Page 67 of A Real Goode Time

I wanted to feel her come again, to make her scream again. To keep her naked and orgasming until she begged me to let her stop coming. I wanted her mouth on my cock. I wanted her pussy on my tongue. I wanted her to ride me until my cock refused to get hard again.

I wanted to make hermine.

The potency of that possessiveness scared the hell out of me.

The virulent, scorching, all-consumingneedI felt for Torie Goode was terrifyingly intense.

And she was a virgin.

She’d never felt a man penetrate her.

Never been held in the afterglow, sated and replete and aching and full of satisfaction.

Shit, this was bad.

I had to talk to her.

I’d paced the parking lot about a dozen times thinking this over, and gotten nowhere but I was hard as a rock and confused as hell.

I went back inside, locking the door behind me.

The lights were off, because we’d never turned them on—the only light was a sliver of dim orange glow from the parking lot lights through the curtains. Torie was naked on the bed, splayed diagonally across it.

Asleep.

On her back, her head turned to the side, one hand resting low on her belly, the other curled up against her cheek. One knee drawn up, foot flat against the inside of her calf. She was displayed for me, and I soaked up the sight of her. Considering what we’d just done, I didn’t feel guilty for staring at her, for memorizing her features. She had a mole on her left hip, and a small red birthmark under her right breast, near the outside, close enough underneath that it would likely be hidden by her breast when she was standing up. A spray of freckles dotted her belly. A small thin white scar ran at an angle over her right hipbone.

God, her curves were absurd. How could she be so slender and svelte, yet still have hips that wouldn’t quit? Thin, slender waist, flat stomach, and a curve to her hips and ass and thighs that was just…too much for my poor male brain to handle without walking around erect all the time.

Those tits.

All that hair? God, so much thick black hair. She’d had it braided, but as we’d driven with the top back, it had slowly begun to come free of the braid, and now, in her sleep, it was more undone than it was braided. I wanted to see it loose, to run my fingers through the shimmery raven-black tresses and feel it draped in a waterfall around my face as she rode me…

I clenched a fist and turned away from her, forcing my breathing to slow, trying to force my libido to slow down.

God, I was tired.

I wasn’t a guy to pass out the moment I blew my load, but it did make me tired, and I’d already been tired from barely sleeping for two days and then spending the day in the car. So now I was deliriously exhausted.

And Torie was taking up the entire bed.

I didn’t want to disturb her.

Dared not touch her. Because I was so horny that even exhausted, my hands would likely do something inappropriate.

But Ihadto lie down.

I had to just move her, or wake her up enough to get her to slide over, just a little.

I sat on the edge of the bed, slid my hands under her shoulders, lifted gently, and moved her over.

She stirred, snuffled, shifted. Eyes fluttered. “Hmmm?” It was more of a sound than a word.

“Sorry. Just getting into bed.”

She nodded sleepily, gave a little half smile that about melted my heart straight to liquid. “Mmmmhmmm.”

She fell back asleep. Without making room.