I cup her pussy. When I rub my thumb over her slit, I find it sopping wet. Ready. “You want to get fucked by Spartacus?”
Fates, what’s wrong with me? Now I’m calling my dick by her pet name, too. Out loud.
Ridiculous.
And kinda hot.
“Yes,” she warbles.
I rise and switch places with her so I can drag my tongue from her entrance to her clit and back down again. She tastes like magic.
Moonlight and fairy dust. Flower petals and gemstones.
And that makes no fucking sense, so clearly I’m out of my mind.
I’m gonna blame the upcoming full moon for all this crazy. The full moon and this wild, wonderful woman beneath me.
I yank my jeans off. “You want him now?”
“Now.” She claws my shirtsleeves and yanks me down over her, her lips parted.
Oh fates.
The world spins when we kiss. The earth shakes.
Oh wait, that might be the RV.
Or if it’s not, it’s definitely going to be soon.
I spear her with my erection, watching her expressive face contort with passion. Her eyes roll back in her head, mouth drops open. The moan she makes should be on autoplay for every porn video ever made.
“That’s it, love,” I croon, even though I’ve never been the sweet bedroom talk kinda guy. It just rolls off my tongue with ease.
I pull my hips back and shove in again, this time allowing myself to sink into my own pleasure. She feels so good. So right. She’s small and human and I could split her in two with my massive erection, yet she receives every thrust with softness, with generosity.
She’s the kind of woman who could give and give and give.
And I have no idea what makes me draw that conclusion, but I know it to be true.
“You feel so good, sunshine. So good.”
“Conquer, Spartacus.”
A laugh explodes from my chest. I brace myself on my fists beside her head and plow deep with hard rhythmic thrusts that definitely rock the Airstream.
She makes these crazy keening sounds. Desperate and needy and somehow appreciative.
I fuck her until she loses her mind and babbles nonsense. I fuck her until I lose my mind. And then I pinch both her nipples at once and demand, “Come.”
She does. Her pussy clamps down on my dick and then spasms as she climaxes.
I wait until she’s done and push her to her side and shove her thigh up for a different angle. Perfection.
I ride her this way until I come, fireworks going off behind my eyes, the room somersaulting around and around.
When my vision clears, I fall down and wrap an arm around her waist. Spoon her. “I didn’t know how badly I needed this,” I confess.
Fates, what’s wrong with me? I never talk about feelings and now I’m spilling everything? It’s like I’ve been given truth serum or something. “I didn’t know how good it would feel,” I go on.
“Sexual healing, baby,” Sunny says with a satisfied air.
I stiffen, images of her doing this with countless others running through my head. She’s a free-loving, free-spirited soul born a little too late to join the hippie movement of the sixties.
“Easy, big guy.” She rolls over. “Don’t get jealous.”
I don’t know how she reads my mind like that. Witchy woman.
“How many?” I choke.
She places her good hand flat on my chest and swings a leg over my lap, straddling me. “Listen to me, Titus. You don’t get to ask that.”
“You’re right,” I say quickly. I’m way out of line. I don’t know why I feel so damn possessive of this woman.
This woman who won’t be claimed.
SUNNY
TITUS THINKS I chose this lifestyle out of frivolity.
But the truth is, he’s not the only one who left a relationship with a wound that never closed.
And even though I never talk about it, it feels important to tell him.
“All I ever wanted was to settle down and have a family.”
Titus snorts, but when he sees I’m serious, he stills.
“I got married young. Just a year out of high school. To a nice young man. He was an actuary for an insurance firm. He wanted children-at least three. And he wanted to be the big man and support me to stay at home and raise the kids.”
Titus stares at me with disbelief, like I might be making a long joke.
“I wanted kids for as long as I can remember. Since I was carrying around dolls at age three, probably, so it seemed perfect.”
Titus gets tense. “What happened?” There’s a warning growl in his voice, like he’s going to go back and rip Jack’s head off or something.
“We got married in a church with our family and friends and bought a little two bedroom house in Kansas City. I cooked and cleaned and planted flowers and waited to get pregnant.”
I see comprehension dawn on Titus’ face. Comprehension mingled with horror. He strokes a large, rough palm up my thigh. It’s not sexual-more like he’s trying to soothe me.
“It took a year and a half just to get pregnant. And believe me, we were trying. I took my temperature every morning, tracked my cycle. I knew when I was ovulating. I don’t know what was wrong. The doctors couldn’t figure it out. Eventually I got pregnant.”
“And you lost it.” The sympathy in Titus’ gaze is almost too much to bear.
I blink rapidly. “Biggest disappointment of my life,” I choke.
He squeezes both my thighs, then tugs me down to cover his body where he wraps me up in his arms. “I’m sorry, angel. It must’ve been awful.”
“Yeah. My own private nightmare. After three more miscarriages, Jack couldn’t take it anymore. He asked for a divorce and kicked me out. He remarried six months later and his new wife got pregnant immediately.”
“Christ, Sunny.” Titus’ voice cracks a little.