Chapter 326: Tasha’s Big Statement 2

The kiss started simply and then did not stay simple.

His hand was still on the side of her face and her hands were still on the front of his jacket and the park was still quiet around them and then her hands started moving, finding the lapels of the jacket first and then moving inward, and his hand moved from her face to her waist and pulled her closer and the kiss deepened and neither of them made any decision about stopping it.

Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt.

He found the hem of her top.

At some point they both registered what was happening, the fact of it arriving clearly in both of them at the same time, and they pulled back slightly and looked at each other in the low evening light of the park with full awareness of where they were and what they were doing.

Neither of them stopped.

She went back to his buttons.

He went back to her hem. The park was dark enough and empty enough and the specific warmth between them was strong enough that the rest of it simply stopped being relevant.

They heard the footsteps before they saw anything.

The rhythmic sound of someone jogging, coming from the direction of the main path, getting louder, and they moved without discussing it, finding the nearest cluster of trees and the darkness beneath them, pressed against each other behind the widest trunk with her hand over her own mouth and his arm around her waist.

The jogger passed.

The footsteps faded.

The park went quiet again.

Tasha lowered her hand from her mouth and looked at Liam in the dark.

"Who jogs at night," she said. The surprise in it genuine, like this was the most unexpected thing that had happened in the last several minutes, which given context it was not.

He smiled.

She kissed him.

They moved further into the trees, away from the path, into the space where the branches above them formed something close to a ceiling and the light from the park’s distant lamps reached them only in broken pieces.

Liam stopped.

"Wait," he said.

He took his jacket off and crouched and spread it across the ground, smoothing it flat, the fabric dark against the grass beneath it.

She looked at it. Then at him.

Then she lay back on it, her hair spreading around her head, looking up at him through the low light with an expression that had nothing managed about it anywhere.

He came down to her and kissed her and she kissed him back with her hands finding his face, pulling him closer, and the jacket beneath her was warm from being on him and the grass beneath the jacket was cool through it and the combination of the two registered across her back in the specific way that outdoor surfaces registered, real and present and grounding everything that was happening above it.

He kissed along her jaw and down her neck and she tilted her head back into the jacket and made a sound against her own will, her hand pressing the back of his head down.

She found his ear with her mouth and bit down lightly on the edge of it.

He made a sound into her neck that was not planned.

Her hands moved to his chest and spread flat against it, feeling the muscle beneath his shirt, pressing in, moving across it with the unhurried attention of someone who had decided to take their time about every single part of this.

His hands found the clasp of her bra through her top and she shifted slightly to help him and then the clasp was gone and the bra was loose beneath the fabric and she reached up and pressed both her hands against her own boobs through the top, feeling the difference immediately, the freed weight of them against her palms, her eyes closing briefly.

He watched her do it.

Then he put his hands over hers.

She let him take over, her hands dropping to his waist, and he pressed his palms across her boobs through the fabric, feeling the fullness of them, his thumbs finding her nipples and pressing lightly.

"Oh," she said. Quietly, into the dark air above her.

He kept going, his hands moving slowly, learning the specific responses of her body to each variation of pressure, her sounds arriving softly and honestly with each thing he found that worked.

She slid her hand into the front of his trousers.

He was already hard and her fingers wrapped around him and she felt the size of him in her hand and made a small sound that had nothing to do with anything she had decided on.

He kissed her mouth and she kissed back with her hand still where it was, moving slowly, and he kissed along her jaw and down the side of her neck and she tilted her head and her hand kept moving and both of them were making sounds into each other now, small and muffled and warm in the quiet of the park.

He bit lightly at the curve where her neck met her shoulder.

Her grip tightened.

He moved his mouth back to hers and she kissed him hard and her other hand found his ass and pressed, pulling him closer, and he pressed back into her hand and they stayed like that for a while, finding each other through fabric and hands and mouths in the dark under the trees while the city sat at its remove beyond the park and nothing about it reached them here.

Then she stopped.

He lifted his head and looked at her.

She was looking at him with the expression of someone who had made a decision.

She pressed on his chest, once, the gesture of directing rather than pushing, and he understood and came upright, sitting back on his heels above her.

She sat up.

She reached for him and worked his trousers open, her hands finding the waistband and then working through it, and she freed him and looked at him for a moment in the low light, the size of him fully present and close and warm in the cool air.

Then she wrapped one hand around the base of him and took him in her mouth.

She started slow.

Her lips sealing around him, her tongue pressing flat against the underside, her head moving in the rhythm she had chosen, unhurried and entirely deliberate. Her free hand rested on his thigh, pressing down slightly with each forward motion, her sounds arriving muffled and warm and continuous around him.

He put his hand on the back of her head.

Not directing. Just resting there, feeling the movement of her, the specific motion of each stroke traveling up through his palm.

She took more of him on the next stroke.

The sound that came from her when she went deeper was different from the previous ones, fuller and more present, and she held there for a second before pulling back to take a breath and going back down immediately without any gap between.

Her tongue moved differently on the upstroke, pressing and then pointing, finding specific places and returning to them, and each time she returned to the same place his hand in her hair tightened slightly, which she registered and used as information.

She kept going.

Her pace building gradually from the slow careful beginning toward something with more commitment behind it, her head moving with more intention now, her sounds coming continuously, warm and muffled and filling the quiet space beneath the trees.

His jaw tightened.

His hand pressed slightly.

She went deeper and held and he felt everything build toward its end with the specific certainty of something that had been earned, arriving through patience and attention rather than urgency.

He came.

His hand stayed in her hair, a low rough sound leaving him through his teeth, everything releasing in long continuous pulses while she stayed exactly where she was, taking all of it, her throat working, swallowing steadily without moving until every pulse had passed and there was nothing left.

She pulled back slowly.

She sat back and looked at him in the low park light.

He was still hard.

She looked at it. Then at him. Then back at it.

She reached out and tapped the tip twice with two fingers, lightly, the specific gesture of someone confirming information they were not fully sure how to process.

"You poured that much," she said, "and you’re still hard."

He looked at her.

She looked at him.

The park was quiet around them and the city was somewhere beyond the trees and the jacket was still spread on the ground beneath them and neither of them was thinking about any of that.

She looked at him still hard in the low light of the park and then she looked at the jacket spread on the ground and then she looked at the trees around them and the dark and the specific privacy of where they had ended up.

Then she reached for the hem of her top and pulled it over her head.

She dropped it beside the jacket.

The bra came next, already loose from earlier, sliding off her shoulders and landing somewhere in the dark beside the top.

Her boobs came free in the night air, full and pale in the low light that reached them through the branches, her nipples hard immediately from the cool of it.

She stood up.

She worked her trousers down her legs and stepped out of them, her underwear going with them in one motion, and she stood there in the dark under the trees with nothing on and the park air cool across every part of her and looked at him.

In minutes, like something out of a smut novel she was in a doggy position her ass facing him and her pussy looking inviting.

"Maybe this can help."