“Yeah?” He gives a small, experimental rock of his hips, and the head of his cock drags over something inside me that sends a blind, electric burst through my system. “You like being full of me?”
“Yes,” I cry out. “God, yes.”
My hands move from his back to the hard globes of his ass, pulling him closer, my fingers digging into the flesh. He answers the silent plea and pulls out slowly, the drag of his massive length against my sensitive walls making me shudder.
My body clenches around him, trying to keep him inside, and the emptiness is almost as intense as the fullness. But then he pushes back in, a long, steady thrust that ends with him grinding against my ass, and my world whites out.
“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he growls. “What you’ve been doing to me since I met you.”
He starts to move, a slow, deep rhythm that has me gasping with every thrust. My body learns the language of his, the push and pull, the grind and retreat. I’ve never felt anything so good in my life. It’s better than the view from the highest peaks, betterthan the thrill of a discovery, better than any fleeting academic validation. This is what it feels like to be alive.
Ace finds a pace that’s just shy of punishing, each thrust hitting that spot deep inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyes. I’m lost in it. Lost in the feel of him on top of me, the sound of his ragged breathing in my ear, the musky scent of him, the friction of our bodies moving together.
“Such a fast learner,” he murmurs. “I knew you would be. That smart little brain of yours.”
And it’s true. I am learning. My body is learning what it likes. My hips lift to meet his, my legs wrapping around his waist, my heels digging into the small of his back, changing the angle and pulling him even deeper. I want it all. All nine inches. Everything he has to give.
“Please,” I gasp, not even sure what I’m begging for. “Ace, please…”
“I know, Simon. I know.” He pushes into me, harder this time, and the change in pace steals the air from my lungs. “I got you.”
He’s watching me. His eyes stay locked on my face, reading every expression, every gasp, every little shudder. He watches the way my eyes roll when he hits that perfect spot, the way I bite my lower lip to swallow a moan.
“Don’t do that.” His thumb brushes my mouth, pulling my lip free. “I want to hear you. Every sound.” His hips snap forward, and I cry out, a sharp, helpless noise. “That’s it. Let me hear you.”
I stop holding back and give him everything. The moans, the whimpers, the desperate, pleading cries I didn’t know I was capable of making. And the more I give him, the harder he fucks me, until all I can do is hold on, my fingers scrabbling for purchase on the slick skin of his back.
My shyness, my hesitation, is gone. All my anxieties about being a noodle, about being inexperienced, are being fucked right out of me. The only thing that matters now is the thick cock impaling me, the heavy body pinning me, the deep, commanding voice in my ear telling me how good I am for him. How good I feel around him.
But right when I’m balanced on the knife’s edge of release, Ace slows down. He stills inside me, and the loss of that frantic rhythm makes me whimper with frustration.
“What? Why’d you stop?” I’m writhing beneath him, trying to get the friction back.
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” My brain is a muddled mess of lust. All I can hear is the frantic thud of my own heart. I grab his hips, trying to pull him deeper. “Don’t stop, Ace.”
“Listen.”
I fall silent, straining to hear over the ringing in my ears. The wind. The crackle of the fire. The distant, howling storm.
Then I hear it. A low, guttural rumble. It’s not the wind. It’s too deep for that. Too resonant. It’s a sound that vibrates through the stone floor of the cave, through the sleeping bag, through my very bones. A deep, resonant call that raises the hair on my arms.
A yeti call.
9
“We should check,” Ace says, but he hasn’t pulled out. His cock is still buried deep inside me. A hard, hot anchor keeping me grounded.
“Check?” I squeak. “Right now?”
“This could be it, Simon. Your chance to finally see it.”
My chance to see a yeti. The thing I came here for. The academic in me, the researcher who’s spent years dreaming of this moment, is screaming at me to get up. To grab the camera. To document.
But the rest of me—the part that’s naked and flushed and filled to the brim with Ace’s dick—wants to stay right here, pinned beneath this beautiful, maddening man. The thought of stopping now, of losing this incredible, full-body pleasure, is unbearable.
“It’s probably nothing,” I say, the lie tasting sour. “The wind playing tricks on us.”
