“Don’t worry. You’ll get what you want.”

I reached across my hips to hook her knee, and with a solid tug, I flipped her hips, corkscrewing her body. God, she was beautiful. The shine of her hair, spread out like a siren. The curve of her breast, the line of her waist, the twist of her body, the swell of her ass.

“Roll over,” I commanded, grabbing her hips.

She did, her breath noisy. I leaned over her, my eyes trailing up her back, hand brushing her hair from her face, stroking her cheek, thumbing her neck before clamping it with my fist. My free hand skated the length of her body, gripped the bend of her waist, pulled her into my hips, cock nestling in the valley of her ass with nothing but the jersey of my shorts separating us. Those hips rolled, stroking me.

My lips on her jaw, breath stirring her hair, whispering against her shoulder blade. I rose, let her neck go, leaned back. Filled my hands with her ass, nudged her thighs farther apart, and was met with the gentle arch of her back, an offering. A request.

I shifted, eyes locked on the split of her legs. Arms threading under her thighs. Lips tingling with anticipation. Mouth meeting her heat. Tongue tasting the salt of her body. My single-minded focus, aware only on the fringes of the tremble of her thighs, the gasp of my name. I stayed right where I was, taking my time. I knew every peak and valley of her body, knew how to bring her to the edge, knew how to slow her down without losing her.

It wasn’t until she shifted that I released her and not by choice, but loss of contact. She sat and twisted, reaching for me as I reached for her, the synchronicity of body and mind instinctual. I knew what she wanted, where I would meet her lips, how I would lay her down again before it happened. Her lips crushed to mine, my body crushed to hers, pressing her into the blanket, the dip of the hay from her body cradling her. Her hands, frantic and frenzied, scrambled for my pants.

I broke the kiss, looking down into her face, smoothing her hair, soothing her breath. But her hips were wild beneath me. I pinned them with mine. Nipped her lips. Only when she stilled did I back away to stand.

She lay stretched out on the flannel, her skin bright against the dark. She was shades of red—the shine of her hair, the flush of her cheeks, the pink of her lips, of her nipples, of the neat thatch of hair in the V of her body. I couldn’t look away, and she couldn’t seem to either, not as I reached behind me to grab a handful of T-shirt and pull it over my head. Not as I retrieved the condom from my pocket and dropped my shorts. Not as I rolled it on, pumping my cock as I approached.