“Do you have better things to do?” Tristan asked, his face as blandly polite as if he were truly asking her the asinine question.
“Valid point, sir.” Still, she frowned. Where would the ropes go? “What is the best way to distribute the weight on the porter?”
Tristan grinned and motioned to his waist. “Around the waist, around the chest, and around the forehead is what I’ve seen.”
Well, she was not putting a climbing rope around his head. This rope was far too thick, and the idea of it slipping down around his neck, choking him, was far too unappealing. She’d concentrate on binding herself to him around his waist and chest. Her face heated at the thought, as her memories of last night flashed through her attempts at focusing on her new problem.
After he finished tidying away all of the makings of their love nest, hiding the evidence that anyone was ever here, he came over and attempted to sit next to her on the rock she perched on. It was the only natural seat available, but it didn’t work well for two across.
“That’s not right,” Tristan muttered as he got up, and he swung his leg around behind Eleanor, sliding onto the rock as if he were mounting a horse, with her in front. “There we are.” His breath hit right below her ear, in that space he had discovered last night.
She shivered. “How am I to think now?”
He rubbed her arms, his touch deep and intimate. “I have no doubts in the power of your mind.”
She nodded, thinking about the type of seat she would manufacture with the climbing rope. One that could be comfortable enough for her for the miles downhill and then to wherever people might be. And then Tristan’s hand molded around her breast. Instantly, she felt ready for him again. Her nipples strained to hard points, and now that she knew what to expect, she felt the wet heat between her legs. “Tristan—”
“Hmm?” He used his thumb to tease her nipple through the fabric. “Keep on thinking. I’ve got this well in hand.”
“I can’t think when you do that,” she said, aware that her voice had dropped to a whine.
“Oh, no? That’s too bad.” His hand abandoned her breast and pulled up her dress instead. Unlike yesterday, when he took his time getting to the center of her pleasure, this time he went straight for her apex, circling around the hard bud she’d found so much affection for.
Her body arched back into his as he continued his ministrations. She could feel his hard cock pushing into her from behind. Instinctively, she scooted back into it.
“No, my exquisite genius, this is not involving me. You see, you have things to plan while I have nothing to do. And I get bored easily. This is the best way to keep us both focused.”
Eleanor had no thoughts of knots or anything but his delicious forearm that flexed down her front, pinning her to him, while he worked his fingers in her wet quim. She gripped his arm as the wave of pleasure crested through her.
“There you are, good girl,” Tristan cooed in her ear, the words sending her almost to a second brink.
All right. Eleanor needed to concentrate. Now that she had found her climax, and Tristan had said this wasn’t about him, she could focus on the trouble at hand. Indeed, he wasdismounting the rock, coming around in front of her, rubbing the sizeable bulge in the front of his trousers.
“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” Eleanor asked, very distracted by the sight of him.
“Keep going with that big brain of yours,” Tristan said. “I’m quite busy, I assure you.”
But he didn’t take care of himself, which Eleanor very much wanted to watch. He pushed her legs apart, flipped her skirts up to her waist, and knelt. “But what—”
He grinned, and bent down, put his face right at her quim and licked.
“Oh, God,” she blurted, not meaning to blaspheme. But it was the only thing she could think in that very moment. Suddenly, she could no longer sit up. She leaned back, supported by her elbows, watching his golden head move between her thighs. Then she noticed he was pleasuring himself as he did so, and it was not long until she came again, doing her best to not squeeze his head.
“Nicely done, Eleanor,” he said, wiping his mouth on the hem of her skirt. He unbuttoned his trousers, still kneeling in front of her. “Let me admire my handiwork for a moment more, please.”
He took his hard, bare cock in hand and slid up and down. She watched, memorizing his motions, wanting so badly to touch him in the ways he touched her. He stared at her wet quim, then he gripped one of her thighs, staring into her eyes as he came, and the warm, ropy seed covered her legs. Tristan sat back on his heels, head down, panting, his hand still strangling his cock.
“Are you well?” she ventured, after moments of him not moving.
When he lifted his head, his blue eyes cut right through her. “Eleanor, I cannot tell you how very ideal it is to be stuck on a mountainside with you, facing death.”
She burst out laughing. He did too, and he leaned forward, lacing his sticky fingers behind her waist, his head resting on her hip. She petted his back. “I’ve never had a better time freezing to death.”
“Quite pleasant, is it not?” Tristan’s voice was muffled by her skirts.
Suddenly, staring at his back, she knew how she would create the rope structure that would take them both back down to safety. “I know how to do it now.”
“I’d say so,” Tristan said, rising up.
