I looked behind him, at the chain of people snaking from the entry and through the parking lot.
“You’re a bad boy,” I whispered back.
“You should have taken Mitchell’s warning.” He gave me a peck on the lips, then turned and started walking confidently toward the entrance.
Why do I always get myself into these predicaments? I stared after his adorable butt, which was so cute. How cute was his butt, Peaches? Cuter than a basket of baby bunnies at a carrot buffet.
I followed Mr. Cute Buns in, and was not at all surprised to be waved through by friendly, yet not-that-bright staff. To save someone a reprimand, I’m not going to name the park, and to keep you all from hating Keith Raven for the wrong reasons, I have to let you know he made a generous cash donation to the donation box in lieu of paying admission.
Okay, I lied. There was no donation made.
Keith is a bad boy with a cute butt. Sue me!
We dropped the soil off just inside the gates and started walking along the tour path, passing through a tunnel of tree branches that reminded me of The Arch of Swords, that old tradition of military weddings.
As we walked, Keith held my hand and named off every flower, shrub, and tree we passed.
“Enough with the Latin,” I said after twenty minutes of what sounded like a bunch of Harry Potter spells. “What’s the deal with you and Tabitha?”
He frowned, which I interpreted as his desire to have someone badger him until he cracked. Like what a therapist might do. If that therapist had no training and was me.
“She seemed so nice,” I said, impressing myself with the soothing, therapeutic tone of my voice. “You’re a little complicated, with the extreme gardening boner you have for shrubbery, plus the nearly-nude modeling, but you seem like a real catch. Why couldn’t you two crazy kids make it work?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, which I had a hard time creatively misinterpreting, though I did try—for several silent moments of walking.
The garden was beautiful—all lush and tidy, with just the right number of chubby bumblebees flying around from blossom to blossom.
We walked by a wedding party having their photos taken. We stopped to watch as the photographer set the camera on a timer, then tossed it up in the air to take an aerial photo of the group, looking up.
As we left and continued our tour, Keith and I both said in unison, “I wonder how often he has to buy a new camera.”
We didn’t jinx each other, but laughed and laughed.
Keith pulled me with him to hide on the other side of a big tree, where he kissed me with vigor and grabbed my ass with even more vigor. We kept kissing, and he brought one hand around to the front of my knee, then up my skirt and down my panties. I gasped in shock as his fingers nudged my hot crease. People were all around us, even though we were hidden behind the tree.
He growled near my ear as he rocked his fingers back and forth, gliding across my clit.
“Mercy!” I moaned.
He whispered in my ear, “Don’t worry, you’re not going to come. Just relax. Let it build, but don’t come.”
“You are the worst,” I breathed.
“Is this good?” He swirled his fingertips in a circle.
CHAPTER 7
“Is this good?” he repeated.
I whimpered that his fingers on my cl*t were very good, and he rotated us around so my back was against the rough tree bark, my hair getting tangled in small branches as I rocked in rhythm with his hand.
He kissed me, licking my lips slowly with his tongue, then swirling it in my mouth, but just the tip, just a tease.
The first sparks started in my pu**y, and I lunged for his mouth, wanting to inhale him, tongue first, but still he held back. My muscles clenched in anticipation, and then he slowly dragged his fingers up, out of my panties.
I opened my eyes and stared at him in disbelief as he put his fingers in his mouth and sucked them, relishing in my taste and my frustration—mostly my frustration.
I whisper-scolded, “Keith Raven, you are a pu**y tease!”
He laughed and smoothed down the front of my purple wrap skirt, then pulled me forward and smoothed the back of my hair.
“You’re so fun to tease,” he replied.
“Oh, so this is all my fault? Right. Blame the victim.”
He leaned back, his arms wrapped around my lower back so our h*ps and legs were touching. After a studying look, he said, “Admit you’re having a great time today.”
Playing coy, I said, “I like my new dress.”
“So do all the men in this park. They’re all checking out your peachy curves, and the wives and girlfriends are all pissed about it.”
“You’re mistaken. The girls are all checking YOU out and wondering what the hell you’re doing with a regular girl like me.”
With a growl, he pushed me back against the rough bark of the tree again, his hands on either side of me and his torso pinning me. As he kissed my neck and earlobe, he said, “There is nothing regular about you or the way you make me feel. If there weren’t so many people around, I’d throw you down in a bed of daisies and bury my face between your sweet thighs.”
I gasped for air. “And then what?” I was so turned on, I felt like what he was describing was actually happening.
“You’d discover underwear modeling is one of my side talents, but tongue-work is my real specialty.”
“Oh?” My heart was pounding, my whole body quivering.
He licked the side of my neck roughly, then gently, flicking my earlobe, then giving it a hard suck, his breath hot and ticklish in my ear.
“Excuse me,” came a high, thin voice.
I opened my eyes to see a well-dressed elderly woman in a sunbonnet standing nearby.
Keith pulled back and wagged his finger at me. “Enough of that, miss! This is a family park.”
The woman didn’t walk away, but stayed there, staring with a big grin on her face. “You’re Keith Raven,” she said.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he said. “Would you like to take a picture with me?”
She waved her hand. “No, no, darling. I don’t want to take up any more of your time. I just wanted to say I have your calendar photo on my fridge at home.”
Keith turned and walked up to her, ready for more conversation. I watched in awe as he turned on the charm, and the lady—who must have been at least eighty, if a day—melted like a girl under his attention.
“That calendar’s out of date now,” he said. “I’ll have to send you a new picture to display for your friends.”