He slid his hands into her hair and kissed her again, and again. His mouth opened on hers, his tongue traced her bottom lip and she let herself fall into it, into the warm dreamy pleasure of it, the growing ache of desire inside her. She held onto his big shoulders, rubbing over them, his back, his arms. He felt so good.

His hand found its way beneath her T-shirt and when he touched the bare skin of her abdomen, her muscles there quivered. He stayed like that for long moments, just resting his hand there while they kissed.

The man knew how to torture a girl.

Her breasts swelled in anticipation of his touch, her nipples hard points. Finally his hand moved, rubbing in little circles while he slid his mouth over her jaw, nibbled her earlobe and then dragged his tongue down the side of her neck. She shivered and her fingers dug into his back. His hand found her breast and cupped it again, but still through her bra. She wanted to sit up and rip her clothes off.

“I love how you smell,” he whispered. “And your skin is so soft.” She melted into the bed as he kissed her shoulder. Then he rose above her onto his knees, straddling her. He was so big and wide she just drank in the sight of him there as he pushed her top up, up, over her breasts. She helped him ease it off her arms and over her head, then let him reach behind her to unfasten her bra. He studied her as he tossed her clothes aside, then closed his hands around her waist gently, his big hands making her feel so small. “Wow, Kyla.”

His words inflamed her, excitement twisting inside her, and her entire body pulsed with heat. She was so glad he liked looking at her. Her nipples tightened even more exposed to the air and his eyes and her lips parted as she looked up at him. His hands slid up her sides, then cupped her breasts, and when his thumbs brushed over her nipples, her body twitched hard. She moaned.

“So pretty,” he muttered and bent his head. When his lips closed over one nipple, her eyes fell closed and her head tipped back into the pillow. Ribbons of pleasure streamed from nipple to womb and pressure built deep inside her.

She couldn’t stop the noises that came from her throat and her hands dove into his hair, holding his head at her breast as he tugged at the sensitive flesh with his mouth. Everything inside her tightened, her hips lifted against his body as he bent over her. He moved to the other nipple and suckled there, slow and sweet.

She opened her eyes and lifted her head just as he looked up at her and their eyes met, his mouth on her breast, and the visual along with the sensations whipping over her nerve endings made her pussy spasm again with longing. “Tag,” she whispered. “God, that’s good. So good.”

His eyelashes lowered and he sucked harder, just at the very tender tip of her nipple. She cried out at the exquisite pleasure of it while his hand found her other breast and rolled that nipple between his fingers. As he moved between breasts, sucking, licking, nibbling and pinching, she felt the folds of her pussy swell. She knew from the deep ache that she was wet there, her clit pulsing with need.

Outside the tent, the wind picked up, tossing the tree branches with murmurs and whispers and groans that echoed the sounds inside the tent as Tag made love to her breasts until she writhed beneath him, desperate to have him inside her.

“So sweet,” he murmured. “You have the prettiest breasts, Kyla. Perfect and round and soft. And your nipples…” He kissed one, then the other. “Love how hard they are. Just made to be sucked. Mmm.” And he did that again.

The way he talked surprised her, this big jock, superstar athlete. She’d always known he was bright and articulate, the player the media all wanted to interview because he didn’t talk in clichés and had thoughtful, intelligent opinions about his sport. But the low tone of his voice and the sexy words and compliments were unexpected. And so very, very hot. Burning, scorching, set-the-sleeping-bag-on-fire hot.

She let her hands roam everywhere she could, from his short silky hair to the soft skin at the nape of his neck, beneath the collar of his shirt to his big shoulder bones. Her fingers scrabbled in the soft cotton of his shirt to draw it up on his body so she could feel more skin, satiny smooth skin over hard muscle. Heat radiated from him, the same heat flowing through her body in waves.

He rose up then, reached for the hem of his shirt with crossed arms and pulled it up and off. She’d seen his bare chest, but now she got to touch it, sliding her palms up his ridged abs to his pecs, rubbing over the hair there and then his nipples, flat discs with hard little nubs. He groaned and came back down over her, this time to kiss her mouth again, but the feel of his chest against her bare breasts, skin-to-skin contact, sent flames licking over every nerve ending. She lifted her pelvis into him, his erection evident against her. He rubbed himself against her, so big and hard, and more flames built inside her, a deeper, needier ache that she was getting desperate to ease.

“Slow,” he murmured against her lips at the restless movement of her hips beneath him. “Remember.”

“I can’t, Tag. God.”

“Delayed gratification,” he said, sliding down her body. “Wait for it. It’ll be worth it.”

“Oh god. I hope so.”

“Believe me, sweetheart.” He kissed her throat. “It’s killing me too.” He laid a string of kisses down between her breasts and onto her tummy. Her muscles there tightened and her fingers curled into her palms on the bed beside her. He paused, his cheek on her stomach, another visual that would remain seared into her memory for always—Tag’s tanned face, dark with a scruff of beard, his lips parted and eyes closed, resting against her naked body. So intimate. So heart-stoppingly beautiful. Tag.

A wave of emotion rushed over her. She tried to suppress it, squeezed her eyes closed against the prickling in the corners, and then as he moved again, pressing kisses to her abdomen, then lower, she got swept up in sensation again, in lovely warm sensation, Tag’s mouth opening on her skin, his fingers unbuttoning and unzipping her shorts and parting them so he could kiss lower still, over the front of her panties.

She lifted her hips as he eased the shorts down over them and slid them down her legs. “Sweet,” he murmured, looking at her panties, a pair of pink and white striped cheekie shorts. “Roll over.”

She blinked at him and he made a circular motion with his finger. She huffed out a laugh and rolled onto her stomach.

“Oh Christ,” he groaned.

“It’s not like you haven’t seen it before,” she said, voice muffled by the sleeping bag. Her face heated, imagining his appraisal of her body. “In my bathing suit.”

“True. But panties are different. Don’t ask me why.” A touch on her butt cheek made her jump a little and when she realized he kissed her there, heat rolled through her again. He kissed both cheeks, rubbed his palms over them and then, shockingly, slid his hand between her legs to cup her pussy. She moaned and her hips lifted and legs parted involuntarily to give him access, to touch her where she so badly needed to be touched. She felt him drawing her panties off, down over her legs.

She breathed into the sleeping bag, again imagining his eyes on her, what he was seeing.

“So pretty, Kyla.” He stroked a finger through her folds. “Such a pretty pussy.”

“I can’t stand it anymore!” she cried, trying to roll to her back again. “God, Tag!”

“Sssh. It’s windy out, but someone could hear us.”

She made a frustrated sound as his hand on her back pushed her down. God! With one hand he held her in place.

“I know what you need,” he said, and to her surprise, he rolled off her and off the bed, leaving her bereft, her pussy aching and pulsing with need. Yeah, she knew what she needed and him leaving wasn’t it. She lifted onto one elbow and watched him bend to pick up a small case from the floor of the tent. He set it on the bed, opened it and pulled out a roll of what looked like wide black tape.