Sweet Dreams (A Sugar Rush Novel) (27 page)

Luke peered out the front windshield as they neared their destination. A banner proclaiming
Codswallop Festival
hung between two trees, beyond which was a vast field dotted with cars, tents, and RVs. People wearing heavy-looking backpacks and carrying bags and camping gear streamed toward the entrance gates.

A man wearing an orange safety vest waved them to the right, where a sea of cars sat in another field. Luke pulled into the lot, maneuvering the Porsche over the rutted dirt to an empty space at the edge of a ditch.

“Have you ever been to a music festival before?” Polly asked.

“Back when I was younger, yeah. But it’s been awhile.”

“Have you ever been to a hippie music festival?”

“Not that I can recall.”

She smiled. “Then welcome to Codswallop.”

It was the most beatnik scene Luke had ever experienced, including those of his wilder college days. The field was awash in tents, shacks, teepees, and stages where bluegrass, jazz, and rock bands played, and the throb of music resounded for miles. Enough pot smoke hung in the air to give non-users—meaning no one—a contact high. There was henna painting, hard liquor, fortune tellers, tattoos, hula-hooping, body odor, dreadlocks, porta-johns, bikinis, drum circles, food tents, fire-eaters, and more tie-dye than was needed to outfit everyone during the Summer of Love.

Polly seemed right at home here, pausing to greet or hug someone every now and then, always introducing him as “my friend Luke.” Because his cooperation would make her happy—and because he increasingly wanted nothing but happiness for her—Luke told himself that no one here had any idea who he was and that it would be fine if he just rolled with it.

So he did. Polly insisted he buy—and wear—a rainbow Grateful Dead T-shirt. They ate burritos and drank cider in the hot sun while listening to a bluegrass band, beat the bongos in a drum circle, signed petitions to protect the environment, people-watched, danced, played hacky sack and ping-pong, socialized with a motley crew of friendly folk, and tried as many foods as they could, including blueberry lemonade and chili-flavored cotton candy.

The only activity Luke declined was hula-hooping, but only because he wanted to watch his girl without any distractions. The decision yielded amazing results, as he sat in the shade with a cold beer, listening to the beat of reggae steel drums and watching Polly’s curvy body shaking and shimmying with such gusto that he eventually had to look away or risk a hard-on. Though he suspected this crowd would probably approve.

After she’d gotten him worked up with the hula-hooping, Polly grabbed his hand and tugged him over to a grove behind a camping site. Latched between two trees in the shade was a wide cloth hammock layered with Indian-print pillows.

“As much as I love your bed,” Polly climbed into it, “hammocks have their own special qualities that you won’t find anywhere else. They’re known for great health benefits.”

She reclined and tugged him down beside her. Luke settled in, and she tucked herself against his side. Their combined weight rocked the hammock, the motion pressing their bodies closer together.

Ahh . . .

He closed his eyes as the breeze cooled his hot skin and the oranges-and-cloves scent of Polly filled his nose. As he sank into a light doze, he had the vague thought that he could quite happily lie here with her for the rest of the weekend, rocking gently as music played in the distance and the sun filtered through the trees . . .

“Wake up.” Polly’s lips pressed against his cheek. “We’ve been asleep for an hour, and we’ll miss the blues concert if we don’t head over there now.”

As Luke pulled himself reluctantly out of sleep, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a nap. And waking from one in a hammock . . . he was beginning to think this hippie lifestyle had a lot going for it.

He and Polly returned to the festival activities with renewed energy. By the time the sun began to sink on the other side of the sky, they were both sun-burned, sweaty, tired, and dirty. Campfires began to light up around the tents, though most people streamed toward the main stage where the headliners were playing. Polly’s friend Tom, along with his wife and another fellow who went by the name Wolf, lounged beside a campfire.

Luke looked to where Polly sat on the other side of the fire. Her hair was falling out of its knot, loose tendrils drifting around her face, and a warm contentment filled her brown eyes. With the firelight glowing on her skin, she looked almost otherworldly, like she really was a pagan witch who’d cast a spell on him.

She met his gaze across the flames. Her lovely mouth curved with a smile.

He didn’t return her smile, only kept staring at her. An emotion flickered inside him that he didn’t recognize. If Polly really had bewitched him, what would it take to be free of her? He didn’t know if he wanted to be.

The thought unsettled him, like a crack in his armor. Not once since he’d picked Polly up at Wild Child sixteen hours ago had he reached for his non-existent phone. Not once had he wondered if anyone in his family or at Sugar Rush was trying to contact him. Not once had he thought about market shares or net sales. And that alone was a measure of the power Polly had secured over him in only a few short weeks.

What would happen if he let this affair go on for another week? Or a month? Or two months?

“Hey.” Her soft voice filtered into his ears, and he felt the movement of her body as she sat beside him. “There’s no scowling at Codswallop.”

He pulled himself from the morass of his thoughts and turned toward her. “There’s a lot of fun, though.”

Polly smiled again. He wished he could be responsible for keeping that smile on her face forever.

“My parents used to come here every year,” she said. “Though my mom didn’t bring me along until I was a teenager. She missed a couple of years when she got sick, but last year she insisted on coming even though she was still right in the middle of chemo. So Clementine and Tom loaded up a van, and we went along with them. Stayed all three days, visiting old friends, listening to music, eating and drinking. I think my mother knew the end was getting close and she wanted to have one last really good time with her friends.”

A shadow of sorrow passed across her face as she looked at the fire. Luke settled his hand on her knee.

“Sounds like she did,” he said.

She nodded. The band on a nearby stage started playing an acoustic cover of the Stones’ “Wild Horses,” the strains of the guitar accompanied by the crackle and pop of the campfire.

Luke stood and took Polly’s hand, tugging her to her feet. He pulled her to him and slid one arm around her waist before starting to move to the music. She eased closer, her body pressing against his as she rested her cheek against his chest.

He let go of her hand and wrapped both arms around her. Something always settled inside him when she was tucked in his arms like this, her curves fitting perfectly against the planes of his body like she was made for him alone.

They danced slowly for another few minutes. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and lowered his mouth closer to her ear.

“By the way,” he murmured, “where are we sleeping?”

She grinned, turning her face toward his. “You mean you’re not going to ask me if we can go home yet?”

“Actually I’m starting to wish you’d wanted to get me alone for longer than a weekend.”

She eased away from him, twining her fingers with his before leading him toward a small blue tent that was set up a short distance away.

“Tom and Anne bring an extra one in case someone needs a place to sleep.” She unzipped the flap. “Tonight, that’s us.”

As she bent over to enter the tent, her skirt stretched across her round ass. They were about to do a hell of a lot more than
sleep.

Luke followed her inside, crouching to zip the flap closed behind him. Firelight and passing shadows flashed over the thin nylon walls, which did nothing to block out the sound of music and voices drifting over the field.

Their bags were already inside, and Polly switched on a flashlight attached to the edge of the tent. She unzipped her large bag and pulled out a tightly rolled cotton blanket.

“I figured we wouldn’t need much because it’s so warm.” She unfastened the blanket. “I brought pillows too.”

Luke sat back on his haunches since the tent was too small to even sit up comfortably and watched her work. She knelt by the air mattress, reaching over it to spread the blanket, her bent position giving him a tempting display of her cleavage. Even though he’d been sneaking looks at her breasts all day—and what a sight they were when she was hula-hooping—now he could stare at them all he wanted.

“I brought extra water too, so we don’t have to trek to the water station in the dark.” Polly pulled water bottles out of her bag. “And if you . . . oh.”

Luke had crawled forward and crouched on his hands and knees, his face only inches from hers. She looked up, her eyes widening. The scent of her—sweat, sun, smoke—fired him with a bolt of lust.

In less than a second, he grabbed her by the back of the head and pulled her toward him, his mouth crashing down on hers. Her lips parted on a soft moan, and then he was inside her, his tongue seeking hers, his lust burning hotter.

“Come on,” he whispered, moving them both to sitting positions without breaking the contact of their mouths. “Let’s fuck.”

She drew in a breath and lifted her head. Shock darkened her eyes.

“Really?” she breathed. “You want to . . . here?”

“Hell, yeah.” Luke grabbed her hand and pressed it to the front of his shorts, forcing her to feel the hard ridge of his cock. “I’ve wanted it all goddamned day.”

“But . . . I mean, there are people right outside.” Polly gestured to the tent flap even as her hand closed around his erection. “I didn’t think you’d want . . .”

“Oh, I want,” Luke growled in the instant before he brought his mouth down on hers again.

He kissed her hard and deep, tasting blueberries and cotton candy, feeling her surrender as she lowered herself to the air mattress, her arms coming up to twine around his neck. He found the edge of her tank top and yanked it down, making a noise of frustration when his fingers encountered the cotton barrier of her bra.

“Wait, I’ll take it off.” Polly pushed him away, giving a breathless little laugh as she pulled off the tank top and reached around to unfasten her bra.

And then her warm, bare breasts were in his hands, her nipples so hard and tight he couldn’t resist lowering his head to suck on one of them. Polly gasped, fisting her hand in his hair and arching toward him. Urgency pulsed through his body. He pressed his lips over the half-circles of sunburn reddening her breasts, heat still clinging to her skin.

Christ. Already his cock was throbbing, as if he’d been in a state of suspended lust all day and was now, finally, able to unleash it. He tugged Polly’s skirt off her hips, running his hands over the curves of her torso and thighs.

He pulled back only long enough to look at her, his breath scorching his lungs at the sight of her spread out in front of him wearing nothing but a pair of polka-dot panties. She was all curvy, inviting warmth, the filtered light casting shadows on her skin.

She squirmed, curling her hands around his biceps and drawing him to her.

“I think you’d better hurry,” she murmured, pushing her lower body against his. “Because I’m so wet and ready for you . . .”

Luke swore softly under his breath. He tangled his fingers into the elastic of her panties and pushed them down to find the heat of her pussy. Ah, shit, she was more than ready . . . one flick of his finger on her clit, and she’d arch up against him with a cry of pleasure.

Despite the painful constriction of his clothes, he wanted to feel her come, to watch her shuddering beneath him. He slipped his forefinger into her tight channel and circled his thumb around the slippery bud of her clit. Polly’s breath escaped on a rush, her breasts shifting as she started writhing underneath him.

“Oh my God, Luke, I feel it already . . . harder, please . . . I’m . . .
oh!
”

He covered her mouth with his the instant she came, her body convulsing and trembling as he continued stroking her to draw out the last sensations. Polly fell back, her chest heaving. She tugged at the buttons of his shorts.

“Take them off,” she urged.

Luke hitched his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside, then pulled off his shorts and boxers. His cock stuck straight out, so hard it hurt, and when Polly curled her hand around his shaft he almost came right then and there.

He inhaled hard and took hold of her wrist.

“Wait,” he ordered, his voice thick. “I’m going to fuck you.”

She released him and shimmied out of her panties. And then he wanted nothing more than to be buried deep inside her, to feel her tight little hole enclosing him, gripping him . . .

He got to his knees and clutched her hips. “Turn around.”

Polly’s breath caught. For an instant, he didn’t think she’d do it, but then she turned, getting to her hands and knees and presenting him with the fucking incredible sight of her perfect ass, her thighs parted to reveal the tempting folds of her pussy.