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I pause when we get close. “Close your eyes,” I order her, slipping my hands over her eyes from behind.
She tenses for the barest second and then laughs, reaching up to hold my wrists. “What are you doing?”
“This,” I whisper hotly into her ear. I move my hands and her lashes flutter. I know the instant she sees it.
She gasps, her hands covering her mouth, but then she reaches out. One finger traces the lines in the big tree trunk.
B + A = 4EVR
We’d playfully discussed for over an hour if it should be alphabetical or if my initial should be first, not because I was the boy but because it was technically my tree. She’d won, and my initial was the first one I carved. But she’d been there with me for every scratching mark with my pocketknife. When I was done, she’d kissed the tree and then kissed me.
I remembered that kiss like it was yesterday, the taste of bark and cherry lipgloss.
She spins in my arms so that she can look me in the eye. “Is this what I think it is? Is that original?”
I nod, searching her face. It means something to her too. She licks her lips and my eyes track the movement hungrily.
“Bruce.”
I think she’s going to tell me to stop, tell me she can’t do this again. Instead, she lifts to her toes and kisses me.
It takes me by surprise. I think it takes her by surprise too, actually. But in the span of a heartbeat, we go from standing beside one another to trying to occupy the same space. I need her, need to be inside her. If not her pretty pussy, at least her mouth. Holding her jaw gently in my big hands, I nip at her lower lip, and she opens for me without hesitation. I dive in, our teeth clacking in our rush to consume each other. I claim her mouth, tracing it with my tongue, wanting to know every nook and cranny of her again.
She’s pressing into me, her whole body aligned with mine, but she’s so much smaller than me that I have to bend over and she’s still reaching for me on tiptoe. I slide my hands down her back, my thumbs brushing along the sides of her tits until I’m cupping her ass. I want to touch her everywhere at once, cover her body with mine. With the slightest squeeze, she hops up, wrapping her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck. Holy shit, that’s even better . . . her covering me, choosing me.
“Oh, fuck, Al,” I murmur as she kisses down my neck. I’ve been working all day and probably smell more like an animal than a man, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Fuck, she even seems to like it as she lets out this cute growl of hunger against my skin.
I hitch her up a bit higher, ordering her to hang on as I drop to one knee and then the other before flipping over. I lean back against our tree with her sitting astride me.
She pulls back, her blue eyes flashing and bright. Her ponytail is floppy, falling to one side, and her cheeks are flushed with desire.
“So fucking beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, and I realize I said that part out loud.
She’s thinking, I can feel the hamster spinning out in her mind, but I don’t rush her. My cock has other ideas about our timeline and throbs painfully, wanting through the few scarce layers separating us, but that’s not what this is. This is baby steps. This is getting her used to us again. This is making things right.
“Whatever you want, Al. Anything, nothing. Say the word and it’s yours.” My voice is too rough, my breath too jagged, my body too needy, but I’ll stand by my word. Anything she wants from me, I’ll give it.
She leans forward, delicately kissing up my jawline toward my ear, and I can’t help but squeeze the fullness of her ass where I’m still holding her. Her breath is hot against my ear as she whispers, “Touch me.”
I groan, loving even the faintest hint of dirty talk from her. She was never shy, but I always had a much filthier mouth, and she loved that, got off on it. I pray that hasn’t changed because I want clarity here.
“Touch you where, baby? You want me to suck and lick on your sweet tits?” A tiny whimper answers that. “You want me to rub your hot pussy, circle your clit, and fuck you with my fingers until you coat me in your cum?” She shudders, and that seems like a damn good place to start, so I don’t push her any further. This I can work with.
I pull at her tank top, and she rips it over her head, revealing her sports bra. There must be a God that still loves a dirty bastard like me because the bra zips in the front. I yank the zipper down and am greeted with the most beautiful set of tits I’ve ever seen in my life. I thought maybe I’d imagined them through rose-colored glasses over the years, but I don’t think I remembered them as gorgeous as they actually are.
