Until then, though? He had another way to show her how he felt.
And it was about goddamn time they got down to it.
Wells slowly approached Josephine where she stood at the cart, checking something in her scorebook. The closer he got to her, the more goose bumps appeared on the slope of her neck, highlighted by the sunshine. Her body shifted at his increasing nearness, teeth sinking into her bottom lip, her gaze flickering over at him from beneath her lashes.
Awareness. She was so fucking aware of him.
They’d been like this since the morning after the hurricane, hadn’t they? Thank God he had the freedom to act on it now. Mostly. They were still in view of the clubhouse.
Wells ignored the stab of resentment and leaned in slightly, enjoying the way his proximity made her chest rise and fall faster. “I can tell you want to wrap those gorgeous thighs around me,” he said hoarsely, in the air above her shoulder. “And baby, I need to get under that fucking skirt so bad. Tell me a private place to take you—and it better be close.”
She pressed her lips together to trap a moan. “Now?”
“Now.”
“Um . . . okay. Think.” She shook her head, as if to unscramble it. “We’re the last tee time, so no one is coming behind us. M-maybe . . . oh, I think the third hole has a thunder shelter?”
Wells had never moved faster, circling around the front of the cart and throwing himself into the driver’s seat, while Josephine got in the passenger side—and he gunned that motherfucker toward hole number three. Thunder shelters were in place on a lot of golf courses for players to take cover if the weather took an unexpected turn and they were left inconveniently holding a bunch of metal sticks. But that’s not what they’d be using it for today. Jesus. He couldn’t even make it home with this woman.
“I didn’t realize my swing was so inspiring,” she murmured, dazed.
“Now you know, belle.” He took a hard right to avoid a pin. “You ever want to win an argument with me? Just tee off.”
“I told you I was qualified to give lessons.”
“Oh, you’re giving me lessons, as soon as I can concentrate on anything but getting you off. I want a swing like Josephine Doyle’s.”
She swept him a breathless, sideways look. “You really mean that.”
Wells frowned. “Hell yeah, I mean it,” he roared—just as the thunder shelter came into view.
He pulled up behind the structure, the distance and position taking them well out of view of the clubhouse, and he hit the brakes, preparing to climb out, throw Josephine over his shoulder, and carry her inside, where he would fuck the stuffing out of her. But she surprised Wells by launching herself across the cart and climbing onto his lap, her mouth capturing his eagerly, whimpers popping in her throat. And God bless her, she straddled him in that cocktease skirt, her pussy warm and firm where it pressed down on his erection, rubbing, rubbing.
He had to break the kiss to let his head fall back, his hands naturally finding the tight globes of her butt cheeks and kneading her forward, urging her to hump him.
“Fuck yeah, baby. Good, good girl. Just like that.” He gathered up the material of her panties in a twist, turning the undergarment into a thong and tugging it roughly between her cheeks. Again, again, again. Noticing she humped him faster the harder he pulled, gasping into the kiss. “You want to trade lessons, Josephine?”
She kept right on kissing him, but made an affirmative sound in her throat, riding his lap with more eagerness, more insistence.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He massaged her right cheek, then brought his hand down on it in a sharp slap. “Still yes?”
Her green eyes were glassy as she tried to focus on him. “Yes.”
They never looked away from each other while he spanked her opposite cheek, then back to the right one. Smack. “Here’s your lesson. You wear a skirt, you’re going to get that pussy eaten and eaten good.” He cracked his palm down on her backside, slightly harder than before, and she shuddered, her breath escaping in a rush. “It’s very simple, isn’t it, Josephine?”
“Uh-huh.”
Wells meant every word of that lesson, too. He was starved for her. Needed to get a taste of that warm, wet flesh, now.
His own relief came secondary to the pleasure he’d get giving it to her.
Incapable of waiting another moment, he slid out of the golf cart seat with Josephine still attached to him and placed her sideways, sitting up on the driver’s seat, falling to his knees in front of her. Shoving open her smooth thighs. Biting her through the damp, white panties, all of her, as much as he could cover with his teeth, moaning at the little jolt in her inner thighs. The way her hand flew to the steering wheel to hold on, her belly hollowing in and out.