“We should do whatever we want,” she murmured, her hands already doing whatever they wanted. He tried to catch them, but she was fast and nimble and greatly determined. “You can complain about how much you hate all this later,” she told him, kissing his jaw, his ear, her hands eating him up wherever they touched. “God, this fresh air is invigorating.”
“Actually, that’s you. You’re invigorating.” His hands skimmed over her hips to her ass, squeezing, pulling her in closer so that she rubbed against his zipper, letting out a sexy little moan of pleasure.
“Why, Cameron Wilder,” she purred. “I do believe you’re as excited as I am. Do you offer this service to all your clients?”
His eyes closed in sheer pleasure when she sucked his ear-lobe into her mouth. “Only the hot ones-” He hissed out a breath when she bit his ear, then soothed the ache by sucking it into her mouth, and just like that, he was a goner.
Or more likely, he’d always been a goner for her. He didn’t know how, but in two seconds flat, he’d slipped beneath her silk shirt, unhooked her bra, nudged it aside, and then, oh yeah, filled his palms with her warm, full br**sts.
She gasped, and he lifted his head. “Too cold?”
“No. Yes.” She laughed breathlessly, arching her hips against his. “Just don’t stop.”
He didn’t, and she repaid him by slipping her hands down his torso to his lower abs, her fingers playing with his waist-band, which was loose enough that if she wanted to, she could-
God. Yeah. That. She could dip those fingers in. He sort of lost himself, tugging up her shirt, exposing her br**sts to the night air and his hungry gaze only long enough for him to cover one with his hand, the other with his mouth, sucking her in to rasp his tongue over her nipple.
A wordless plea for more fell from her lips as she rocked against him, her head falling back. Her ski cap slipped off, and so did his, aided by her fingers.
Above them, around them, no part of the night objected. The only sounds were the soft rustling of the wind, and their own labored breathing. Her face was flushed, and when he switched to her other breast, she hissed out a breath and rocked her hips to his. He cupped her most cuppable ass, showing her what rhythm worked for him, then slipped his hand down the back of her ski pants. But some idiot had given her a size too small and he couldn’t get as far as he wanted, so he came around to the front and unbuttoned and unzipped and, finally, oh yeah…got inside.
Her panties were silk.
And wet.
So damn wet.
No slouch, she followed his lead and had his pants undone as well; but before she could dive in, he stroked her on that wet, creamy center and she went still, panting out his name.
Loving the sound of his name on her lips, he did it again, just a single stroke with a slow, delicate precision.
She still didn’t move, she’d gone still as a statue, and he looked into her face. “Katie? Okay?”
Her fingers dug into his pecs. “Ohmigod, yes.”
Taking that as a good sign, he gently stroked her again with just the pad of his finger, slowly outlining her, which seemed to galvanize her back into motion. Her hips went to town, moving impatiently against him. “Cam-” She sounded a little panicked. “I-Ohmigod.”
She was close, he could tell, so close, so he kept at it, adding another finger, increasing the rhythm, the pressure. She had her hands fisted in his waistband for balance, still rocking her hips as she gulped for air. “Remember, it’s been a really long time.” She had to stop and pant some more. “And I’m fairly primed here, so-”
God, she was so sweet. And hot. So f**king hot. He slid a finger into her and ran his tongue over her nipple, loving the way she trembled over him.
“Seriously,” she gasped. “I’m going to…”
“Yeah.” Knowing it made him even hotter, made him tremble, made him feel a burst of something he wouldn’t have recognized a few weeks back but was beginning to become habit when he was with her-exhilarated. “Come. I want to feel you.”
But instead she did something that changed the game. She slid her hand all the way into his pants as well, and wrapped her fingers around him, stroking in the same rhythm he was using on her.
And suddenly he wasn’t feeling like smiling smugly at what he was doing to her, for her, at how he was holding her on the very edge.
Because suddenly he was the one on that edge. “Katie.” He needed her to slow down or stop, but his hands were full. Full of her. Desperate, his hips rocked helplessly against hers. Gasping out her name, along with some unintelligible plea like “Oh God, don’t stop,” and more that might have been utterly humiliating if he’d been alone in this insanity, but he wasn’t.
Alone.
Not even close. She was right there with him, crying out, shuddering as she burst. And then, while he was absolutely, one-hundred-percent lost in the vision of her as she came stealing the very breath from his lungs as she did-he shuddered too. So far gone in her, he hadn’t realized that her hands had never stopped, that they were still stroking him, pumping, making his entire body tighten-“Katie, wait-”
She didn’t, and though he tried to extract his fingers from her pants, it was way too late, and he was coming in her hands the same way she’d come in his.
Only it wasn’t exactly the same, and he jerked back, the horrified apology on his lips. She simply moved with him, planting a kiss on his mouth as he shuddered and barely managed to come back to planet Earth. Opening his eyes, he found hers open on his, her mouth nibbling at the corner of his lips. “Katie, I-”