Page 97 of The Mountain Echoes

She doesn’t answer with words; instead, she cups me.

I’m not a teenager by a long shot, and yet, I’m at risk of coming in my jeans.

She unzips me and caresses me through my boxers. I help her, bring me out, and when skin touches skin, I groan.

The stone mesa we’re sitting on is not designed for making love, but we’re making the best of it.

I open her jeans and, looking into her eyes, feel her moist, damp…ready.

“You’re so wet,” I murmur as I circle her clit.

Without warning, I push two fingers inside her, making her cry out. I place one hand on the small of her back to hold her still as I finger fuck her.

Her small hands are pumping me, but she’s losing focus. I can feel her cunt squeeze my fingers.

“You gonna come for me, Aria?”

“Yes…please.”

I add another finger. Her pussy stretches around me, slick, hungry, greedy.

Her hand is yanking, pulling, stroking my cock.

She’s not practiced. There’s an innocence about how she touches me—an inexperience, but there’s also need and passion and desire.

I brush against the swollen nub of her clitoris. She begins to whimper.

“Tell me what you want, darlin’.” I’m losing the plot.

She may not be practiced at giving a hand job, but her exuberance, her wetness, the sounds she makes are all pushing me to the edge.

I can’t remember the last time a woman got me this worked up this quickly, this easily.

“Make me come,” she pleads.

I move my fingers in and out of her. First soft, then rough, and then hard. Her body begins to shake, and her hand on me stills, which is a good thing ‘cause I’m about to come.

I slow down.

“Look at me,” I mutter as I feel her getting closer. “I want to see you when you go over.”

I rub and tease and torture.

I don’t know why I once thought she was cold because right now I can see everything she’s feeling in her expressive eyes. She’s surprised at how aroused she is.

Welcome to the club, darlin’!

She’s excited.

She’s aroused.

She’s past giving a damn about logic, and the need to orgasm is riding her.

She’s fire.

When she explodes, her insides quivering, I bring her close, murmuring softly. I give in to my desire to comfort and protect her.

I kiss her mouth.