Page 2 of Sweater Weather (Sapphire Falls Orchard #1)

TWO

Tilly

“ I thought you said you weren’t from town?” I raise an eyebrow as I look around the furnished apartment. I had sort of assumed she was staying with someone—or at the local motel.

“It belongs to my family,” she says, kicking off her heels. Part of me wishes she kept them on; I wouldn’t mind seeing them over my shoulder. I kick off my Doc Martens and follow City Girl inside.

I have to admit, the no names thing is different, but it isn’t bad.

Right now, everyone in town knows I’m grieving, and it’s nice to escape that for a bit.

My friends know I have a habit of seducing the tourists, so they won’t be worried.

One of the only good things about being in a touristy town are the women who pop in from time to time.

Most of them wear Chanel perfume, carry Coach bags on their arms, and wear heels that make them taller than me.

Not that I need a butch to match me—I love all women—but that nose-in-the-air nonsense?

I can’t handle it. So far, City Girl seems okay in that department.

“Mac?” I realize I’ve been dazed for a few moments, because I missed the last thing she said. I’m not drunk or anything, just happily tipsy.

“Sorry, I missed that. What did you say?”

“I asked if you want the lights on or off,” she says with a laugh. She’s taken off her cheetah print sweater, and she’s next to the light switch.

“Oh, whatever you want.” I shrug. The streetlight pours in through the window, and when she turns the lights off, it creates a surprisingly intimate glow.

I slip my flannel off and toss it onto the chair next to the bed.

City Girl unzips her pencil skirt, letting it fall to her feet before stepping over it and placing it on the chair.

She slides off her blouse as I take off my jeans.

My eyes are on her breasts, perched perfectly in a lace bra that looks uncomfortable as hell, but God what it does to me.

Her curves are only highlighted with this lighting.

God, she’s fucking sexy as hell. She walks over to the bed, and I slide off my black T-shirt, climbing onto the bed next to her.

“Why do I get the feeling I’ll need a safe word with you?” she jokes.

“You can have one, City Girl.” I smirk.

“Just stay away from my ass, and we’re good.”

“Same here.” I nod.

She pushes me onto the bed and climbs on top of me. She hovers, like she’s afraid of me or something, and I pull her body down onto mine. Her soft skin melts into me, her lips crashing into mine. Her cool hands find a home at my waist, and I can’t keep mine still—I need to touch every inch of her.

She sucks gently on my lip, and I moan into her mouth. My hands slip around her back, unhooking her bra in record time. She stops kissing me just long enough to sit up, toss it aside, and lean back down to kiss me again.

She kicks my knees apart and slides her thick thigh between my hips. I groan.

“Fuck,” I grumble.

Her thigh presses right against my clit through my boxers, sending a pulse through me that makes my whole body shiver.

I reach for her breasts—full, soft, spilling out of my hands—and lean up to take a nipple in my mouth. I tug with my teeth, and she gasps, tossing her head back in pleasure. Her hips buck as my other hand finds her other nipple, pinching until she’s whimpering.

Her hand slips between us, and her fingertips brush against my core.

“I think you’re wearing too much, Mac,” she whispers in my ear.

I nod, breathless.

She slides off me, and I stand to strip the rest of my clothes while she peels off her wet panties and tosses them across the room.

Fuck. Her pussy is so pink, so wet she’s dripping.

I climb back onto the bed, kneeling between her legs. She scoots down toward me, and I spread her open with my hand. She’s perfectly waxed except for a neat little landing strip.

I lean in and lick her, and her hips jerk toward my face.

A groan rips out of me as I taste her—wet, sweet, perfect. She hooks her legs over my shoulders, her thighs clenching as I suck her clit.

“Oh, shit!” she cries, her thighs tightening around my head.

God, I love fucking women. Not that I know any different—but how does everyone not want to do this?

I’m ravenous, my own pussy dripping as I eat her out. Her whimpers and moans are a song I want to memorize. She toys with her breasts, rolling her nipples between her fingers. I struggle to keep my eyes open, rubbing my thighs together for a little friction.

I slide two fingers inside her, and her eyes fly open.

She sits up to watch me, one hand fisting the sheets, the other pushing my head closer to her clit.

I suck harder and pump my fingers in and out of her tight heat.

Her auburn curls cascade around her shoulders, reminding me of falling autumn leaves.

After a while, my jaw aches, but I don’t want to stop if she’s close. The problem is, she’s been hovering on the edge since I started.

As if reading my mind, she murmurs, “It’s hard to make me finish, but if you’re tired, you can stop. That felt amazing.”

I nod, climbing off my knees. I’m not twenty anymore, and my thighs are going to hate me tomorrow.

“You don’t always finish?” I ask.

“Not with a partner, usually.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“That’s not going to stop me from trying.” I wink, and she blushes.

“Would you sit on my face?” she asks.

“Me?” I blink. Usually I’m the one with women sitting on my face. I can’t even remember the last time someone asked me that. I shake my head.

“Then tell me what you like.”

“Honestly? Using your hands is the best way to go, City Girl.”

I grin at her using the nickname. She has no idea it comes from my favorite apple variety back on the orchard.

Fuck. I wasn’t supposed to think about that tonight. It’s bad enough having to say goodbye to someone who was like a mother to me. The responsibility waiting for me back home is enormous, but I know I’m ready. I’ll make Benny proud.

“Where’d you just go?” She pulls my face back toward hers.

“Sorry. It’s just been a stressful week,” I admit.

“Well, then let me help you destress.”

Her hand glides down my chest, brushing over my clit before teasing my folds.

“Oh, fuck.” I moan as her fingers slip through me gracefully.

I’m wetter than usual—just touching her earlier was enough to wreck me. She’s my kryptonite, all soft curves and endless places to explore.

She drags a finger through my folds, circling my clit with her wet hand. My hips buck toward her, but she pushes me back down, her mouth closing over my breast. She swirls her tongue around my nipple, and I moan—louder than usual.

“Come on, Mac. Don’t hold back on me.”

She looks up at me from between my breasts, hazel eyes glinting.

Before I can say anything, she slides a finger inside me and curls it upward. I curse loudly. She smirks, kissing her way down my stomach.

With one hand, she pumps her finger in and out, the other pressing firmly over my pubic bone.

The pressure is dizzying, setting my pussy on fire.

My head falls back against the pillows. She pulls out her finger only to add another, pumping both into me, slick with my arousal, as I rock my hips to get more friction.

“Fuck!” I cry out. I’m already so fucking close to coming. I reach to touch her breasts as she moves her thumb across my clit. My breath is heavy, my whimpers turning into moans as she touches me.

“Come on Mac, let me see you come.” She looks up at me again, and I force myself to make eye contact with her while I finish.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I usually like to scream the woman’s name, but that’ll do. Holy shit. I’m seeing literal stars as she licks her fingers clean. God, seeing a woman lick me off of herself? I’m definitely committing that to memory.

I lie back on the pillows and pull her toward me. “Get on my fucking face. Now ,” I tell her.

“Are you sure?” She looks worried, like she’s afraid I can’t handle her size or something—which is just crazy because she’s shaped like a literal goddess.

“I’m more than sure. Now get up here and let me devour you,” I demand.

She smiles, her shyness fading as she settles over my face, and I pull her hips down to my hips.

She’s still wet. Her clit brushes over my tongue, and her hips buck toward me.

Looking up, I see her grabbing and playing with her tits.

I try to hold eye contact with her, but it’s too much when I feel her juices slipping down my chin.

She’s so wet—her pussy is sliding effortlessly over my tongue.

I moan against her, she tastes too good.

Above me, she’s moaning and rocking her hips back and forth to a rhythm.

Her hands are pinching her nipples, and her eyes are shut as she enjoys the moment.

Maybe she can come easier than she thinks.

She probably just needs to relax a little bit.

I think she’s teetering on the edge of release, but then her eyes shoot open, and she grabs her leg.

“Crap! Leg cramp!” She falls to the side of me, off my face, and stretches out her knee.

“Are you okay?” I can feel how wet my mouth is from her, but there’s nothing to discreetly wipe it with.

“Yes, just a leg cramp. Probably from sitting so much on the train.” She winces. I’m sure wearing those heels all day don’t help either, but now isn’t the time to mention them.

“Do you need ice?”

“No, I’ll probably be fine. But I think the mood has shifted.” She frowns.

“Totally understand. Do you want me to stay?”

“No!” she yells way too quickly. I laugh it off, but damn that kind of stung. “Sorry, my family is coming here in the morning. I don’t need them seeing my one-night stand leaving.”

“Of course.” I nod. That makes me feel a little better. And it isn’t like I could stay all night anyway. I have to get up in the morning to arrange the funeral home flowers. Fuck. Well, there goes all the work I put into not thinking about it.

“I’ll…thanks for tonight.” I struggle with what to say after I’ve dressed.

“Bye, Mac.” She giggles and I let myself out, heading toward the bar.