My hair has fallen over my face and Morgan scoops it up into a fist and holds it lightly back so he can see. I swirl my tongue around the head of his cock and glance up at him. He’s wild-eyed, teeth gritted and muscles rippling.
“We can do both things,” he repeats, chest heaving. “But not all things, Rory.”
I pull my mouth off his cock with a pop. “Just a bit more.”
He groans and his head falls back. I suck him in again, taking him as deep as I can over and over. His thighs tighten under my palms and his legs squirm. The taste of precum floods my mouth and his hand tightens in my hair.
“Rory, please, fuck stop, oh god.”
I pull off and the hand that was gripping my hair shifts to squeeze his cock head. Morgan’s knees bend, his body curling up to try to stave off the orgasm I teased. He mutters a few more curse words, and then it’s “Rory, please get on my face.”
I oblige, stripping off my clothes and crawling naked up his body to his eagerly waiting mouth. He pulls me down hard and knowing what he can take, I sink onto him.
It doesn’t take long for me to grind against him, riding his tongue until an orgasm barrels up my body from my toes to my head, escaping in a near scream while I pulse and shudder over him. I fall back to sit on his chest and catch my breath.
Morgan grabs a napkin, wiping his mouth, and then grabs his jeans, fishing a condom out of the wallet. His hands disappear behind me and I hear the rip of the packet and watch Morgan’s hooded eyes while he rolls the condom on.
Wordlessly, he touches my waist and I rise up, centering myself on him and slowly lowering. We both pause when I bottom out, the stretch and depth hitting me just right. Through half-lidded eyes, I watch Morgan’s tortured gaze stare up at the sky while he fights for control.
“God damn it,” he says, breaking and laughing at himself. “This is not going to last long. You’ll probably set me off if you come.”
“I really want you to make me come again.”
“Fuck yeah.” Morgan sucks a thumb into his mouth and presses it to my clit, shooting fireworks up my body. My hands scramble to find purchase, one landing on his bent knee behind me, the other on his chest. “God, Rory, you are so beautiful.”
I close my eyes and throw my head back, grinding myself on his cock. His thumb circles my clit over and over again. This orgasm takes me longer, and the noises Morgan makes sound like I’m killing him. The ache builds and I can feel it approaching. I lean back and open my eyes, meeting Morgan’s gaze. “I’m getting close,” I gasp, and the words themselves spur me on even more.
Morgan licks his other thumb and switches, and the renewed pressure takes me over the edge. My toes curl and my orgasm shakes through me. Morgan’s hips grind with me as he pulses inside me. We’re both panting, and when I lift my hand off his chest to brush my hair away from my face, it’s shaking.
Morgan cracks an eye open, and then stretches his arms out to me. I ease myself down onto his chest. We’re both sweaty, but it’s cooling quickly in the autumn breeze, and the sun’s almost gone. It’s going to get cold fast.
I’m too satiated to do anything about that yet. Morgan feels too good. He smells good too, and I press my nose against his skin, against the wings tattooed on his pec. I bet?—
“Did you just bite me?” he asks, voice filled with laughter.
I bite him again, this time holding it. “Wha?” I ask, my voice completely muffled. “Ew tast gud.”
“I taste good?” His chest bounces, and I let go, resting my chin on his sternum. Morgan’s got one arm wrapped around me, the other behind his head. “You can bite me anytime, my little vampire queen.”
I laugh, and this time it pushes his softening cock out of me. We reluctantly sit up and clean ourselves, Morgan putting the used condom into the empty chip bag. He lies back down but I take a moment to admire the view—of Morgan, yes, but also the valley.
It’s beautiful, and I liked hearing the lore of this place, but that’s all it is—lore. I don’t believe that there’s a song, I don’t feel anything pulling me to the valley like Morgan does.
Despite the slogan, I don’t belong here, even if I am fucking my fake fiancé.
I lie back down on the blanket and Morgan trails a hand up my already-goose-bumped skin.
“Getting cold?”
I nod.
“Cold enough that you want to go?”
I shake my head. “We still have another condom,” I point out.
He bends his head and kisses my hip. “That would help us stay warm.” He shifts and pulls his jeans up and buttons them. Then he reaches for his shirt and I frown in disappointment until he hands it to me. “Here, put this on.”
I pull the Henley on and lie back down. Morgan’s eyes run appreciatively over my half-naked body, and then his hand follows the path, coming to rest between my legs. I’m still slick and swollen, and he traces my lips up to my clit and back down the other side, making my head fall back.
