Page 50 of Careless Hope
“Open communication,” she echoed. A smile played on her lips, softening the serious tone of our conversation.
“Got any questions or concerns before we even think about movin’ forward with this?” I asked, my heart pounding a rhythm against my chest.
She shook her head, her eyes alight with trust and something else—anticipation, maybe. “No questions. Just . . . thank you, Walker. For being so understanding. And for being so easy to trust.”
“Of course, darlin’.”
Her hand met mine, fingers interlacing with an assured grip.
With her words as my compass, I leaned in, capturing her lips with mine in a soft kiss. It was gentle, exploratory, as if we were both savoring the taste of promise on each other’s breath.
She reached down and palmed my dick through my jeans, sending a jolt through me. But when she reached for my zipper, I took her hands in mine again and stopped her.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting you out. I can hardly go down on you with your jeans on.”
“Oh hell no. I’m going down on you.”
“No, that’s not what this was about.”
“Fuck yes it is.”
She palmed me again, and I had to breath deep to stop myself from just going with it.
“Look, I know you wanna learn how to do that, but it’s like I said the other night. You need to know and be confident in your own pleasure.”
“I’ve never. I mean, no one has ever . . . ”
“Never what? Never gone down on you?”
She nodded, her cheeks blushing.
“You’re telling me no one has had the pleasure of tasting thissweet pussy? That I’m gonna be the first? Baby, I don’t think you understand what that knowledge is doing to me.”
“Why? I mean, sure, it’ll probably be nice, but it won’t teach me what I need to know.”
By now, I’d abandoned all pretenses of trying to be a good man and take things slow. She needed to get her pussy licked and I needed to be the one to do it. I sucked at her neck, kissed down to her chest, pulling her dress down to reveal her perfect tits so I could kiss them too.
My hands began their journey, tracing the outline of her jaw before drifting down to explore the soft slope of her neck. She tilted her head back, giving me access, a silent invitation to continue. The warmth of her skin seeped into my fingertips, and a surge of protectiveness washed over me. I wanted to make her feel good, but I also couldn’t stop myself from worshiping her.
“Tell me if anything feels wrong,” I murmured against her ear, my breath warm on her skin.
“Everything feels so right,” she whispered back, her hands finding their way to my chest, fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt as if anchoring herself to the moment.
Encouraged, I let my hands roam lower, mapping the contours of her body through the soft cotton of her dress. Every inch of her was a revelation, from the gentle swell of her breasts to the curve of her waist, and I committed each discovery to memory.
Her breathing hitched when I brushed the hem of her dress, my palms skimming along her thighs with purposeful tenderness. The heat radiating from her was intoxicating, drawing me in like a moth to flame, and I reveled in the sensation of her skin, smooth and inviting beneath my touch.
“Okay?” I checked, looking into her eyes for any sign of hesitation.
“More than okay,” she reassured me, and there was a strength in her voice that made me weak at the knees. I dropped down to them and pushed her legs apart, kissing a trail up each thigh.
Her moans of pleasure vibrated through me, and I couldn’t help but touch myself as I worked her.
My other hand reached up to slip into her panties, sliding them to the side. I found her already wet for me, and slipped one finger inside her as I kissed around her clit. The scent of her . . . the taste of her . . . it was all almost too much. I could have come in my damn jeans right there. I stopped touching myself and used that hand to play with her nipples as the other finger-fucked her.
My tongue lapped at her, finding a rhythm that made her shake and call out my name.
