Page 34 of Hide From Me

"What about..." she trails off as my thumb brushes the underwire of her bra. "What about your dad?"

“Don't know him.”

She lets out a defeated huff, and her fingers slip into the hairs on the back. of my head. “Your adopted parents then? What about them?”

Thankfully, she doesn’t stop me as I tug at the fabric and pull her shirt over her head. I don't want to think about anything else right now; I just want to focus on the gorgeous woman before me, unfazed by the cool air that causes goosebumps to rise across her smooth skin.

“Hopefully, they're somewhere beautiful. I think they would have liked you,” I whisper as I place a kiss on her chest. Her fingers thread into my hair, and she takes a sharp breath.

I half expect her to laugh or tell me I’m being too much again, that it’s too intimate—but she doesn’t. And that might be what wrecks me the most.

Because when I close my eyes, I can see my mom smiling widely, embarrassing me in front of Raylen with every dumb story she can dig up. I can see my dad throwing his head back in that full-belly laugh of his when Raylen makes a jab at me.

It’s been years since I remembered them like that… happy.

Alive.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

I don’t say anything back. Not because I don’t mean it, but because she doesn’t realize that I should be the one thanking her—for the calm, for the quiet, for making me feel like a man and not a fucking monster.

My lips trail lower, skimming along the soft curve of her breast, and my fingers find the waistband of her shorts. She steps back, silent permission, and I slide them down.

“Sorry, sunshine,” I say with a crooked grin, “but I think I’m done with questions.”

She tries not to smile but fails, her smirk betraying her. And then I see it—she’s not wearing any underwear. My jaw flexes.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I groan, licking my bottom lip, dragging my eyes up her bare thighs, over the glistening, shaved mound between them

She shrugs and unclasps her bra, voice purring with dark amusement. “I didn't want to risk another pair being ripped.”

In an instant, my arm wraps around her waist, and I twist our bodies until she’s seated on the edge of the bench. For some odd reason, I feel frozen, keeping my face so close to hers as she hurriedly works on my belt. My focus flicks over her features, taking in every small expression she makes. She’s too gorgeous for me—too pure, yet she wants to act otherwise. She deserves someone who would lay her down in bed and kiss every inch of her skin until it’s engraved in her mind just how perfect she is. But I’m a selfish man, and if this is the only way I can have her, then I’ll take it every single time.

“Moe,” sShe whines, and my jaw clenches at the soft plea in her voice.

“Shh, baby. Patience.” I mutter as my mouth finds its way back to her throat, my teeth skimming the flesh ever so lightly. It's just a tease, only a taste. I want her to feel it. I need to know that I'm not the only one in this storm that brews between us. Her hand dips into my boxers and frees me, and fuck, I nearly lose it. My hips nudge her legs wider, cock brushing against her slick heat as I guide her down against the worn bench, the wood creaking under us. She flinches slightly, but not from discomfort—just surprise.

“What are you doing?” She pants as my cock slowly brushes her soaked entrance.

“Enjoying you,” I say, brushing my nose against her throat. I groan as I push inside her tight heat, her body arching as I stretch her open.

“Fuck, you feel good. Let me make you feel the same.” I nip her nipple, tugging gently, and she moans so loudly it echoes down the hillside. I bottom out with a ragged breath, letting her adjust as her walls pulse around me.

I don’t want to ruin her. I want to worship her. My hands roam greedily—her thighs, her hips, her ribs. I mark her with my mouth, red patches blooming on her skin from where I’ve bit and sucked, unable to stop.

“You're going too slow.” She whines.

I slide one hand under her thigh and hike it higher around my waist, bracing myself against the bench. I draw out slowly, then thrust again—deep, slow, dragging every inch through her until she whimpers.

“I know,” I whisper, pulling away from her skin long enough to look at her greedy cunt sucking me deeper. “Fuck.”

I brace my palm on the table, my knuckles curling into the splintered wood. The view is almost too much—the tight slick heat of her wrapped around me like a vice, her breasts bouncing with every motion, and her mouth open in breathless moans.

“Moe…” It sounds like a warning falling from her lips, even if it's broken and hoarse, pulling my attention back to hers. She’s perfect. She always has been. But this? Her, like this—wrapped around me, skin glowing with heat, lips parted and eyes heavy with need as they focus on the sky—this is a kind of perfection I never knew I could touch.

“Look at me, baby,” I breathe against her lips. “Let me see what I do to you.”

My lips barely graze hers before she turns her head, and my jaw clenches. Her hands are in my hair again, trying to pull my mouth back to her neck, but I know that skin like the back of my hand by now. The spot just below her ear makes her shoulders tense and her back arch, while the hollow of her throat has her biting her lip.