He felt her hesitation and he understood it. It was as if the demand held unspoken words as well. No matter how raw I make you, how vulnerable I insist you become, I still want more.
Slowly, though, she began parting her thighs—wider, wider—until her bare feet dangled from either side of the slide, over the raised edges. The move, as intended, put her pussy on bold display, and the dark of night didn’t prevent him from seeing how wetly it glistened. His cock, still jutting from his open pants, tightened further still.
“Touch yourself for me,” he said then, voice lower, almost a whisper.
He heard more than saw her sharp intake of breath—but he chose not to acknowledge it. Instead, he just encouraged her. “Stroke your middle finger up the center of your hot, wet slit. And know how much it excites me.”
Her breath seemed shaky then, and in one sense he was sorry to push her so hard, but in another he felt relentless, determined to make her open to him completely, totally, with nothing held back.
And then he watched as she gingerly reached down and traced a small, gentle line up the center of her open pink flesh, shivering at the sensation.
And damn—he shivered a little, too. He hadn’t seen that coming, expected such an intense reaction from himself, but there it was. “That’s so good, baby,” he told her sweetly. “So fucking good.”
And now he felt it in his dick as well, powerful and hot.
His breath had grown shallow and he almost found it difficult to get his next words out. “Now do it again. Slower this time. Deeper.”
The command produced another soft inhalation from her that he could hear. And then the lovely sight of her fingers, two of them this time, stroking more lushly into her soft, moist folds. The gentle breath she released at the end was like a quiet punctuation mark that labeled the task as finished.
“That’s perfect, babe, so perfect. You’re amazing,” he informed her. Both because it was true and because he knew such praise would help prod her forward when he said, “Now play with your clit. Run your fingers over it in little circles. Just like if you were alone and needed to get yourself off.” And he knew a woman like April probably never touched herself just because she wanted to—only when she absolutely needed to—so it was probably like taking medicine for her, an occasionally necessary evil.
“But I—”
“Shhh,” he said soothingly, stopping her, and made a point of delivering firm words in a gentle tone. “Don’t argue. You’ve been such a good girl for me tonight. Don’t fuck it up now. Just do it. Do what I tell you. Please me, April.”
The expression on her face was almost one of pain as she began to rub her clit as he’d instructed, and it came with more quivery breathing—and yet she did it, and he was proud of her, proud and impressed as hell.
Her eyes shut and he could see her beginning to accept the pleasure she brought herself, no longer trying to push it away, attempting to forget whatever embarrassment it brought her.
“Aw, babe—you’re so fucking pretty like this,” he murmured, watching her every move and soon stroking his cock as well.
And part of him wanted to just keep going like that, wanted to watch her apply those hot little circular touches to her swollen clit until she came, hard, just for him. But another, bigger part of him couldn’t take it—he couldn’t wait another second before fucking her.
He never made the conscious decision to move toward the slide—he simply became aware of his body growing closer to it, to her. He practically fell onto her, so great was his rush, ramming his erection deep into her sweet, drenched cunt more violently than he ever had before.
She let out a soft yelp, but a mere second later was moaning in delight as her arms and legs closed around him, pulling him to her tight.
His knees pressed into the hard metal of the slide as his mouth came down on hers, simply needing more and more of her, every way he could get it. Their bodies fell into a natural rhythm then, slamming together hard, hard, hard, and he couldn’t remember the last time such animal lust had taken him over. If ever. He’d thought he’d experienced full-on animal mode with Mira at that cabin, and he’d thought he’d known it again with April, every time they’d been together so far. But this was somehow more. It was his body taking over, his cock taking what it needed, with or without his consent.
And she moved against him with the same primal abandon as their heated breathing filled the night air.
He didn’t know how long they fucked that way before he lightly collapsed atop her from pure exhaustion. But when he did, it gave him the chance to come back to himself a little, and to remember—he wanted more than this, this mindless, untamed fucking; he wanted to wrench more from this experience for both of them.
And at the same time, he couldn’t really stop to examine how exactly he wanted to do this—he was running on pure instinct. And his instinct spurred him to pull out of her then—making her gasp and whisper, “No!” which he loved—and ease his body down hers until his knees connected with the sand at the foot of the slide. Then he used his hands to part the folds between her legs even farther and sink his tongue there.
She tasted like sweat and sex and the salty sweetness that emanated naturally from her pussy, and he simply bathed his mouth in it, licking deeper, deeper, wanting to soak inside her there, and also wanting to make her come.
It was that last desire that led to more focused ministrations—when she responded, panting softly, heatedly, gripping onto the sides of the slide, he dragged his tongue upward, onto that incredibly engorged little nub she’d been rubbing for him so dutifully a few minutes before. A high whimper escaped her and he replied by swirling his tongue lovingly around and around until she was quivering with pleasure.
And then her hands were in his hair and her pussy began pumping against his face, and though it was, in that moment, a little hard to feel quite as dominant with her as usual, he loved it still. He loved her enthusiasm, he loved that she’d let herself go, he loved that they were both in this now, all the way, a hundred percent, no hesitation.
Her cries when she came were sharp and guttural, and he had a feeling she’d actually forgotten where they were or she might have kept it a little quieter—but he loved that, too. He sucked on her clit as she spasmed against his mouth over and over again, until at last a final shudder echoed through her and her body went still, relaxing back against the metal.
She breathed heavily, recovering, and he let her have a moment—but the truth was, he didn’t want to wait; he was ready to barrel forward with more. He got to his feet, and the second her breathing relaxed, he held down a hand and said, “Get up. Come with me.”
“Where are we going?” She looked surprised, and she was probably tired—but too bad.
“Just get up,” he told her, and so she did, and he led her around to one of the elaborate play area’s ladders, still beneath the sail, and motioned her upward. She began to climb and he slapped her ass, just because it was in front of him and he suddenly remembered that naughty spanking he’d given her, and it sent a burst of raw lust shooting through his veins. Time to be dominant again, a little rougher; time to make sure she knew who was in charge here.
He followed her upward, still entranced by her outdoor nudity, until they reached a small tower that led to an elevated tunnel little kids could crawl through. He wasn’t sure why he’d brought them here—he guessed he’d just wanted to explore a little bit, find another good place to fuck her brains out—and now that they were here, this one seemed perfectly good.
So without even giving her a chance to turn around, he planted his hands on her hips and told her to grab the waist-high rail in front of her. As soon as she’d braced herself, he got in position and drove back into her warm, wet flesh. They both cried out—God, it was damn good to be connected again—and he had to shut his eyes for a second to adjust to the depth of pleasure it brought.
“Aw, baby,” he growled as he began to thrust into her cunt in deep, steady strokes. Jud
ging by her reaction, she seemed to feel each and every one just as profoundly as he did.
“Tell me you love to be fucked, little girl,” he murmured near her ear.
She cried out slightly at each hard stroke he delivered, but in between she whimpered softly, “I do. Oh God, I do.”
“Aw, that’s so good—so, so good,” he praised her. And it was. He couldn’t have imagined his Ginger would be this tame, this pliable, even the last time they’d been together. It was as if she’d been transformed. And he liked the transformation more than he could even begin to process—something about it, that she was making herself his in this way, burrowed deep down inside him to a warm place he’d seldom been.
In between their moans and heated sighs, Rogan had for a while been hearing distant rumbles of thunder, and now another clap of it sounded overhead, louder. He’d already learned that during hot weather here, it was common, sometimes daily, for brief but intense downpours to occur, and he supposed they were in for one. And as a cool breeze from the impending storm whipped up under the sail and around them, it somehow drove him to fuck her harder, wilder, his fingers digging into her hips as he pounded into her.
Her cries grew in response and he let himself go, let himself drift into pure primal lust, loving that she was right there with him, too. Heat filled his cheeks as he focused on the warm velvet glove that welcomed his cock with every inward thrust. Nothing else existed, anywhere. There was only him and her and the sail overhead and the children’s play tower upon which they stood.
And then there was the rain, suddenly beating upon the canvas fabric up above them and the ground beyond. A glance to his right revealed it slashing almost sideways through the air. He slammed into her waiting body again, again, again, as driven by the violence of the storm that now surrounded him as by his body and his hunger.
And then came the point of no return, the moment of imminent pleasure, when he said, “Aw fuck, babe. I’m coming. I’m coming.”
He emptied his passion into her sweet, hot pussy in four hard plunges—then he slumped forward onto her back, letting his arms fold around her as he did.
They stayed silent for a few blissful seconds as Rogan came back to his senses, and then he heard himself whisper near her ear, “You okay?”
“Um . . . yeah. Yes.” She sounded a little taken aback that he would ask. And maybe he didn’t completely understand the urge himself—but it suddenly seemed important to make sure.
After that he simply pulled out of her, listened to the short gasp that left her upon his departure, and when she turned in his arms to face him, all beautiful and vulnerable and sexy—God, he had to kiss her. She reached for him in the exact same moment and it was like those very first times in the alley outside the Café Tropico, except that she was naked and willing now.
They kissed wildly, feverishly, devouring each other with their mouths, tongues. It tasted like sex and sweat and rain and the stark hunger she inspired in him, like they couldn’t get enough of each other, even having just fucked like animals.
The kissing went on for a few long, amazing minutes until finally they stopped, resting their foreheads together, both breathing raggedly in each other’s arms.
Wordlessly, they sank together to the floor of the tower to wait out the rain, ending up in a loose, comfortable embrace, her knees bent and crossing his lap.
Without quite meaning to, April snuggled against him. It was in one sense so strange to find herself here, on a playground, naked, curled up with a man—yet in another . . . well, maybe she was finally starting to get used to the idea. Or maybe Rogan Wolfe was beginning to feel a little less like a stranger to her. They’d just had phenomenal sex and . . . she trusted him now. In that way anyway. She trusted him to make her feel good.
And maybe the part about giving up control was coming a bit easier, too. It was just a matter of turning off her brain when she was busy being turned on by him.
Though, of course, she still wanted to . . . know him. More than just the dominant, sexual side of him. “Do you . . . come to this park often?”
When he let out a laugh, she supposed it had sounded like a misguided attempt at small talk and the old Come here often? pickup line combined—and issuing it right after hot sex made it all the more silly. “Um, I’ve passed through it a couple times to get to the beach. This is my first real stop, though.”
“Well, you . . . made it count,” she said a bit shyly.
And another laugh erupted from him, even as he used one bent finger to lift her chin so that he could look into her eyes. “You definitely helped,” he said with a typical wolfish grin.
She bit her lip, feeling a bit sheepish about it now that they were peering so intently at each other again—but fortunately not sheepish enough to mind being here with him like this. She was settling in, in fact, getting used to it, this idea of being naked with her fully clothed lover on a play set in a park. It was more than a little surreal, like so much of what she’d experienced with Rogan, but . . . maybe surreal was starting to feel almost like another form of normal at this point.
“I wish you were naked, too,” she said without considering the words.
He flashed another sexy smile. “Now wait a minute, Ginger—who’s calling the shots here?”
The reminder made her giggle girlishly, something she seldom did. But she supposed Rogan brought out a lot of unusual responses in her. “I think I handled this all quite admirably,” she pointed out to him.
“So do I,” he agreed, and even now, the approval went to her core, making her feel like his good girl again.
“And it’s still not easy, just so you know,” she told him. For some reason, it remained important to make sure he knew that. “It still really . . . clashes with who I usually am. It clashes with my sense of independence, and my strength, to enjoy this.”
He leaned slightly closer to her, and even that simple little gesture made her pussy surge with fresh moisture. “We talked about why,” he reminded her as if it were an amazingly simple thing.
“I know. It’s just—”
He lifted a finger, pressed it to her lips to quiet her. “Just enjoy it for what it is, babe. I know you can do that. I’ve seen you do it—very well. Just hold on to that.”
She nodded, taking comfort in his encouragement as well as from still being in his arms right now. The last two times they’d had sex she’d hardly been in the mood to snuggle afterward, but this time . . . well, it was nice, even under the weird circumstances.
“Tell me more about you,” she said.
And he immediately raised his eyebrows, as if she were usurping his authority again.
But she simply tilted her head. “Game’s over for now. And I just want to know the man I’m doing these things with a little better. Fair enough?”
He relented with a shrug. “Okay, sure—fair enough, I guess. What do you want to know?”
Her mind flew immediately back to the question he’d brushed off once before. “Tell me about your family. You said last time I saw you that they weren’t in your life anymore. What happened to them?”
When he didn’t answer right away, she pointed out, “I told you about mine, and it’s not like it was a pretty picture, you know? It’s not like it was the easiest information in the world to share. So I don’t think it’s too much to ask for you to return the favor—do you?”
He let out a long sigh, then finally said, “Okay, Ginger, here goes. I’m the oldest of four brothers, born and raised outside of Lansing, Michigan. My parents . . . weren’t great people. Enough said. Now—new subject. What else do you want to know about me?”
She sat there listening to the rain, thinking how close to him she’d felt a moment ago—and how something strange had just happened. She could feel the emotional wall he’d just thrown up between them almost as tangibly as if it were a physical thing, made of brick and mortar. He’d even looked away—out into the rain—while answering her.
“That’s all you’re go
ing to say, all you’re going to tell me?”
“You catch on fast,” he said, then tossed her a quick wink, maybe to keep the reply from sounding snotty.
And part of her was hurt. She’d told him personal things about her family, and it wasn’t a topic she enjoyed—but she’d shared it; she’d opened herself up to him. She supposed she’d felt that you should be able to be that open with someone you were having sex with.
But maybe she was placing more importance on sex than most people did these days. And she knew she couldn’t make him tell her something he didn’t want to—and the gruff look on his face now, even in the darkness, was something she wanted to wipe away somehow. “Then . . . tell me about being a cop,” she requested instead.
“I like it.”
“That’s deep,” she retorted.
He slanted a look in her direction. “Not everybody’s deep, Ginger.”
“Well, deep or shallow, you can still share a little something with me. I’m not asking for state secrets here. I’m just trying to feel like I know you a little better. It would . . .” Her voice softened. “It would make me feel a lot more comfortable with this situation. So come on, help me out here. Tell me why you became a cop.”
Even in the darkness, she sensed something pass over him—it wasn’t the same invisible wall he’d erected between them a minute ago, but even at this simple question she sensed he was going to hold something back. “I’m not sure,” he said. “Guess I just figured there was a lot of bad in the world and maybe I could do something to stop a little of it. And other people . . .”
When he trailed off, she said, “Other people what?”
He still wouldn’t look at her—though his gaze narrowed slightly. He lowered his eyes quickly, briefly, as he said, “Other people have more to lose than me. They have families that depend on them. And being a cop is dangerous, so I figured . . . I was a good person to do something like that.”
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