Jane makes this adorable face of concern for my health—until she realizes what I mean. She glances down at my dick and then meets my gaze again.
“Oh,” she says. “Now?”
I don’t mean to let it happen, but some inhuman grunt escapes my throat. Her eyes flash, her lips part, and she angles her face just right. The next moment, it’s all lips, hands, legs, heavy breaths, squeezes, and even a little bit of biting. I’m pressed against her body when she sucks my bottom lip into her mouth and nips it with her teeth. My cock jerks. My hands on her hips press her pelvis hard against me so she can feel what she does to me.
“Here? On Big Daddy?” she asks, breathless.
Chapter Fifteen
Jane
Henry’s easygoing nature vanishes when he’s horny as hell. He’s a beast. And I love it.
His kisses are hard, his strong body pulls me in so tight I lose my breath, and his voice drops an octave, complete with monosyllabic answers.
“Yeah,” he says.
His rough kisses are so delicious I don’t want them to ever stop. But I have so many questions. “Won’t we break it?”
“He can take it,” Henry grits out, fumbling with the button and zipper of my jeans. “Pants. Off.”
I don’t even think about it. I need this. The fact that this is happening outside—a thing I’ve never done before—somehow makes me even more aroused.
While I’m clumsily removing my jeans, Henry hastily pulls out a condom from his wallet, then unbuckles his belt and his jeans. When the breeze hits my bare legs, I shiver in excitement.
Jeans and undies cast to the ground, Henry pulls off his shirt and spreads it out on top of Big Daddy. Always polite, even in his moments of passion. I think I need to marry him tomorrow.
My body lights up in anticipation when he attacks me with his mouth again.
I need more. More of everything, more skin against skin. He reads my mind and helps me off with my shirt.
“I need it now, sweetheart,” he says.
I nod my head and open my legs to him. With my ass seated on Big Daddy, I wrap my legs around Henry’s hips as he guides the tip in.
He’s hesitating for my comfort, but I don’t need him to.
“More,” I whisper.
He pushes in, stretches me out, and my muscles grab onto his shaft. “Holy fuck,” he says. “So fucking tight. Oh my god.”
I need him to keep kissing me and he senses the need before I can even get the words out. He angles his mouth over mine in a searing gesture of ownership that sends me out of my mind. His tongue plunges down the back of my throat as he buries his cock inside of me. We’re smashing together on top of a fucking pumpkin, but my brain barely registers this fact anymore. His rough hands grip me, guiding our hips together as he gives one hard thrust.
“Yes, oh my god,” I breathe.
“Take that dick,” he growls.
“All of it,” I whisper.
I’ve never fucked outdoors before. It feels insane but also perfect and primal. He’s thrusting so hard and so good, I’m barely thinking about the fact that we could break this pumpkin and end up in a huge mess. It’s so wild and free and lovely.
“This is nuts,” I say.
He thrusts in hard again; I yelp and mewl like a cat. “Don’t you have faith in the hardness of my pumpkin? Don’t you think I know what I’m doing, woman?”
My voice squeaks in delicious submission to his commanding tone. “Baby, I have faith in the hardness of all of your gourds.”
“Shit!” he yells, pushing in harder, faster, my hips echoing the motion and my inner walls clamping and squeezing and barely letting him slide back out.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight, I’m barely able to pull out.”
Licking my lips, I tell him, “Then make me squirt with your mouth.”
He laughs, his hot breath against my ear. He gives one mighty thrust and my body takes it, but he holds still and says in my ear, just above a whisper, “This pussy is mine. I fucking own it. I’m the only one who’s ever going to make you come ever again, do you hear me?”
Everything lets go and it just happens. As I squirt, I cry out, “That’s right. Right there.” I bear down again, milking him as he slides out.
“Fuck, that pussy is a work of art.”
I continue to urge him onward. We’re as close as two people can be but I need him closer, both physically and emotionally. I want us to come together, and he’s closer than I am. I reach down to touch my clit. He sees me reaching and rumbles against my chest, “Hands on me, baby. That’s my clit.”
I gasp, but I do as he says.
“Hold on to that fucking pumpkin.”
I nod and reach reassert my grip on the firm flesh of the giant squash. While he holds my hips with one arm, he reaches down to rub my clit with the pad of his thumb, all the while still nailing me on top of this goddamn 600-pound pumpkin.
I was so close already that I can’t hold back for him. With his tongue halfway down my throat, he swipes his thumb over my clit and my release barrels through me like thunder. I have to break the kiss to let it all out. I cry out his name. “Fuck, Henry! Yes!”
When I say his name, he roars out his orgasm with one massive thrust.
The next thing I know, we’re tumbling to the ground, me on top of him, both of us panting and yelping, shocked at the shattering climaxes we just experienced and at the fact that we’re on the ground.
He goes from animal Henry to tender Henry in two seconds. “Are you OK? Are you hurt?” He’s picking leaves out of my hair and running his hands on my sides, his eyes checking me over.
“Henry,” I rasp, laughing. “Thank you. I needed
