back, hands against his chest, face set in lines of rigid determination and demanded, “Tell me what to do.”
He rolled so that she was beneath him on the blanket. That would be his pleasure.
Chapter Twelve
He propped himself up on his elbow so he could look down on her. “First thing I got to ask is, do you have your heart set on being proper?”