Snow On The Beach // R.C.

1.20*

Rafe Cameron is a lot of things but a liar is not one of them.

About half way through the movie, I felt his hand slink into mine. Then, he guided me around the crowd and behind the darkness of the screen. I swear I could hear him giggling to himself the entire time.

"Rafe," I gasp when he presses me up against a tree—the very one he pointed to earlier, promising to do very lewd and publicly indecent things to me against. Like I said, he is no liar. "Someone might see us."

No one is going to see us... Most likely. It's dark, and the stump of the tree we hide behind is thick. Still, I feel kind of nervous. For more reasons than one. For starters, where we had been seated watching the movie, I had held a perfect view of Topper and Kelce. I wanted to make sure they didn't bother Pope and JJ.

Looking around, lips turned down in a mocking frown, Rafe says, "No one's going to see us, Pauper."

"They might."

"They won't," he sing-songs, looping his fingers in my belt loops and pulling my hips into his. He wastes no time in kissing me. And I let him, sighing when he shifts his lips to the hook of my jaw.

Head resting against the tree bark, I leisurely wrap my arms around his neck, sinking into the feeling of his warm tongue licking a line up my neck. "Something tells me you wouldn't mind if we got caught," I whisper, eyes fluttering closed.

"Not one bit."

"You're a pig."

A boisterous laugh escapes my throat and shoots out into the night when he starts obnoxiously oinking against my neck and ear. I try to push him away, smiling brighter than the moon, but he presses me farther into the tree, swallowing every sound I make with his mouth. That's when I feel him pushing my thin cardigan off my shoulders, leaving me in an even thinner white tank top. Daring to open my eyes, I watch him throw it to the grass.

"Hey!" I pretend to pout. "I just got that."

"I'll buy you a new one."

I don't think he even realizes that he bought me this one.

Everything's a blur from there. He kisses my mouth, and then the corners of my mouth. He kisses my chin and my nose, and he drags his lips along my jaw, eventually licking and sucking his way down my neck. The strap of my tank top finds its way between his teeth before my shoulder does too. His hands are traveling the expanse of my body, swapping between tugging at the tresses at the nape of my neck and gripping the back of my shirt.

I'm holding him close by his hips— Until he forcibly pulls back, hands diving for the button of my shorts. Popping it, he pulls my zipper down. When I then feel his fingers skimming the delicate layer of skin just above the band of my underwear, I reach for his wrist.

"Rafe," I gasp.

His movements freeze. "Is that a 'Rafe, stop' or a 'Rafe...'" He trails off, mocking the sound of my voice, mocking the desperation behind it.

"I hate you," I say, daring to use my hold on his wrist to push his fingers below the band of my underwear.

Simply humming in response, he walks us forward, somehow managing to push me even farther against the tree than I was before, the entire length of his body swallowing mine. I jump, breathing heavy, when I feel his finger against me, gently waltzing up and down my slit, before slipping inside of me. A small moan whispers through my lips—lips that he never takes his eyes off of—when his thumb grazes my clit. My eyes close at the feeling, head tilting back and baring my throat to him, which he greedily takes between his lips, kissing and sucking.