Page 49 of Only the Wicked

I twist her to her side, then slap her ass.

“On your knees.”

I grimace as I pull out and am careful to check the condom while holding the base.

“You don’t want to lie on your back. The ground’s not that smooth.”

“Oh. Did that hurt you?”

A couple of rocks dug into my back but…“Worth it.”

She complies, palms flat, back slightly curved, ass out, in position. She looks over her shoulder, smiling, ready.

I position myself at her entrance and thrust. She’s fucking heaven. Tight. Hot. With each surge, she rocks against me and bright specks of light dance across my vision. I cup her breasts, tweaking those aroused nipples, and she moans.

With one roaming hand, I find her clit, palming her, rubbing, thumbing to the time of my thrusts.

Our grunts and moans mix with the gurgling stream, rustling leaves and the chatter of birds, and I’m hit all over with a sense of flying, of freedom.

I’m so fucking close. I sit back on my legs, bringing her with me, so her back is to my front, and I rock into her, teeth on her neck, holding her to me, fingers digging into hips, as she arches and I lose my rhythm, spilling everything into her.

The back of her head lulls against my shoulder, and I rain kisses on her temple, the side of her face, and then when she turns her head, I give her a sloppy, awkward kiss and grin.

“That was fantastic.”

I’m still inside her, but I’m softening. And I don’t want to move. I want to hold her, just like this, indefinitely.

She caresses my jaw.

I nip at her thumb, and reluctantly help her up, grimacing as I slide out of her warmth.

“I’m glad you came clean.”

I walk to the edge of the towel, my back to her as I remove the condom and check it for tears, a habit I started before Sara.

I kneel, searching my backpack for something to dispose of the condom in. It wouldn’t be good for the environment to leave a used condom behind. Some animal might choke on it.

“I really like this spot. It’s fantastic.”

I look over my shoulder, and she’s splayed out on the towel, sunbathing.

“Yeah, it is.” An idea forms, and I spit it out without weighing consequences. “Any interest in heading to Asheville?”

“Didn’t they get hit hard by a hurricane?”

“They’re welcoming tourists back. I haven’t been in decades. I’d like to check it out. See what’s changed. Maybe for the night? Friday I have to leave for D.C.”

She rolls onto her side, and good god I thought she was gorgeous, but looking at the seductive sway of her breasts and the curving line from her abdomen over her hip and the slope of her thighs… “Come with me to D.C., too. If you want. We can leave from Asheville.”

Hope flickers in her eyes and I’m quick to add, “You live near D.C., right?”

“Maryland,” she says. “But close.”

“Why are you so tan?” I reach for my boxers and shorts.

“My grandmother is Hawaiian.”

“That explains it.” I breathe deeply, gathering my thoughts as I dress.