There’s something in his voice. Almost like he’s teasing me.
“Why did you say that?” I ask.
“Because after last night, I’m addicted to your pussy. I’m probably always going to be thinking about if I can get into position to get my tongue on you.”
I flush with heat and my clit aches a little, wanting his tongue.
“Think about that,” he says. “If we’re going to keep seeing each other, know that wherever we are—The Come Again, Dottie’s, a bonfire, my mom’s kitchen table, your parents’ backyard—I’m always going to be thinking, at least a little, about when I can next see, touch, and taste this gorgeous body.”
The heat and ache intensify. “I’m…” I swallow. “I’m okay with that.”
He gives me a grin. “Good. ’Cuz I’d probably be thinking it even if we weren’t together, but if we’re dating, at least that means it’s foreplay instead of pure torture.”
God, I want to kiss him so badly. I want that mouth and those hands all over me.
But I shake my head and make myself ask, “Did it just occur to you to maybe sit me up on the handlebars?”
I can see a smirk tugging at his mouth. “I read something like that. But the guy didn’t think it would work.” He runs his hands up my thighs and squeezes my hips. “I think he’s right, but for the wrong reason.”
I’m staring at him. He read it somewhere? “Why do you think it won’t work?” I ask, that question overriding my curiosity about how he knows about it.
“It’s not so much the height—I would happily bend myself into a pretzel to get another taste of you. It’s that you don’t have anything to lean against or really hang onto. I don’t want to risk you falling off when you’re coming nice and hard.”
He’s got a point. That’s actually my first thought.
My pussy can’t get over the idea of having his mouth on her again.
But the immediate second thought is where did he read about this?
It’s possible that I’m not the first and only author to think about sex on a four-wheeler, or oral sex with the woman on the handlebars, but this all just seems a little too convenient.
“You read about it? Where? Sounds like my kind of literature.”
“Oh, it sure is. I was delighted to find out you’re the author.”
My heart thumps hard as surprise hits me directly in the chest.
He knows about my fanfiction. Oh my God.
“How?” I ask simply.
“Charlie,” he answers, just as simply.
Of course.
“When?”
“The day I came into the library with the print molds for you.”
My eyes widen. “You’ve known all this time?”
He grins. “I’m your biggest fan. I’ve even helped with a couple questions you’ve asked.”
I shake my head. “What? You and I have chatted online?”
He nods. “Hi, TUFFGUY1.”
My mouth drops open. TUFFGUY1 is a newer user but he has, in fact, been commenting on all of my stuff lately. He’s been so encouraging, so enthusiastic, and has given me a couple of really great prompts. Like how taking the couple out of the sex club would mean their relationship was progressing.
