Page 49 of Forked (Frenched 2)
“And so wet.” I smiled, circling my hips a few times, arching my back to feel pressure where I wanted it. I knew we couldn’t take our time, but I wanted to savor this moment a little—the sweet summer air, Nick’s hot, hard body between my thighs; his thick fullness within me; even the secret thrill of getting caught. I’d never had sex outside in the daylight. It was delightfully liberating. I slid my palms beneath his shirt, flattened them on his torso. Fuck, he was just so gorgeous—I could look at that mouth all day. And those arms—my eyes skimmed over his muscular, tattooed forearms to the strong wrists at my hips. Guided by Nick’s hands, I moved my body over his, faster and faster, the tension pulling tight between us.
“Yes,” he growled, his eyes closing, his head dropping back. “Fuck yes. I’m gonna come...so hard…”
But I came first, my insides clenching his cock like a vise before the tension eased in beautiful, flowing contractions that had me sighing one long, drawn-out note. Just as my orgasm finished, Nick’s began, and I felt his body stiffen and shudder, heard his low moan of blissful relief. My God, we’re so good together. Why does it have to be so good?
Collapsing on his chest, I buried my face in his neck, my chest rising and falling in time with his.
His hands slid up my back. “Oh my God. I can’t even think. What are we doing?”
I giggled. “Being friends?”
“Oh, right. Friends.”
I knew I should get up, clean up, wise up. But it was just so peaceful and comfortable, lying there on his chest, our bodies still connected, Nick’s hands rubbing my back.
“Coco. I have to tell you something.”
I sat up and smiled at him, squeezed his cock with my core muscles. “Let me guess. Your dick is really fucking happy right now.”
“No.” He shook his head, his expression serious. “I just realized something.”
“What?”
“I’m still in love with you.”
“Let me up.” I tried to get off him, but his hands pinned me to his body.
“No. I want to talk about this. About us.”
“Well, I don’t. And if you can’t separate sex from love, then we’re eliminating sex from the equation. We should have done that already.”
“These are my feelings, not a math problem.”
“Fine.” I looked around, threw up a hand. “I like how you bring me all the way out here to the country where I can’t escape to break the rules.”
“You never said I couldn’t talk about my feelings.”
Again I tried to get off him, and this time he let me. Warmth trickled down my leg, and I hunted around for a napkin. If it got on my dress, I’d have to change. “Do we not have napkins?” I asked, agitated.
“I think I forgot to buy them. Use the blanket.”
“The four hundred dollar Amish quilt?”
“OK, here.” Grabbing his t-shirt behind his neck, he whipped it off and handed it to me. “Use this. I’ll grab another shirt from the car.”
I took the shirt and cleaned up with it, turning away from him a little, and Nick packed up the trash and extra food. When I was done, I folded up the shirt and tugged my underwear back in place. I was sticky and still a bit wet, but it was better than nothing. “Are you ready to go?”
“No. I want to talk.”
“Nick, I said no.” I started to stand, but he grabbed my arm, his grip firm.
“Then let me talk. You can just listen.”
“I don’t want to listen.”
“Are you shutting me out to punish me? Is that what this is about?” he demanded.
“No!” Wait, it wasn’t, was it?
