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Authors: Jessica Lee
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Shayla’s walls
clamped down on his cock, and there was no denying the second orgasm boiling
inside his balls.
A hot wave of cum burst from his cock. Creed groaned through
the pulses, his shaft feeling more like a volcano that had blown its
top—overheated, fried around the edges, and spent. But relishing the expulsion
of the load it had held in its belly for ages.
Shayla’s trembles slowed. Creed stroked the curve of her
back as she rode out the last few twitches of her pleasure. Her head lolled
forward and their gazes locked. A satiated smile curved her mouth.
“Welcome to the twenty-first century, Creed Donovan.”
Unbridled laughter bubbled up from his chest and Creed fell
back onto the mattress, arms spread wide in exhausted surrender.
* * * * *
“Hey, Creed!” Shayla called out. “I think I have
everything.” She closed the picnic basket and hoisted it from the counter with
both hands. “You ready to go?” Creed appeared from the bedroom wearing a
freshly washed black t-shirt and matching jeans. He tucked the rolled blanket
he’d gathered for them under his arm, giving her his well-practiced look of annoyance.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into doing this.”
“You know you’re going to love it. You just won’t admit it.”
Shayla planted a kiss on his cheek and headed for the door.
“I never picnic,” he added, the sound of his footsteps
falling in behind her. Shayla couldn’t help but grin. She shuffled the weight
of the basket to one hand, opened the door, and turned to face him.
“First time for everything, isn’t there, Mr. Donovan?”
Before she could move, Creed had her in his grip, his large
hand planted firmly around her neck. His lips a mere breath away from hers. “Now that I can’t deny.” He claimed her mouth, her mind, as easily as he’d
already claimed her heart. Deep, fully, and unrelenting.
Damn.
The last five days had been the best in her life. And she
never wanted them to end. Too bad. She didn’t have a choice other than to let
him go.
You’re such a fool, Shayla Murphy.
Slowly, as if breaking the connection were an unbearable
act, Creed lifted his head. “Let’s go,” he rasped. “Before I change my mind and
we never get to the lunch in that basket.”
Shayla grasped her lower lip between her teeth, the feel of
his mouth still a tingling presence.
“Good idea,” she managed to reply and pivoted on her heels.
“There’s an area alongside the river that is really nice this time of year.”
She glanced over her shoulder, confirming he was close by.
“Sounds good,” he finally said.
After a short ten-minute walk, they made their way down the
slope and to her favorite spot. Near the bank, a beautiful large oak tree, with
its huge outreaching arms, provided some shade over a carpet of grass. On the
other side of the river, a weeping willow had found a perfect home, growing
tall and wide, its sweeping, curved branches dipping into the surface of the
water. Shayla inhaled deep, enjoying the clean mountain air and the faint scent
of the blooming rhododendrons growing nearby.
She cocked her head, drinking in the image of the man at her
side. His short ebony hair shone in the sun, his arms bulged under the snug fit
of his shirt. And something else. Something more than his physical
characteristics reached inside and squeezed her heart. For the first time since
he’d arrived, Creed looked at peace. Happy even. Absently, she placed a palm to
her chest, massaging the growing ache beneath the breastbone.
If only she could bottle the moment, cork it, and keep it
forever.
Before long, they munched on ham sandwiches, grapes and
cheese, the crash of water breaking over the rocks the only sound. A
comfortable type of quiet had developed between them. The kind of gentle, warm
silence a person shares sitting with a friend they’ve known for years. No words
needed.
“I like it here.”
Shayla swung her head in Creed’s direction at the sound of
his
clamped down on his cock, and there was no denying the second orgasm boiling
inside his balls.
A hot wave of cum burst from his cock. Creed groaned through
the pulses, his shaft feeling more like a volcano that had blown its
top—overheated, fried around the edges, and spent. But relishing the expulsion
of the load it had held in its belly for ages.
Shayla’s trembles slowed. Creed stroked the curve of her
back as she rode out the last few twitches of her pleasure. Her head lolled
forward and their gazes locked. A satiated smile curved her mouth.
“Welcome to the twenty-first century, Creed Donovan.”
Unbridled laughter bubbled up from his chest and Creed fell
back onto the mattress, arms spread wide in exhausted surrender.
* * * * *
“Hey, Creed!” Shayla called out. “I think I have
everything.” She closed the picnic basket and hoisted it from the counter with
both hands. “You ready to go?” Creed appeared from the bedroom wearing a
freshly washed black t-shirt and matching jeans. He tucked the rolled blanket
he’d gathered for them under his arm, giving her his well-practiced look of annoyance.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into doing this.”
“You know you’re going to love it. You just won’t admit it.”
Shayla planted a kiss on his cheek and headed for the door.
“I never picnic,” he added, the sound of his footsteps
falling in behind her. Shayla couldn’t help but grin. She shuffled the weight
of the basket to one hand, opened the door, and turned to face him.
“First time for everything, isn’t there, Mr. Donovan?”
Before she could move, Creed had her in his grip, his large
hand planted firmly around her neck. His lips a mere breath away from hers. “Now that I can’t deny.” He claimed her mouth, her mind, as easily as he’d
already claimed her heart. Deep, fully, and unrelenting.
Damn.
The last five days had been the best in her life. And she
never wanted them to end. Too bad. She didn’t have a choice other than to let
him go.
You’re such a fool, Shayla Murphy.
Slowly, as if breaking the connection were an unbearable
act, Creed lifted his head. “Let’s go,” he rasped. “Before I change my mind and
we never get to the lunch in that basket.”
Shayla grasped her lower lip between her teeth, the feel of
his mouth still a tingling presence.
“Good idea,” she managed to reply and pivoted on her heels.
“There’s an area alongside the river that is really nice this time of year.”
She glanced over her shoulder, confirming he was close by.
“Sounds good,” he finally said.
After a short ten-minute walk, they made their way down the
slope and to her favorite spot. Near the bank, a beautiful large oak tree, with
its huge outreaching arms, provided some shade over a carpet of grass. On the
other side of the river, a weeping willow had found a perfect home, growing
tall and wide, its sweeping, curved branches dipping into the surface of the
water. Shayla inhaled deep, enjoying the clean mountain air and the faint scent
of the blooming rhododendrons growing nearby.
She cocked her head, drinking in the image of the man at her
side. His short ebony hair shone in the sun, his arms bulged under the snug fit
of his shirt. And something else. Something more than his physical
characteristics reached inside and squeezed her heart. For the first time since
he’d arrived, Creed looked at peace. Happy even. Absently, she placed a palm to
her chest, massaging the growing ache beneath the breastbone.
If only she could bottle the moment, cork it, and keep it
forever.
Before long, they munched on ham sandwiches, grapes and
cheese, the crash of water breaking over the rocks the only sound. A
comfortable type of quiet had developed between them. The kind of gentle, warm
silence a person shares sitting with a friend they’ve known for years. No words
needed.
“I like it here.”
Shayla swung her head in Creed’s direction at the sound of
his
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