When we finally reach the open gate, I race into the right turn, and she misses the sign, prompting me with her question.
“Where are we?” She asks, glancing around.
“Alone.” Which is all that fucking matters. I don’t want an audience anywhere near us. Whether it be a wall or a fucking bay door. As much as it turns Sean on at times, voyeurism isn’t really my thing. She made it clear the night of the Meetup—it’s not for her, either. On that, we’re straight. Privacy is a necessity because I want her to be as vocal as she was our first day alone together.
Wipers sliding the rain from view, I hear the mud and gravel collect on my tires as they grip enough road to get us past endless rows of ripe green vines to the left and right of us. Stopping just outside of the wine cellar carved into the mountain cliff, I exit and round the car. Pulling her out of the passenger seat and straight into me, I crush her lips in a bruising kiss. Trailing my fingers between her thighs, I nudge her panties to the side. Thrusting two fingers up to the knuckles, I squeeze her pussy lips between my thumb, ring, and pinky. Using the grip, I cradle them around my swirling digits to ready her. She breaks our kiss with her pleasured cry, parted lips against mine. Recapturing her mouth, I swallow her noise down in an attempt to partially satiate the beast.
Rain batters us both outside my passenger door as lightning cracks, the storm feeling like more of a result of us, than nature’s permission.
Every drop of rain that falls unleashes me. Feral with hunger, I walk her into the open cellar, clicking on the light.
Just feet inside the open door sits the edge of a twenty-foot table littered with scattered flowers, jars, and floral supplies, no doubt abandoned after I called. Uninterested in our surroundings, Cecelia’s hands snake beneath my T-shirt, fingers tracing my abs as she sucks the rain from my neck, using her free hand to grip my cock.
“Dom,” she breathes as she drags her teeth along my skin, raking her nails down my chest. Inhaling a breath of patience, I swipe one of Cindy’s offerings from the top of a nearby barrel and unscrew the top with my teeth while palming Cecelia toward the edge of the table.
“Pull your dress around your hips.”
She complies, the material cinched at her waist before I press her flat to the surface. Eyes shimmering with anticipation, she gapes up at me as I blaze my own trail down her body. Flattening my hand on the table next to her head, I hover a beat before doling out my next order. “Open.”
Taking a swig of the wine as she parts her perfect lips, I dip and funnel the wine from my mouth into hers, the “hmm” in her throat fueling me.
Pulling down the soft material at her shoulder to free her nipple, I flick my tongue against it as she clutches my head. Armed with another mouthful of red, I draw her nipple into the mix, and she arches against me. Pulling it in deeper, I suck hard, a reminder of our last time together. I’m satisfied she needs none as her beg drifts into my ear. “Dom, please, please.”
Ensuring her thirst remains—as do her cravings—I splash some wine over her nipple before sucking it in. The spillage runs along her flawless skin, ruining the collar of her dress. Pouring more, I make my way down her torso, laving every trail I can catch with my tongue before stopping to lap at the shallow pool gathered in her belly button. Her eyes follow when I hit my knees, drag her to the edge and push her thighs apart.
Tipping the bottle, I free-pour over the thin cobalt strip covering her pussy, before sucking the whole of it into my mouth. Through the silky material, I tease her clit with fast flicks of my tongue. She begins to buck, needing more focused attention for release, but I deny her, opting to feel that explosion on my cock. Taking my time, I watch her writhe. I bring her to the edge as she does my bidding, my name tumbling from her lips half a dozen times—the sound of it pulls me further into our present cocoon. The only goddamn place I want to be. Ensnared by her melodic moans, she sweeps me up into a blue undertow as I set the bottle on the nearby barrel, freeing both hands to touch her.
“Dom!” she pants, “I need you now.”
Feeling is mutual.
The hard concrete is unforgiving at my knees, and I know the table can’t be comfortable—but I can’t spare a fuck to give. Hooking her panties with my fingers, I tug them down her legs before snapping to stand, bringing her with me, and lifting the ruined dress over her head. When I toss my shirt aside, she grabs my injured wrist and gazes up at me while placing reverent kisses along it. Her expression and the act convey just how much she cares as the crack she formed in my chest widens a little further.
Words fail me as she continues to gaze up at me, completely bare, trust in her stare. In that moment, I want to warn her not to so freely give things I haven’t earned and don’t deserve. My heartbeat shifts, pounding in a remorseful rhythm as everything stops in those few seconds, and she stares up at me with faith in her eyes.
I’m deceiving her.
Brows drawing, she palms my jaw, trying her best to read the reason for my hesitation, but lust and hunger win.
Turning her to face the table, I rip my wallet from my pants and press her flat to the surface. Tearing the package with my teeth, I lift her knee to rest on the edge. After plucking the condom free, I press my fingers inside her, twisting them along her G-spot in beckoning.
“Fuck, please,” she rasps out in a prayer for me to speed up as I keep at my task, feeling the tell-tale swell at the pads of my fingers before I’m satisfied. Withdrawing them, it’s the vision of her glistening pussy that fucking undoes me.
Unfastening my jeans, I pull out my dick and secure the condom on the tip as her back rises and falls. The vision of her spread and ready force the words out.
“You’re so goddamn perfect, Cecelia,” I confess before bending to bite down on her shoulder, cheek flat against the table, I feed her my fingers and she sucks them eagerly.
Though I could ready her all day, the lust overrides me to the point that I’m still rolling on the condom when I thrust into her.
The surge of pleasure as I press into her has me roaring, “fuck!”
Covering her back with my chest, and pinning her crooked knee with my own, I flatten her hands to the table with mine and start furiously pumping into her. Pleasure sieges me as mewls leave her with every thrust. The table rattles as I piston into her, flowers falling off the sides as a few jars crash onto the concrete. After a few rough strokes, I pull back to my feet, watching my cock and her stretch around it as she desperately tries to hold on. Feeling her start to succumb, I snake an arm around her waist to lock her to me. She starts to shudder as I pick up even more speed. “Give it up.”
Within a few targeted thrusts, she’s shuddering beneath me, ragged intakes of breath interrupting her moan as her leg buckles. Gripping her hips as she crumbles, I secure her waist with my other arm and use both to lift her from the ground as I thrust her through the orgasm. She goes limp as it subsides, and my wrist starts to fail as I set her down. I gently turn her on her back and soak in the look of her. Her hair is tangled, lips swollen, perfect tits beaded, chest heaving, and her eyes are clouded with release. The roar intensifies as I lift her heels to rest at the edge of the table. Gripping her hips, I slowly drag her down the surface and onto my waiting dick, watching as, inch by inch, it disappears into her wet heat. Her breath hitches at the invasion, and I pause a beat, allowing her time to acclimate.