Free Just a Girl by Ellie Cahill Page A

“You don’t have to do that. Come sit.” I patted the spot next to me and after a moment Paul joined me.
    The soft mattress made us tilt toward each other until my bare thigh was pressed to his denim-clad one. I let the momentum carry me farther, leaning in to press a kiss lightly to his neck.
    “Now, where were we?” I murmured.
    He hummed contentedly while I stretched up to kiss the corner of his mouth, then he turned and our lips met once more.
    God, what was it about this guy? The instant he kissed me I was ready to burst into flames. I felt like I was expanding to fill the small niches of his shape, that my clothes were suddenly too tight. I was gasoline and he was a match.
    There was no shyness after the park. I moved to straddle his lap once more and gave in instantly when he grabbed the hem of my shirt and tugged it up. While my arms were up over my head and my shirt was wrapped around my wrists, he bent to kiss my cleavage.
    I shook my shirt free and grabbed eagerly for his, forcing him to lift his head as I pulled it off. At last I could see more of that tantalizing tattoo.
    It was much bigger than I expected. From the humble roots and trunk of the tree on his bicep bloomed a tree that covered half his chest.
    “Oh my God,” I breathed, leaning back to get a better view.
    “Later,” he said, wrapping his arms around me to pull me tight to his chest. We fell back on the bed, mouths fused, and he reached for the clasp on my black bra. It was only a moment’s work to undo it and another to strip my bra free from the tangle of our arms. The sweet heat and sweat of his chest against my bare breasts made me shiver with delight.
    “That’s nice,” he said softly.
    We kissed again, as if desperate for each other, and his hands roamed my body, one finding its way under my skirt to grip my ass. I rocked my hips appreciatively. Paul matched my rhythm and soon I had to break away from his lips to catch my breath.
    “Too much clothing,” I panted.
    “Uh-huh.” He rolled to the side, putting me down on the blankets. The new angle distracted us for a minute as I wrapped my leg around his thigh and he slid a hand between us to caress my breast. But it didn’t take long to remember that his jeans were blocking me from the contact I craved.
    “Clothes,” I reiterated, reaching for his belt buckle.
    His hands searched my waist for some kind of closure on the skirt, but there was none.
    “Pull,” I said.
    He obeyed, tugging the stretchy fabric over my hips, nearly taking my panties at the same time, but they caught, leaving my right ass cheek exposed.
    I giggled and redoubled my efforts with his belt and jeans. It was hard to work in the tight space we’d left between us, but at last I got the button and zipper open. We tried together to get them off, but eventually he made a frustrated sound and sat up to finish the job himself.
    For the first time I got a look at his back and once again I couldn’t help but gasp. The magnificent tree tattoo wrapped around his torso, covering half his back with twisted branches. From the ends of the branches near his shoulder, brilliant orange and red leaves blew in an invisible wind while the blackbirds I’d glimpsed above his collar took flight. Below that, closer to his waist, the branches were covered in snow and swirling gusts of flakes swirled toward his spine.
    There was more ink under his left arm, but I could hardly tear my eyes from the tree. It was stunning.
    After a moment he was free of his shoes and jeans and he turned to face me, letting me see clearly at last that the spring and summer seasons were part of the tree on his front.
    “It’s beautiful,” I said, reaching out to trace one of the budded spring branches that followed the curve of his pec. His nipple puckered when my nail skated along the edge, and that was all the viewing time I got because then he was on top of me.
    My crooked panties went even more haywire as he moved us to the middle of the bed