By Gemini Judson
Available from Whiskey Creek Press Torrid, 02/2011
Bruce’s camper was small but well equipped and comfortable. Lori looked around awkwardly, wondering what she’d gotten herself into. Four horny minutes ago, this seemed like a really good idea, but now…
He quieted her thoughts by sliding his hands behind her neck, under her hair and painting his lips onto hers. She slipped back into unreality and let him carry her up to the clouds. Their breathing hushed into the silence of the small dark space, fueling a hypnotic sensation. Whatever happened here was part of a dream.
Lori’s fingers trembled as they traveled down the front of his shirt, fumbling over buttons in a secret campaign to stop this craziness. Her lust for him prevailed and she slid her hands inside to caress his stony chest. Bruce was slim but buff, with a sexy brush of dark hair covering the real estate. She glided her hands around his waist and he moaned in response.
“How old are you, Bruce?” She squeezed her question on top of sizzling kisses.
She smiled and let her tongue dance inside his slippery mouth. She guessed forty-one was closer. With a ton of apprehension and an ounce of courage, she ran her fingers along the waistband of his jeans. No belt. Tuck always hiked his belt one notch too far, causing a ridiculous pucker in his pants. She flipped the snap and unzipped him, reaching inside to his long rod. An involuntary gasp slipped past her lips and she thought she felt a smile in his kiss. Long-limbed and slim, Bruce was blessed with the goods to please a woman.
“Miss Littlehawk, are you ready to follow through with a touch like that?” Bruce sighed heavily and held her face, gazing with a passion that made Lori swoon. He wanted her. She wanted him. Two adults, birth control covered. “I’m ready for whatever you have in mind.”
A knock at the door made them both jump. “Lori, you in there? We need to get going. We’re on in ten minutes. Lori?”
Henry’s voice splashed a bucket of cold reality over Lori’s head. She released her tender grip of Bruce’s manhood. “How did he know I was here?” She looked at the door and straightened her peasant blouse on her shoulders, preparing for departure.
“Who’s he?” Bruce pulled the string at the gathered front of the blouse, undoing her efforts. With lips of heated butter, he drew a line of kisses down her neck as he pushed the blouse over her shoulder. A decadent nibble at the nape of her neck swept the air from her lungs with a coo.
“It’s my brother. I have to go.”
“Don’t go. Not yet.” Bruce’s eyes fed on her skin as he escorted the blouse further down her shoulder. The tip of his finger swirled in sensual circles on the mound of her breast. Even the finger seemed exciting and exotic. This was the freedom she sought. Her heart beat wildly and her head swam in pudding. She wouldn’t let this end. Not yet.
With no thought of her fiddle or anything else but the knob of his cock, she dropped to her knees and exposed his length. She slipped her lips around the smooth surface.
He inhaled sharply. “Oh, shit.” His hands caressed her hair as she sucked up on his shaft and bobbed rapidly down. Bruce’s moans sent a thrill to her chest and a rush of hot juice to her pussy. She went at him harder and slipped his jeans down his hips.
Another knock. “Lori, c’mon!”
For the first time in her life, she wanted to wring Henry’s neck. Torn with indecision, she stood tall and stepped away from Bruce and the prominence of his cock. Stay or go? The look on his face raced her heart. He lusted for her, ached for her. She’d give anything at that moment to know how he felt inside her. Just for a second...
Lori gently pushed on his chest until he stepped back, bumping into the chair behind him. Stay.