He slams the axe down, splintering the final log, chest heaving, sweat slicking every inch of his muscles. “That’s time,” he growls.
“How many?” I tease, biting my lip.
“Enough.” His grin flashes, wolfish. “I win.”
With a laugh, I hook my thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, slide them down my hips, toss them aside. His eyes darken instantly, his chest expanding like he’s trying to drink me in.
“Open those lovely legs, baby,” he orders thickly. “Show me my favorite petal.”
I prop up my feet, then slowly part my thighs, teasing him by stretching out the moment. He groans like a wounded animal when they finally fall open, the sun bathing slick folds already sopping with our naughty game.
His chest rises and falls rapidly as his eyes latch onto my pink, glistening pussy. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me.”
I rest back on my elbows, cupping my breasts and slowly teasing my nipples. Sensation shoots fireworks through my bloodstream, and I moan. “Hmm, I am, but we’re not done with the game.” I nod at his boxers and the obscene erection tenting the fabric. “You still have clothes on.”
He growls, then reaches blindly for the next log from the pile next to him.
“Next round,” I murmur, spreading my thighs just a little wider, shivering as a cool breeze washes between my wet lips.
His knuckles whiten on the axe handle.
He chops. One, two, three clean splits. Sweat drips down his temple, gliding over his jaw, into the thick hair on his chest.
But then... I pull on my nipples, give a soft little whimper. And he slips. The axe head bites too shallow.
“Uh-oh,” I sing, rolling my nipples between my fingers. “Looks like you lose, Bear.”
His gaze locks on me, a visible wet patch appearing against his boxers. His voice drops to a rasp. “Sure. Fine.”
“Take ’em off, then.”
Slowly, he shoves his boxers down and steps out of them, naked, magnificent, and monstrously thick—so thick it makesmy pussy and everything inside me ache, tremble at the thought of most of that buried in my poor, grateful pussy.
“One more round,” I challenge.
His growl rumbles through the air.
He chops once, twice, then stops cold when I slide my fingers between my thighs, circling my clit as I watch him.
With a grunt, he throws the axe aside as trails of juicy pre-cum drop from his cock to the forest floor. “Jesus fucking Christ. You fucking win, petal.”
“So I get to name my prize?” I say, eyes wide.
“Yes, goddammit.”
I crook my finger at him. “Come here. Lie down.”
His brows arch, but he obeys, prowling to me, then sinking to stretch out on the blanket, huge and gorgeous, sunlight turning the sweat on his skin to gold.
My prize.
The second he’s on his back, I crawl over him, straddling his hips, palms skimming his chest.
“Did I tell you how sexy you look wearing only my socks?” he grunts, his hands reaching for me. “They’ll look even better squatting next to my head.”
“Uh-uh, no distractions.” I catch his behemoth arms and attempt to place them above his head.
His smirk is sinful when he immediately raises his head and licks one budded nipple. I gasp and pull back, but he finishes the task and places his hands beneath his head.
