Page 28 of Fairground (Whitewood Creek Farm #3)

“We probably shouldn’t do this,” I murmur, my voice rough with need.?

“We absolutely shouldn’t,” she whispers, but her tone wavers, her resolve cracking right in front of me.

I smirk, my hands sliding up her thighs where I squeeze firmly. “I said shouldn’t . Not wouldn’t . Now lift your hips for me, baby.”

Her hesitation lasts a beat, two at most, before she shifts, lifting her hips just enough to give me access to her waistband.

My fingers deftly undo the button of her tight jeans, and with one smooth motion, I tug both her pants and panties down to her ankles.

The damp from the mist fabric clings to her skin, but she doesn’t protest or stop me.

She’s bare, exposed, and so fucking perfect it takes my breath away. Her slick heat glistens in the dim light, and I can’t hold back the groan that escapes me.

“Fuck, you’ve got a pretty pussy,” I mutter, gripping her hips to tug her closer to the edge of the bench so that I can get a better look. The lights from the rides reflect off her smooth skin causing her to glow.

She braces herself with her hands against the back of the cart, her legs spreading just enough to let me settle between them. My fingers find her entrance, and I slide one inside, slow and deliberate, feeling her squeeze me, my gaze locked on the way her body takes me in.

Her sharp gasp only spurs me on. I pull them out almost completely, circling her entrance with teasing strokes before sliding back in, this time adding a second finger. Her head tilts back, lips parting as her breath picks up again, and I can’t help but smile.

“Feel good?” I murmur, my thumb brushing her swollen clit in slow, focused circles.

Her only response is a broken moan, her hips lifting to meet my touch, and fuck if it isn’t the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

“You feel so good,” I murmur, watching her.

I lower my head, bringing my mouth to her pussy, and lick a long, slow stripe over her slit, ending with a flick against her swollen clit.

“Cash,” she breathes, her voice trembling, legs shaking.

The cart sways slightly as I adjust my weight in the bucket, trying to get better access to her. My fingers thrust deeper, curling to hit just the right spot, and the way her pussy grips me is pure perfection—hot, slick, and greedy.

I suck her clit into my mouth, teasing it with my tongue until it hardens under my touch. Her thighs tremble as I lose myself in the way she tastes—sweet and intoxicating, better than I’d even imagined.

She moans softly, her breath stuttering with every thrust of my fingers and flick of my tongue. I could stay here forever, devouring her, savoring her, edging her on. Rae feels like heaven, and I’m a starving man finally getting my fill.

Yes, I’ve always enjoyed eating a woman’s pussy. It tastes good. It’s soft, it’s sexy to see them fall apart, getting an orgasm at the hands of my fingers and tongue. But there’s something even nicer about doing it with Rae.

Her hands move from my shoulders to my hair as she scratches her long nails over my head, massaging in a way that makes me feel like a cat curled up in the sun getting a damn good belly rub.

My cock is painfully hard in my jeans as it strains to be contained by the denim and the rain’s picking up now, making for things even wetter between her legs and in the cart.

It’s a bit sloppier than I’d usually like to give, but it’s the best I can do in the cramped space with my tall frame, and when her fingers scrape right behind my ears again, I let out a deep hum against her clit, giving her some vibrations to work off.

That sets her off in a frenzy, her hips grinding against my face as if she can’t get enough.

Her moans grow louder, raw and unrestrained, until I know her orgasm is coming.

I feel the rhythmic pulse of her walls gripping my fingers, and I dive in harder, sucking and slurping without a care for the mess I’m making.

She’s trembling beneath my touch, undone, sighing out my name as she comes.

I feel the shake of her thighs; the squeeze of her pussy and it takes everything inside of me to not come in my denim.

I kiss her pussy through it, ease her through the wind down, and when I finally pull back, I look up to see her staring down at me. There’s a mixture of confusion and worry clouding her pretty features.

What the hell is she so worried about?

I’ve got this. I've got us.

Her voice is breathless, almost shaky. “W-what just happened, Cash?”

I swipe the back of my hand across my mouth and grin, unrepentant. “I just had the most delicious meal of my life.”

And I know now that won't be the last time. Standing, I help pull her pants and panties back over her soaked pussy then straighten myself out, smoothing my shirt like I didn’t just fall a little in love with her.

Then, I slide into the bench seat across from her, watching as she tries to catch her breath and spirals.

I can see it happening, her retreating into herself, the confusion, the worry but I'm not letting her back away.

Not again. As the Ferris wheel begins to near the ground, I give her a warning.

“Get ready to jump.”

Her eyes widen. “What? I don’t think my legs are working yet.”

I swing the gate open as we descend, scoop her up into my arms before she can protest, and leap out as the cart wobbles precariously.

We hit the ground with a slight stumble, but I’ve got her secure.

Yeah, it was a risky move—probably not my smartest considering I'm jumping with eight inches of steel in my pants hard as a rock, but it worked out.

She yelps, clutching at me, and when I set her down on her feet, she sways a little, still unsteady and I fucking love that I did that to her.

The rain has picked up, soaking us both to the bone, but I barely notice.

My hands find her cheeks, cradling her face as I push a damp strand of hair behind her ear and look into her eyes.

She looks wrecked and radiant all at once, her eyes darting everywhere like she’s trying to process what’s happening.

My little storm cloud, spinning in from nowhere and leaving me just as off-kilter.

I lower my head, capturing her lips with mine, trying to quiet whatever fears are swirling in that beautiful head of hers.

She doesn’t freeze this time. No hesitation.

Her lips part, her hands tangle in my shirt as she kisses me back with the kind of intensity that tells me I’ve got the green light to push further.

When we finally break apart, her eyes are wild, feral, and she grabs my wrist firmly.

Without a word, she drags me through the rain toward the haunted house, her determination pulling me along.

As soon as we step inside, the air shifts.

It’s dim and eerie, with the faint flicker of strobe lights illuminating a towering, masked figure in the corner.

But Rae’s not fazed. She’s a woman on a mission. Before I can say anything, she’s dropping to her knees in front of me, her fingers already working at the button of my soaked pants.

“Rae…” I start, my voice full of warning. “You don’t have to do this.”

She glances up at me, a wicked gleam in her eye. “We shouldn’t,” she says, throwing my earlier words right back at me.

I nod, swallowing hard. “We definitely shouldn’t.”

She smirks, her hands tugging at my jeans with no hesitation. “That doesn’t mean we won’t. Now, help me out.”

The fire in her voice, the challenge in her tone—it’s impossible to resist. I unbutton my pants, letting them fall to the floor in front of her along with my briefs, as she takes me in for the first time.