“But—” I gasp. “But you didn’t want me.”
“Nng,” Rex groans, looking into my eyes. “I was trying to be a fucking gentleman.”
“No,” I huff, “now you’re a fucking gentleman.”
He shakes his head and drops his forehead to mine. “You,” he says darkly, “talk when you’re nervous.”
“No,” I gasp, and it’s true; I usually don’t. Rex quirks an eyebrow. “Only with you,” I say. His smile is slow and predatory.
“Don’t be nervous,” he says, amused. Yeah, right, thanks. I only thought I was attacked by some murderer, like, ten minutes ago. I don’t even let myself think about why I’m nervous about how it feels to have him against me, inside me.
“It’s just—you know, the woods, and—there’s—did you know statistically the greatest percentage of serial killers come from the Midwest?”
I cannot believe I just said that. There’s babbling because you’re turned on and then there’s sounding like a total psycho.
Rex is giving me a strange look.
“So, you’re nervous that I might be a serial killer?”
I shake my head miserably. “No, no, I was just saying. Sorry. Ignore me.”
Rex’s expression softens and he runs the back of his free hand over my jaw.
“I don’t want to ignore you,” he says. “I just want you to be here. Are you here?” He strokes inside me again and my breathing goes all funny.
“I’m here,” I say.
“Just relax, okay?”
“Easier said than—” He kisses me hard. His tongue stroking over mine shoots sparks of pleasure to my stomach and my cock. My thighs tremble and I unclench. He kisses like he talks—confidently, with authority, but so receptive to my every response. I moan into his mouth and he slips another finger inside me. When I cry out he presses even closer, his chest and shoulders dwarfing mine.
“You feel fucking amazing,” Rex says. “You’re pulling me inside.” Fuck. The things he says. Usually I hate when guys talk during sex. It always sounds ridiculous, like bad porn. Besides, I’m used to sucking off guys behind the tires at my dad’s shop or fucking them in bathrooms at concerts, not much time for conversation. But everything out of Rex’s mouth turns me on even more.
The tree against my back and Rex’s fingers inside me are the only things I can feel. Until Rex takes hold of both our cocks in his big hand and begins to stroke us together.
“Oh!” I cry, and Rex moans low. My head spins as jolts of pleasure shoot through my cock. I slide my hands under Rex’s shirt, dig into the thick muscles there. I can imagine what his body would feel like crushing me into the mattress, and I’m not sure where that thought came from because it’s not something I’ve ever particularly wanted before.
Rex strokes us faster, our erections now slippery with fluid, and I brace myself on his shoulders so I don’t slide down the tree—and because I don’t want to give up the shivery full feeling of his fingers inside me.
Everything feels liquid, and Rex’s breath is coming in pants now. He bites his lip and his rhythm stutters.
“Fuck, baby, I’m so close,” he says and I can only whimper in response and nod. He takes a shaky breath and his hand slows slightly. When he kisses me, it’s softer and his mouth tastes sweeter. I can feel him trembling with the effort to hold back his orgasm.
He slides his fingers even deeper inside me and I feel wracked against the tree, on his hand, by his mouth and his chest and fucking voice and, god, his smell. I’m barely aware of what I’m doing, just anything to get more. More contact, more tongue, just more. Hands on his shoulders, I grind down on his fingers and cry out in pleasure.
“Oh fuck,” he says, but it’s like his voice is coming from a great distance, far away from the feeling of his fingers zinging pleasure through my channel and his big hand stroking us together faster now. I should be embarrassed of the broken sounds I’m making, but I can’t seem to care.
Rex flexes his fingers inside me at the same time as his stroke catches the head of my cock just right and I’m spiraling into orgasm, clutching at his shoulders, his neck, anything to keep me from losing contact with his body. Warmth tingles at the base of my spine and in my balls and then it’s just white-hot pleasure shooting through me.
“Oh, oh,” I cry out. Heat pours out of me, making everything slippery. I gasp for breath and my hole spasms around Rex’s fingers as my muscles contract, pulling a final hot spurt from me and leaving me shuddering against Rex, his fingers still inside me.
“Holy shit,” Rex says. He strokes us twice more, my cock so sensitive it’s almost painful, and then he’s coming too, striping my chest and stomach with powerful spurts as he crushes me against the tree.