Deacon and Mrs. Irene spotted me when I walked through the door, and even though he’s a cocky, arrogant rich boy, Deacon has a soft heart. He took Mrs. Irene as his date and treated her like a queen, and when he saw me wobbling through that door buzzing and pissed, he pulled me to his side and took care of me.
I love him for it, but he’s not my Sawyer. Nobody’s my dark, broody stubborn as a mule man who is so fucking hot.
“You taste so good, baby girl.”
Have I mentioned how much I love that he calls me that? It’s kind of dirty, and Sawyer’s only five years older than I am. Still, I love it.
“I want to spend the night here, under the stars.” I lift my arms over my head, swaying my hips.
My movements cause my strapless dress to slide lower on my breasts, and I open my eyes slightly to see Sawyer’s hooded gaze on them. Lowering my arms, I walk slowly forward, to where he’s standing.
“You like what you see?” Placing my hands on either side of him, I lean in for a kiss.
“Abso-fuckin-lutely.” He captures my lips in his and consumes me.
Rough hands unzip my dress, and it falls to the ground. He cups my breasts, pinching my nipples with his fingers. It’s so hot, I hold his neck, wrapping my legs around his waist as he lifts me by the ass, turning me so I’m on the hood of his truck.
“I want you inside me.” I purr, pulling his bottom lip with my teeth.
“Is that so?” His fingers graze the skin of my thighs, raising goose bumps as they trace higher to my thong. A swift rip, and it’s gone.
“I want you all over my face.” He growls at my ear, and it’s a bolt of electricity through my core. “I want to hear you screaming my name.”
My knees rise, and I pull him by the shirt closer. “Like I always do?”
My mouth is open when it meets his, welcoming and warm. His tongue licks the corner of mine on its way inside to curl with my tongue. We’re sloppy, and I laugh. He scoops both hands into the sides of my hair, and I love how he grips me, holding my face with so much possession as he kisses me.
“You are so fucking gorgeous.” I’ve seen Sawyer so many ways, but never like this. Tonight his eyes make my stomach flip.
He looks at me like he’s the desert, and I’m the first drops of rain.
He looks at me like he loves me.
“Lie back.” His voice cracks, and my insides flood.
I lie back already halfway to the moon, and with the first brush of his beard against my sensitive skin, I gasp. His fingers cut into my ass, and he’s on me.
Rum makes you a villain, whiskey cheers you up, but tequila makes you crazy. It was only a week ago this man was racing us home from the lake, worried someone might see us out here fucking. Now he’s all over my pussy like it’s a drug.
I let him take me, hands spanning my ass, fingers caressing, penetrating my most private parts. It doesn’t take long for my thighs to shake, for the fireworks to shoot through me with fiery-hot sparks of light.
He fucks me hard and fast on the hood of his truck. I come with my eyes closed and my back arched, moaning loud. His groans join mine in the night, and it’s so fucking hot. I feel him hot and slippery inside me.
We’re breathing fast as I sit up to wrap my arms around him. My breasts are pink from his whiskers, and his come is on my thighs. The air is thick with moisture and heavy with sex.
“Can we swim?” I want his body next to mine.
“Might as well.” He scoops me under the ass and carries me to the water.
My arms are around his neck, and. I trace my tongue along his skin, mixing his salt with the tequila on my tongue. We’re lazy and relaxed in the water, sliding our bodies together as we kiss and cool down.
“We’ll have to leave a review for Mr. The Rock’s tequila. It’s good shit.”
His buzzy words make me grin. My eyes are closed, and I lean my head on his shoulder. “It’s a perfect night.”
“Come on, sleepyhead. Let’s stretch out under the stars.”
I hum a consent as he carries me in his arms back to the truck. He spreads a blanket over the bed and deposits me on it before climbing over the side. My insides are electric as we slip beneath the layers.