My head swims in confusion and lust.
My hands come up to grasp his wrists to hold him to me, afraid he might pull away.
And he does, but only slightly.
Only enough to look at me with simmering anger.
At me?
“If I ever hear you call yourself ‘pathetically dull’ again, I’m going to tan your hide,” he says and then he kisses me again.
And holy hell… Woolf Jennings is sitting in the back of my truck with me.
Kissing me.
With such force that in this moment, I would do whatever he asked of me.
I’d give him my soul.
Most definitely my body.
Woolf kisses me with all the surety of a man who knows what he wants. He nips at my lower lip, swipes hard at my tongue, and growls into my mouth. His kiss alone moves me so greatly, that I can’t help the deep moan I give as my hands snake around his neck.
His own hands drop to my waist and with an effortless move, he hauls me across the tailgate right onto his lap. No, correction… after maneuvering my legs, he makes me straddle his lap. This is made easy by fact that first, I have no hesitation in accepting this new position, and second, that I wore a flower-patterned dress and my cowboy boots to this shindig.
The boots clunk down on the truck bed and my skirt rises to mid-thigh, but I don’t care. I only care that Woolf wants to not only kiss me, but kiss me while I’m straddling him.
And then, oh my fucking God… his hands go to my thighs and he pushes me down onto his lap, grinding me onto what is an erection so large I can’t even fathom the possibility of it. My breath comes skittering out of my mouth, and I have no control over my body. My hips undulate, causing the most amazing friction between us.
The fireworks continue to go off with loud booms, followed by hisses and sizzles that periodically light up Woolf’s face. Sadly, I realize that once the fireworks end, so to shall this kiss.
I hope it’s a really long show.
Woolf’s hands slide up my thighs, pushing my skirt right along with it. The night air is getting chilly, and I can feel goose bumps breaking out in the wake of his touch. I continue to rub myself on Woolf while his kiss seems to take on an urgent quality. His breathing is harsh, and I can feel tension vibrating off him in waves.
And then… I almost combust just as loud and bright as the fireworks above us as Woolf fingers the edge of my panties just a brief moment before slipping under. I break the kiss because my head falls backward, seemingly unable to support itself.
“Oh, God,” I moan as his finger brushes against me, causing a shudder to rip through my entire body. “Someone might see us.”
His response?
He pushes a finger inside of me, and my head snaps up so I can look at him. His eyes burn into me while he pumps his finger in and out. I know what he’s thinking… he’s thinking about the last time he did this to me. I can see recrimination in his eyes that here we are… once again.
If I were a smarter woman, I’d scramble off his lap and run for the hills. While this feels amazing and oh so right, I know I’m probably on a one-way street to abandonment when he’s finished with me.
But I think I might rather be selfish instead, so I give a roll of my hips against his hand and a harsh breath hisses out of Woolf.
“Fuck yeah,” he murmurs as one finger becomes two inside of me. I put my hands on his shoulders and use leverage to push myself up and down, counter to his own thrusting.
I’m stunned to my core when Woolf takes the edge of my dress with his other hand and bunches it up, pulling it to the side. He looks down at what is now an unfettered view of his fingers in my panties… inside of me.
“Watch, Callie,” he commands in a hoarse voice. “Look at you riding my fingers.”
I don’t want to look. I’m afraid it might be too much. I’d rather look at the top of Woolf’s head, or maybe even sift my fingers through his hair. I rock my hips against him, moving faster and faster. My pulse is hammering madly.
But then I decide to look because I just can’t help myself. I don’t want to miss a single thing.
Letting my gaze slide down, I see Woolf’s fingers disappearing and reappearing with shiny slickness, I see the thick ridge of his erection pushing against denim just below, and I watch in utter fascination as he skims his thumb right over my clit and presses down on me hard.
I scream as my orgasm tears through me, but it’s cut off quickly as Woolf releases my dress and grabs me by the back of my head, pulling my face to his. His mouth covers mine, and he sucks down every bit of vocal gratification that comes rushing out of me. My hips buck in a frenzy against his hand, trying to draw out every single bit of pleasure that I can, even as I vaguely realize the fireworks finale is going on right now with resounding booms and the sky lights up like it never has before.
I finally still my movements, feeling utter exhaustion start to overcome me. Woolf pulls his mouth from me as he removes his hand from my panties. He smoothes my dress down but makes no move to push me off. Instead, he takes one finger and just skims it down my throat. It’s wet, and my skin tingles from the touch.
Woolf raises his eyes to mine, and he quietly reiterates to me the point of his lesson. “Don’t ever call yourself ‘pathetically dull’ again because that was single-handedly the sexiest, most exciting thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
I swallow hard and because I know he expects me to obey his words, I give him a nod of acceptance.
“That’s my girl,” he says.
Then he kisses my forehead and lifts me off his lap. When I’m once again seated on my tailgate, Woolf hops off and disappears into the darkness.
Chapter 7
Woolf
It’s Monday morning, and I’m late getting into the office. Callie’s car is already parked out front of the Double J office, but I expected it would be. She’s never less than punctual.
Unlike me this morning.
That’s called procrastination on my part, but I can’t put it off any longer. I have to get the confrontation with Callie out of the way so I can get back on track with my life. My gut churns, wondering what will be in her eyes when I walk in that door.
Will there be anger over what I did to her? Rejection I didn’t stay? Or even worse, hope in her eyes there will be something more?
Fuck… what in the hell had I been thinking? Finger fucking sweet Callie Hayes out in the open where anyone could have seen. Just the thought of it makes my dick twitch, and I mentally sneer at it to stay the fuck down and away from her.
And I would have left her alone too had it not been for Bridger and his fucking taunts. I made the mistake of admitting to my best friend in the world who I now could cheerfully kill, that I invited Callie to the branding party to prevent her from going out with Colton. Asshole thought that was hilarious and needled me all day about it.
When he sat down at the picnic table with me that evening as dusk was settling, he did what Bridger is best at doing.
He incited lust.
Pure, white-hot lust within me for Callie.
Just a few simple words.
Filthy really.
“You know what?” he taunted me with a deep, silky voice as we both watched Callie fiddling around at the serving table. “I know you think that girl is too sweet for the likes of you, but I’m telling you, Woolf… look at her spine. It’s all in the backbone… the way she holds herself. That girl is built for some raw and dirty fucking. She wants it, too. No wait… it’s more than that. She needs it. Yeah, that girl needs it, Woolf.”
Those words right there started my brain obsessing about Callie. Bridger was definitely trying to get a rise out of me, but I couldn’t dismiss what he was saying. Bridger is a man who can take one look at a man or a woman and tell you what makes them tick sexually. He knows how to draw out a person’s desires. He knows how to break and rebuild. I don’t doubt for a second if he says Callie needs something, she really needs it.