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“All gone,” I whispered.

His arm clamped around my back. “My turn,”
he said, and put his hot mouth on mine.

Finally
. I felt like cheering. Eleven
years. How long could someone wait?

Wait, what? I’d been
waiting
?

I didn’t have time to focus on that, because
his kiss was taking all my attention. It was nothing like what I’d
expected. I thought he’d devour me, eat me alive. I
wanted
him to devour me. But he was…tasting me.

Soft, tiny fire kisses, lighting me up like
there were embers deep in my belly. Touch, brush, touch, brush, he
kissed from one side of my mouth to the other, a tiny stroke of his
tongue here and there, like he was painting my lips.

“Oh,” I whispered, shocked and trembling at
the gentleness, and he slipped his tongue inside my mouth.

Hot and slippery and slow and deep, he
explored me with licks and strokes, teeth and tongue. Chills shot
across my breasts, making my nipples almost painfully hard. I was
fired up, dangerous, and wanting more.

I wrapped my hands around his neck and might
have sort of tried to climb up his body. He seemed to get the hint,
because he pushed me back hard against the side of the truck, then
stepped between my legs. His erection was hard between us and he
rocked his hips into me, looking down at me, and grinned.

I grinned back. I felt like a storm brewing.
“I feel like I could do anything,” I whispered, my wrist slung
around his neck.

“Go for it.”

“Last time you said that, you meant for me
to stick my hand down your pants.”

“That’s what I mean now.”

I laughed, feeling reckless and dizzy, and
slid my hand down to the bulge in his jeans. “Like this?” I asked,
trembling inside.

“Close.” He splayed the hand around my back
and started tipping me backward.

I flattened my palm against his chest.
“Don’t you have neighbors?”

He paused, mid-lean. “One, not many. Two,
they’re pretty far away. Three, I don’t care.”

I nodded and slid my hand down his stomach.
It was hard under the thin cotton. I pulled his shirt up and slid
my fingers down him, to the button of his jeans.

“Well, if there’s not many and they’re far
away and we don’t care….”

“We don’t care at all,” he said in a hoarse
voice as I went down on my knees in front of him.

I have a confession to make. Ever since Finn
had invited me to stick my hand down his pants eleven years ago,
I’d thought about it once or twice, about what I might have found
down there.

Okay, I dreamed about it. Obsessed. Had one
or two or a thousand orgasms just thinking about it. It was my
go-to fantasy, Finn’s cock. And now it was in my hands, about to be
in my mouth.

I ran the flat of my hand against the long,
hard length of him under his boxers, and he made a deep, rumbly
sound. I pulled down the waistband, and my knees got weak at the
sight of his erection. Perfect. I bent my head and tasted the hot
saltiness glistening at the rounded head of him, and just like in
my fantasies, I came, right there, real small, real hard, real
fast.

“Jesus, Janey,” he muttered from above. “Did
you just come?”

“Hush,” I murmured, tugging his jeans down
to mid-thigh, exposing the pale, smooth muscles at the very top of
his upper legs. “Don’t interrupt.”

He gave a ragged laugh as I slid my fingers
up the hard, swollen length of him, traced the thick, pulsing vein
that ran up the underside of his upright cock. I felt dizzy with
possibilities. I opened my mouth and took him in.

He hissed and pushed his fingers into my
hair and held my head. I slid my wide-open mouth down him, my eyes
closed, my whole world contracted to nothing but Finn. His broken
breath, his silken hard flesh, the sweaty, masculine scent of him.
I closed one hand around the base of his cock and gave a couple of
light, rhythmic tugs.

“Harder,” he ordered in a rasp.

I did, shifting on my knees, coming in real
close, to lean over him and take him deep in my mouth, as far as I
could, slow and deep, my head bobbing up and down.

“Yeah,” he growled, his hand gentle on the
back of my head.

I slid my other hand up his hard stomach, to
his chest. He covered it with his and pressed our clasped hands to
his chest while his hips pumped forward into my mouth.

I had no real idea what I was doing, so I
went on instinct, followed his body and did whatever he seemed to
like. I licked the head of him, hard, fast licks. I cupped his
balls and I think his eyes rolled back in his head. I
felt…triumphant. Powerful. I loved the hard length of his body
standing over me. I loved knowing he was watching me, his dark male
voice rough with instruction, his breathing hard, getting off on me
getting him off. I could do this all day, I decided.

I totally ignored the part of me that was
standing back, staring in shock and horror at the sight of Janey
MacInnee, down on her knees in the dirt, sucking Finn Dante’s cock
down her throat.

My body started to hum.

“Jesus, Jane,” he muttered roughly, then
pulled back, out of my mouth.

I grabbed for him and looked up, my hair
flying all around my face. He’d undone every pin. “But—”

“Nope,” he said, pulling me to my feet. “Not
so fast.”

“But I wanted it fast,” I complained
breathlessly. “I wanted you to…
do it in my mouth,”
I said,
lowering my voice to inform him of this.

His jaw flexed, and he closed his eyes, then
opened them. “I swear to you, you will do that later, as much as
you want,” he promised in a rough voice. “Just not our first
time.”

And then
he
went down in front of
me
. He pushed my skirt up with the heel of his hand in the
gritty, hot setting sun and let out a low hiss.

I smiled. Because I was wearing my Wonder
Woman underwear today. The silk ones, with the garters.

His dark gaze slid up to my eyes.

“You like them?” I whispered, grinning.

“They’re fucking perfect.”

Happiness burned through me.

“Sorry,” he said, hooking his fingers in
them. “They gotta go.”

I felt wild and wicked and wonderful. The
cool breeze kicking up under the hot sunset light, night coming on,
Finn kneeling at my feet, calling my Wonder Woman underwear
“fucking perfect,” his hard heat all around me. I was absolutely,
100 percent, no-holds-barred ready.

He turned his head to the side to kiss my
inner thigh. The rough growth of the day’s facial hair scraped
against my skin as he breathed on me.
Yes
, I thought. He
wrapped his hands around my thighs, his thumbs on the inner sides,
and made me spread them apart for him.

“You’re wet,” he growled, licking my inner
thigh. He slid his hand up and lightly brushed the tip of one
finger against my wet heat, through my Wonder Woman underwear.

I let out a hot, ragged breath. He did it
again, the lightest brush of his thick finger against the silk.
Then I felt my panties tighten slightly as he pinched them with two
calloused fingers and tugged them to the side, exposing my
slippery, hot self.

I threw my head back. It bumped the side of
the truck, and I kept it there, a perfect resting spot to close my
eyes and focus on nothing but what Finn was doing to me. And
somehow keep my knees from buckling. I gave up every other goal in
life and just tried to stay on my feet and let him do me.

His face was level with everything pounding
hot inside me. He took his time, sliding his thumb up the front of
my leg, then brushing up through the heated, pulsing flesh to just
below my clitoris. I held my breath, waiting, but he only did the
same thing again, a little harder this time, a little faster, his
thumb pushing in a little farther. Then he moved up, nudging the
swirling tightness of my clit from below, a pressured push of
perfection,
almost
touching it but not quite.

I gave a frustrated little cry.

He tipped forward on the balls of his feet,
brought his face forward, and breathed on my shockingly sensitive
pussy. A hot breath, dusting over everything in me that was
pounding. I bit my bottom lip, held my breath, and waited. And
waited. The nearness of what he could do, what he was
going
to do and wasn’t doing, made my head spin. Or maybe that was from
holding my breath.

I roped my fingers through his short hair
and tugged. “Finn.”

“What?” His voice came up, muffled, from
below.

I almost laughed. “What are you doing down
there?”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

I looked down at his hard body crouched in
front of me, the shadows of his eyes and cheekbones and nose, his
muscled forearms, his thick wrists, his hard fingers brushing me so
lightly. “I think you’re
killing
me.”

“Yeah?” He met my eyes and slid his finger
directly over my clit, fast and light.

“Yes.” I might have moaned it.

He did it again, harder, slow and hard.

“Oh God,” I whispered.

“Like that?” His words were dark promises,
because I knew more was coming. Our eyes locked. He spread me wide
with both thumbs and leaned in and gave me a hard, flicking lash
with his tongue.

My head jerked back, banging the truck
again.

“You want more?”

My fingers tightened in his hair.
“More.”

“Like this?” He slapped my clit lightly,
then followed it with a hot lap of his tongue.

“Oh fuck,” I whispered. My legs were
trembling.

“Fuck yeah,” he whispered back, and bent
back to his work

He had one hand wrapped around my hip,
holding me steady, thank God, and pushed my legs farther apart with
his other hand. I was shaking, I was so hot and ready. He leaned
forward and buried his face in my pussy.

I screamed, my face to the sun as he slid a
thick finger up inside me.

No more soft, teasing touches now. It was
all possessing and taking. My hips rocked forward into his face,
slippery and wet, and I cried out in pleasure as he slid another
finger up inside me. He worked me good, curling his fingers as he
carefully, very carefully, tested my limits, delivering hot, deep,
pressured pushes. His tongue slid across my clitoris in rhythmic
strokes to match his hand while the day’s growth of hair on his
chin and jaw scraped against the sensitive, trembling flesh of my
thighs. I felt like I might die.

I felt like I was alive for the first
time.

I twined my fingers into his hair, closed my
eyes, and lost track of everything. Time, weather, if we’d drawn an
audience or not. Sun burned red against my eyelids, Finn’s fingers
were hot and dangerous and deep inside me, his tongue hard and fast
against me, winding me up, harder and hotter. He slid his other
hand between my thighs, placed the heel of it against my bottom,
and pushed up.

Bolts of electric heat ripped through me.
“I’m going to die,” I whispered wildly. “Don’t stop, please, Finn,
please don’t sto—”

He stopped.

I gave a strangled cry as he unraveled to
his feet.

“What—why—” I gasped, my head spinning.

His eyes were dark with desire. He grabbed
my wrist and swung me gently around to the front of his truck. “Not
yet.”

“Oh, but—”

“Lean over,” he ordered, his voice low, and
I did, putting my hands on the hot hood of his truck, my bottom
up.

I looked over my shoulder at him. He was
perfectly still, his sweaty body motionless as his gaze moved down
my body.

“You look good,” he rasped. I felt good. I
felt golden and hot and electric. He stepped behind me and grazed
his wide hand up my back, pushing my shirt up as he went. Then he
reached down to drag a fingertip up the back of my thighs, pulling
up my skirt as he went, exposing my bottom. He leaned down to kiss
the small of my back, and I arched for him, pressing the palms of
my hands on the hot metal of his truck for him, my hips up. He was
so gentle as he slid down me, his lips over my spine, then over the
bunched skirt, kissing to the seam of my bottom. My breath hitched,
then froze as his hand slid over my bottom, slightly sweaty. His
mouth went lower. He kissed the rounded curve of my ass, and I gave
a soft whimper. Then he spanked me.

It ripped a loud cry from me depths. My head
whipped back from the power of it, the shocking, perfect power of
it, and I moaned. He did it again, and my body exploded,
undulating. I cried out, loud, trying to reach back for him.

His erection bumped hard against my bottom.
I heard crinkly tinfoil and he shifted, then a second later, he
sheathed his cock inside me, a single hard, continuous thrust, and
I came again, so fast and shockingly good, I cried. My forehead
rolled on his truck as his cock pumped into me again, filling
me.

He fisted his hand around my hair, dragged
my head back to his, and whispered, “I’ve been waiting for you a
long time,” and with another long thrust, he came inside me.

I felt it, thick, surging heat. My body
shook from the power of it. I was dizzy, couldn’t think, wasn’t
aware of how hot the hood of the car was, or of the sound of a car
starting to crunch down the long rocky road. I was only aware of
how hard his body was, how he’d lit me up from the inside out.

He leaned down kissed the back of my head,
then slowly pulled out. I felt like I’d been emptied. He flipped my
skirt down and reached for my hand.

“Are we done?” I asked, feeling stunned.

“I’m not.” He grabbed me by the hand and
took me inside.