“Where are we going?”
“On a ride.” I smile back at her.
“What?”
I stop to buy eight tickets, then pull her to the merry-go-round.
“You’re nuts.” She laughs as we walk up the three wooden stairs.
“Just a little, but definitely more so when I’m with you.” I pick her up and plop her on a purple horse with a black mane. She’s sitting sideways, holding on to the gold pole with one hand. It’s late, so not many people are out, and almost no one is riding the carousel. Suddenly, the music starts to play. The ground starts to move, and the horse starts to bob up and down with Alana smiling on top of it. Yes, this is exactly why I wanted to ride the merry-go-round, so I could bring my dirty fantasy to life and watch Alana go up and down and up and down. Riding the horse, the same way I want her to ride me. She never takes her eyes off mine, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think she’s hip to my game. I can see the burning lust reflecting in her eyes as she kisses me lightly each time the horse dips down. I want her so badly I can feel it in every swollen cell in my body. Without any forethought, I run my fingertips up the inside of her leg, loving the feel of her soft skin under my touch. With her eyes trained on mine, I slide higher and higher until my hand slips underneath her little jean miniskirt.
“Ryan,” Alana moans softly, and it’s almost a warning. But she doesn’t stop me when I scrape my thumb against her panties and over the warm juncture between her thighs. Pushing my luck, I slip my thumb beneath the silky fabric and massage her clit gently. She closes her eyes and sighs, resting her head on the pole. I move her forward a fraction of an inch on the saddle, allowing me better access to her entrance, then sink my thumb deep inside her. She groans, and the sound is so fucking hot it lights me on fire. Neither of us says a word; we just stare at each other, immersed, as I finger her slowly. Sliding out as she goes up and in when she comes down. I watch compelled as her lips part and her head falls back, all while the carousel music plays, the lights flash, and the horse teeters steadily. She is so perfect and soft and wet. And I’m pretty sure I’m going to die of sexual frustration if I don’t bury myself inside her tonight.
It’s time to go. Right now. It’s time to fucking go, right now, with “fuck” being the operative word.
The ride starts to come to an end, slowing as it makes one last revolution. I withdraw my finger from Alana and glance around discreetly to see if anyone noticed our little erotic show.
It seems we got away with our secret foreplay.
When the carousel horse finally stops, I take Alana by the waist and slowly slip her off the saddle, sliding her down into my arms. She looks sexy as hell with her tousled hair, flushed cheeks, and lusty brown eyes.
“That wasn’t very nice,” she breathes heavily.
“Trust me, you won’t be thinking that later.”When I have you screaming my name.I brush my lips against hers, battling the God almighty urge that is creeping over my body. With Alana trapped between me and the horse, I drop my head and kiss her again. Hard and unapologetic this time; the sexual tension explodes around us like mortar rounds on the front line.
When we finally break apart — the only reason being we need oxygen to survive — I’m left crazed and thirsty and starving for more.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Alana asks with labored breaths.
“Like what?”
“Like you want to devour me?”
“Because I do. I am. Tonight. All night. Until there’s nothing left of the two of us except an exhausted, hot mess. I’d do it right here, right now, if you’d let me.” I press my body harder against hers, the rapid, burning need scorching my insides.
“Ryan.” Alana grabs my T-shirt urgently in her fists. “You really need to know—”
“Know what?” I devour her again, unable to control myself.
Alana severs our kiss. “Ryan,” she repeats more sternly, gaining my full attention. “I’m a virgin.”
* * *
It feelslike I’ve just been drowned in ice water.
“What do you mean, you’re a virgin?”
“Virgin. Someone who has never had sexual intercourse,” she rattles off the definition. She does that sometimes. She’s like a pretty dictionary geek.
“I know what a virgin is, Alana.” I step back and give her some breathing room. I think I need some myself.
“Is that a problem?” she gnaws on her lip.
Before I can answer, the ride operator is chasing us off the carousel.
I grab her hand and lead her off the ride and out toward the parking lot without a word.
A virgin?