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I’ve known her for her entire life. I didn’t know until tonight that I wanted to fuck her against a tree, but here we are.
“Good. I’m clean too and kids are the last thing I want.”
She laughs and palms the tree, sinking her feet solidly into the ground with her ass raised, dress hiked to her waist. Her perfect center glistening in the low light.
And I lose every rational thought as I sink my bare cock inside her. She accepts me, her body opening up to me effortlessly. Almost like she’s wanted this as long as I have.
Two years of unintentional foreplay finally finding some relief.
She presses back, holding firm as I thrust the last inches of me into her.
Phoebe takes all of me, cocooning me in her heat. Gripping her hips, I draw back out slowly, aching to be right back where I was when the base of my cock hits the open air.
She moans, her ass tilting as she tries to get the upper hand. She wants me back inside her and I’m close. Before this second, I thought I had pretty great stamina.
I’ve never fucked someone raw and definitely never behind a tree.
“I wish I could take my time—”
“Faster,” she moans.
And it doesn’t matter that I’m about to come because she’s right there with me.
She presses harder against me, her legs shaking as I pick up speed, my eyes blurring as she pulsates around me, her mouth opening in a barely perceptible cry as she twists to find me.
I thought her whispering my name was the pinnacle of hot. No. Her crying out my name in a strained whisper is the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.
I come undone. Pleasure fills my veins. My thoughts. My vision. I can’t see straight as our bodies meld together in a blinding flash.
I grasp her ass, my fingers digging into her soft flesh as I clench my jaw. Anything to keep silent as I fill her, pleasure pulsing through me with each final pump as she cries out softly, taking every drop I give her.
Chapter Three
Phoebe
“The theme was your idea, and you’ll be the only one without a date.” Marjorie huffs and crosses her arms, as if she thinks she can get to me. “Pathetic.”
Okay. That stung more than a little.
“You don’t know that.” Snuggling deeper into the couch, I pull the blanket up to my chin and hope she’ll leave me alone soon.
She doesn’t take the hint and plops down at my feet. “So, does that mean you have found a date?”
Making a non-committal sound, I peek out the window and see some guy doing a walk of shame out of the house across from ours. My body flushes with heat as I remember my moment with Ben in the park. Was it really only last night?
It’s all I’ve been able to think about, and now that I’m in Connecticut, I’m kicking myself for leaving Clover Creek so quickly.
Marjorie’s still blathering on in the background, but I can’t focus on her drivel.
Ben’s eyes as we tidied ourselves and rejoined the wedding party have been impossible for me to forget. We spent the rest of the night dancing and holding each other. He wanted me to come back to his place, but I knew it was a bad idea. I had a flight early in the morning—something I still hate myself for—and if I woke up in his arms, I wouldn’t have left.
Now I’m sitting in the stuffy sorority house I thought would be my saving grace three years ago, wishing I was stuck in Clover Creek.
“It’s like you’re not even listening.”
I snort and wave my hand toward Marjorie. “I heard you.”
But I couldn’t focus. Sure, I chose this year’s spring soiree theme: Regency Ball, but I’m not sure why that means I must have a date.
