Page 75 of Role Play (Off the Books #1)

In one smooth motion, he stands to remove his jeans and boxers, then rejoins me on the mattress.

The sight of him fully naked in the string lights’ glow is breathtaking—all lean muscle and perfect proportions, his arousal evident and more than impressive.

Truthfully? Maybe too much. Almost too much.

His eyes darken as he watches me take him into my mouth.

The weight of him on my tongue is substantial, the taste a heady mixture of salt and skin that sends renewed desire spiraling right where I was just excessively replete.

I work my way down his length, taking him as deep as I can, reveling in the way his thighs tense beneath my palms.

“Christ, Sora,” he groans, one hand clasping a fistful of my hair, not guiding but anchoring himself. “Your mouth… fuck .”

The raw need in his voice spurs me on. I establish a rhythm, alternating between long, slow strokes and focused attention to his sensitive head, my hand working what my mouth can’t reach.

His breathing grows more ragged with each pass, the muscles in his abdomen tightening in the golden glow of the string lights.

The scent of him is criminally erotic—clean sweat but with a hint of earth and something uniquely Forrest that I crave beyond measure.

How would a heroine describe that scent…

? No—stop that. Stop working. When I glance up, the sight brings me right out of my head and nearly undoes me completely—his head thrown back, throat exposed, lips parted as broken sounds escape him.

I could do it: write a bestseller, hang the flippin’ moon, all the things.

What could be as profoundly satisfying as reducing this strong, controlled man to wordless pleasure?

“Baby, stop,” he finally manages, his voice strained. “I need to be inside you.”

I release him with reluctance, pressing one final kiss to the tip, letting his salty precum vanish on the tip of my tongue, while allowing him to hoist me up into his arms. He crushes his mouth to mine, the kiss desperate and claiming, his hands roaming over my body with renewed urgency.

“Turn around,” he murmurs against my lips. “I want you from behind, cowgirl.”

The command sends a fresh surge of electricity between my thighs. I comply, positioning myself on hands and knees, feeling intensely vulnerable and powerful all at once. The cool night air whispers across my heated skin, raising goose bumps along my spine that Forrest soothes away with warm palms.

“Look at you,” he breathes, reverence clear in his voice as his hands trace the curve of my hips, the dip of my waist. I wiggle my hips, egging him on. “Good girl. Make me want it. So fucking perfect.”

I feel him positioning himself, the blunt pressure of him seeking entrance.

When he pushes in, it’s with exquisite slowness that has us both gasping.

The stretch is intense, borderline uncomfortable, but then he’s fully seated, sheath to hilt, and the discomfort transforms into bone-deep satisfaction.

We can’t abstain from sex this long. What stretches snaps back, making the girth of him like losing my virginity all over again. A momentary break and it feels like the first time. But maybe that’s not so bad. What I wouldn’t do for a thousand more first times with Forrest.

“You okay? You’re shaking,” he says, his voice tender despite the evident strain of holding himself still.

“Yes,” I manage, the word more breath than sound. “You can move.”

He complies, drawing back and then pressing forward in a measured thrust that sends sparks of pleasure cascading through me. His pace is controlled at first, each movement deliberate, but soon builds in intensity. His hands grip my hips with bruising pressure, guiding my body to meet his thrusts.

The truck rocks gently beneath us, the blankets bunching under my knees.

Above, the vast Wyoming sky stretches endlessly, stars bearing silent witness to our union.

The distant soundtrack of the forgotten movie mingles with our sounds—his grunts of effort, my breathless moans, the rhythmic creak of the truck’s suspension.

“Touch yourself. Rub your perfect little clit,” Forrest commands, his voice rough with exertion. “I need to feel you come on my cock.”

I balance on one arm, slipping my free hand between my thighs to find the bundle of nerves already swollen and sensitive. The dual stimulation is overwhelming, pushing me rapidly toward another peak. Forrest’s thrusts grow more erratic, his breathing harsh in the night air.

I’m nearly at the cusp when he slows. Before I can ask why, he spreads my ass cheeks apart, surely surveying all of me. I’m glad I’m turned around, so my self-consciousness is somewhat kept at bay.

He silently spits, only evident because a glob of lubrication hits my asshole before dripping down to my sex. “Curious?” he asks dangerously.

“A little,” I admit, but I can barely handle him where I’m meant to take him. A tighter hole seems unreasonable. “I’m scared though.”

“Just my finger,” he coos, circling his new target. “Tell me if you don’t like it.”

His finger circles gently, applying just enough pressure to tease but not enter. “Relax for me,” he whispers, his voice a velvet caress against my heightened senses. “Trust me.”

I take a deep breath, trying to will my body to soften. His other hand strokes my lower back in soothing circles, his cock still buried deep inside me but motionless now, allowing me to adjust to this new sensation.

“That’s it,” he encourages as I gradually relax. The tip of his finger slips just past the tight ring of muscle, and a strange new pleasure ripples through me. “Good girl. You’re doing great, baby. I wish you could see yourself. So fucking hot.”

The dual sensation—his thick length filling me completely while his finger explores this forbidden territory—is staggering. A moan escapes me, primal and unrestrained, carried away by the Wyoming wind.

“You like that?” he asks, though the answer must be obvious from the way my body shudders around him.

“Yes,” I gasp. “Don’t stop.”

He begins to move again, short, rhythmic thrusts that build in intensity as his finger works in tandem with his cock.

The pressure is divine, hitting places inside me I didn’t know could feel pleasure.

Each movement sends sparks dancing behind my closed eyelids, building a tension so sweet it’s almost excessive.

The night air cools the sweat beading along my spine, creating a delicious contrast to the heat of Forrest’s body against mine. The sounds of our coupling—slick flesh meeting flesh, ragged breathing, half-formed words of encouragement and need—seem amplified in the endlessness surrounding us.

“Fuck, Sora,” Forrest growls out, his free hand tightening on my hip. “You’re squeezing me so tight. So perfect.”

His words push me closer to the edge. The pressure of his finger increases slightly, pumping deeper, harder. The truck rocks beneath us, the springs creaking in protest, but neither of us cares. In this moment, we’re reduced to our most primal selves—seeking, claiming, giving, taking.

My arms begin to tremble with the effort of supporting myself, but before they can give out, Forrest withdraws his finger and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me upright so my back presses against his chest. This new angle drives him impossibly deeper, tearing a cry from my throat that echoes across the landscape.

“I’ve got you. Come hard for me. Fucking lose it, baby. I’ll hold you.”

His free hand slides down my belly to where we’re joined, fingers finding my swollen clit with unerring accuracy.

It’s too much—I shatter around him, surges of ecstasy crashing through me with such force that tears spring to my eyes.

My inner muscles clench around his length, drawing a guttural groan from deep in his chest.

“That’s it,” he praises, working me through the aftershocks. “I can feel it, baby. That’s what drives me over the edge.”

My climax triggers his own building release. His movements become less calculated, more desperate. His teeth graze my shoulder, not quite biting down but threatening to mark me. Possessing me.

“Where?” His voice is strained with the effort of holding back. “Not inside tonight.”

He’s right. We’re a ways away from a bathroom to get properly cleaned up.

“Wherever you want,” I permit without hesitation.

He pushes me back down on all fours, and after a few more demanding thrusts, he places the tip of his sex against my tender ass, coating me with his warmth.

The sensation triggers a reaction in me.

Maybe it’s because something that once felt forbidden is now so unapologetically explored.

The idea of Forrest knowing every single part of my body…

I come again, with every shred of energy I have left.

I crash from my knees to my stomach, flattening myself against the mattress as my final orgasm fades into the night.

Forrest collapses to my side, rolling me over so he can hold me in his arms, shielding me from the cold.

For a time, we remain locked together, our breaths gradually slowing. Then, with infinite tenderness, he brushes damp hair from my forehead, his touch patient, reverent.

“How was that?” he asks, his voice rough around the edges. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“I’m perfect,” I assure him, pressing a kiss to his palm. “That was…”

“Yeah,” he agrees, understanding my inability to find adequate words. “It was.”

A comfortable silence moves in as our bodies cool down. He peels away from me with a groan. “Stay here.”