The Science of Loving (22 page)

I increase my grip, pulling on her hair then fed her a low threatening growl as I took her bottom lip between my teeth. Her breath shortened—
better
—I pulled out slowly, making sure she felt every fucking inch then pressed back in just as slowly, circling my hips when our pelvises kissed. “You feeling me?”

“Yeah.”
You little minx.

“Tell me.”

My God, this couldn't be real. Gripping my hair and pulling my knee so high my most tender parts were exposed, he ran the entire length of his cock over them again and again; every stroke, a smooth slick glide driving me crazy as I clawed his back, his ass, needing him closer.

He lifted his hips, sliding lower, positioning himself at my entrance, the condom making the blunt head forcing its way in feel unnaturally smooth. My body resisted—big. God, he felt so big. Then he stopped after barely entering me and pulled back
—oh no. No, this couldn't be happening—
just as I began to panic, he adjusted and pushed in again, going a little deeper this time. He kept pumping and adjusting, making a slow, inexorable invasion, each stroke a bit harder than the last until our bodies finally touched.

He waited, raining salty drips, breathing harshly as his stubble burned my face and neck. My muscles eased. I'd never felt so full. So full.

“God, Angie, you feel so fucking good. You okay?”

“Yeah.” I rock against him—
move in me—
with a flex of his hips, he pushed me into the mattress.

“Yeah? That super brain of yours and ‘yeah’ is the best you can do?”
He’s teasing me. Well, two can play
.

“Yeah,” I said, trying not to smile.

He changed abruptly, tensing, readying to pounce; twisting the fist gripping my hair hard, so hard my scalp tingled and I began to pant. His teeth closed around my lower lip. His chest vibrated with a deep bass I could feel in my bones and a predatory growl trickled against my skin.

Then he slid out so achingly slow that he felt never ending. When only his crown remained inside, he reversed, pushing back in with that same deliberate pace. “You feeling me?” he whispered, gyrating his hips into me.

“Yeah.” I wasn’t smiling now. The dark seducer was back, promising both ecstasy, and regret.

“Tell me what you’re feeling?”

“Hot, wet, full… Wanton and wanting.”

“Good, that’s good.” He began moving in long measured strokes, his balls gently tapping my ass at the end of each thrust. He released my knee. “Wrap your legs around me.” His fingers left my hair, crossing beneath me to grip the opposing shoulder while his other arm circled low, lifting my hips. His thrusts intensified, going deeper, forcing little grunts out of me as lust reduced him to pounding flesh and bruising fingers. I clung to his powerful body while he lost himself in mine, fighting for breath.

“You close baby?”
No, but it’s still glorious.

“I’m good,” I panted as a stitched developed in my side.

He hesitated, then buried himself deep, his sides heaving as he studied me. He sat back on his heels, dragging me with him, the sleeping bags crumpling under me. Gripping my thighs, he pumped into me experimentally, trying different angles, watching my face with a look of intense concentration.

I gazed back at him—my lover—getting lost in his beauty—
God, I could never have imagined this—
his body gleamed, crawling with ink and bulging muscles. Sweat ran down his torso like tears and his eyes held nothing but shadows. Then his cock found that spot, bringing me back to the moment. It must've shown on my face because he smiled intimately, knowingly, the blunt head striking it repeatedly.

“How about now sweetness?”

He was so calm, too calm. A heavy expectancy began coiling inside me. He adjusted his grip, sliding a supporting arm under the small of my back, lifting my hips. He looked down with an evil grin as he moved his other hand over my thigh to where our bodies met. A jolt ripped through me. And when our eyes met, his grin turned feral. He looked back down to our joined bodies, and his arm corded. He began ramming into me with short, jerking thrusts as he rapidly strummed his thumb over my clit.
Oh, shit, oh, shit. SHIT.

“That’s right baby. I want to feel you come on my fucking cock.”

He relentlessly took ownership of my body, pleasure flowing outward as he brutally clutched my ass, surging into me while I convulsed, whipping me with his thumb. His thrusts became frantic, his movements losing their rhythm. Then he ground into me, his cock pulsing as his body locked in vein popping rigor.

After several seconds, he collapsed next to me, and a shaking hand snaked onto my belly. “You still alive?”

Wow… That was… Oh wow… wow…
I gave him a weak thumbs up, the power of speech still beyond me. The mattress shifted. But I had no idea what he was up to since my eyes weren’t cooperating.

“No… no… too hot.” I kicked spastically at the sleeping bag.

He chuckled next to me. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Mmmm… Transcendent,” I muttered, with what was probably the stupidest grin of my life plastered on my face.

“Go to sleep Ange.” My eyelids went dark. He must've finally turned off the lantern.

CHAPTER TEN

All Good Things Come to an End

I woke next to a sleeping angel. Her lips pursed as her eyes shuttled back and forth beneath her eyelids—
that had better be me she was kissing in her dreams—
her hair was a disarming mess, sticking out in some spots, dried sweat gluing it flat in others; her creamy skin was patched with beard burn. I liked her wearing my marks, but the idea of other guys seeing them didn’t sit well with me. Last thing I wanted was some tool seeing how fuckable she was, or worse, looking down on her thinking she was easy. She was mine and I wasn’t sharing.

Shit, my bladder was ready to explode, but after yesterday morning’s freak-out there was no way I was letting her wake up alone. Grinning, I tickled her nose, her lips, making them twitch. She rolled over, burying her face in her pillow, leaving me no choice, but to go looking for other things to tickle, starting with her shoulders. I began tracing little circles over her skin.

“Mmmmm…” She stretched sleepily, rolling over, sliding her leg around me making my cock jump as the duct tape bands scratched my skin. She stopped breathing, her body no longer relaxed.
I guess she noticed.

“Morning, sweetness.”

“Morning,” she mumbled, shyly burrowing into me.

“Much as I would love wiling away the morning in your arms, nature’s been calling me for a while.” Flipping the sleeping bag open, I took a moment to admire my properly fucked woman. I fingered the band on her wrist. “I really hate removing these, but they might raise a few eyebrows, not to mention some really uncomfortable questions.” I crawled over her, returning with my penknife. “Wrist.” I slipped the knife under the band, sawing until the tape gave way. I briefly massaged her wrist—
I need to find something that doesn’t leave marks—
then went to work on the others until she was band free.

“I hear you awake in there.” The tent rattled from Danny’s abuse.
Fuck, I hate early risers.

“Yeah. Yeah… Give us a minute.”

After tossing Angie her jeans and last night’s tee, I yanked my shorts on and left to thwart any further assaults on our tent.

“Morning Biggie.” Danny smirked.

“Morning,” I grumbled. “Where’s Brett.”

“He went for a walk. He’s been up for a while.”

“I take it he’s another early riser.”

“Boy howdy.” The pleased look on her face was warning enough to change the subject.

“Avery?”

“Car.”

“Shit, I’d hoped he’d crawl back under his rock during the night. I guess we’re breaking camp early.”

“Yeah, I figured as much. Before you leave, we should make sure Dad can get the RV closed, just in case, ya know?”

“Uh huh,” I said, dropping Angie’s shower shoes at her feet after she climbed out of the tent, steadying her while she squiggled her toes under the straps.

“Morning Brain, nice hair.” Danny grinned at Angie’s bedhead. This was definitely a Kodak moment.
Dammit, where’s my phone?

“Same back at ya, Pinky.”
Maybe I should lend her a hat. Naw… This is too funny not to share.

“Ooh, someone’s feeling feisty this morning. I knew Biggie’d be a good influence.”

Angie blushed. “I need a shower.”

“No shit, you guys reek.”

“Fuck off.” I said after faking a silent laugh. I turned, offering Angie my arm, “Come Angelina, let us ignore this philistine and attend to our morning ablutions.”

Strutting off with our noses in the air—well, my nose anyway—we ambled through the campground, enjoying its unique flavor at the start of the day. The night’s dewy softness had yet to burn off, and snores and groaning, hung-over murmurs drifted on the shifting breeze, mixing with notes of smoke, trees and mold, along with occasional dashes of vomit and latrine.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Angie said as we approached the bathhouse. “But if we ever sleep together again, I want walls and a door.”
If? Oh, sweetheart, we’d abso-fucking-lutely be spending lots of nights together. We might even sleep a little.

“No worries sweetness, next time there’ll be soundproofed walls because I want to see just how loud and long I can make you scream.” I loved the way her eyes shined when I said shit like that. When Her lips part, I had to haul her in for a searing kiss, morning breath be damned. And the dazed way she clung to me by the time we were through, put a little swagger in my step—
that’s right baby; I’m your man.

“I’m just on the other side of the wall,” I gave her a nudge in the right direction. “If you need me, shout and I’m there.”

I waited until she was safely inside then entered the men’s side, turning the shower on so it could start warming while I pissed—
Damn, I so owed Danny—
I fucking hated owing Danny. She’d get smug, not to mention the gloating; there’d be gloating, lots and lots of gloating. Finishing, I stepped into the shower and the cold water sucked the breath out of me. Sometimes it took forever for the water to warm up at these places. I heard the girl’s shower turn on then grinned when a girlish squeal came from the other side of the wall, then thinking about her inner freak—aka Nympho Girl—kept that shit-eating grin on my face, making it very hard to shave.

I wandered into the showers not really thinking. Apparently Mat’d found an on/off switch that led directly from my mouth to my brain.
Shit!
I almost had a heart attack when I spied the dark haired disaster victim walking next to me. I spun, and stared at my reflection. Now Danny’s ‘nice hair’ remark made a lot more sense. Frizzy clumps of hair were sticking out from my head at odd angles while other spots were smashed flat, making me look something like the Elephant Man—
yeah, if he stuck his finger in a light socket
—this wasn’t my typical bed-head. I didn't know what this was—
Fuckhead. I had fuckhead—shit, Mat’d seen me like this—oh, my God, he let me walk around like this! That asshole.