Simon circles the hood with my backpack slung over one shoulder. He reaches for my hand with the other like it belongs there. I lace my fingers through his as we walk toward his cabin.
We both know what this is. I’m just an influencer touring his hometown and he’s the sexy firefighter-paramedic who saved my life.
He’s too good to be true. Gorgeous, noble, protective to an almost ridiculous degree. Men like Simon don’t do relationships with girls like me who live out of a backpack always chasing the next adventure. This is a one-time, adrenaline-fueled celebratory hookup. Tomorrow I’ll pack my gear, film a few more videos for Gloria, and get back on the road before I do something stupid like catch feelings.
Tomorrow I’ll be gone. Back to solo hikes, solo adventures, solo everything.
Even as the thought crosses my mind, something in my chest tightens at the idea of leaving in the morning. I shove it down hard.
If all I can have is one night, then I’ll take it.
I absolutely refuse to think about how Simon’s fingers stay threaded through mine like he has no intention of letting go.
Simon
I kick the door shut behind us with my boot, the heavy thud cutting through the quiet of the cabin like a claim. The room smells like old wood, but underneath it all isher, sun-warmed skin, crushed wildflowers, and a faint trace of hospital antiseptic that makes my chest tighten with residual fear. Moonlight spills through the half-open curtains, painting silver across her freckled shoulders as I back her up against the wall.
My hand stays locked with hers for one more second before I release it to cage her in, one palm braced beside her head. The other grips her hip, fingers digging into the soft give of her flesh through those cargo shorts. Her breath hitches, warm and sweet against my neck.
“Simon—” she whispers, already reaching for her tank top like she wants to race through this.
I catch her wrist gently but firmly.
“No rushing, baby. I’ve been starving for you since the moment Gloria said your name. You’re not slipping through my fingers tonight.”
I crush my mouth to hers. She tastes like cherry lip balm and the faint metallic edge of adrenaline still lingering in her system. I kiss her deeper, tongue stroking against hers until she whimpers into my mouth, the sound shooting straight to my cock. My thigh presses between her legs, and I feel the heat of her even through our clothes. She’s already grinding against me, shy little rolls of her hips that drive me insane.
I peel her tank top up slowly, dragging the fabric over her skin. The soft cotton whispers against her as I toss it aside. Her bra is simple pink cotton, and when I cup her breasts, they fill my rough palms perfectly, warm, heavy, the nipples tightening instantly under my thumbs. She arches with a gasp, the sound so sweet it makes my balls ache.
“Fuck, Clover,” I rasp, voice gravel-rough. “Look at you.”
I drop to my knees right there on the worn rug, the fibers rough against my jeans. Her scent hits me harder up close, musky, feminine, sweet with arousal. I drag her shorts and panties down her legs in one rough tug. She tries to close her thighs, but I spread them wide with my hands, thumbs pressing into the soft inner flesh.
“Don’t hide this pretty pussy from me,” I growl against her hip, pressing an open-mouthed kiss there before moving lower.
I lick a slow, broad stripe up her center and groan at the taste, tangy, sweet, addictive. Her fingers fly into my hair, gripping tight as I bury my face between her thighs. I suck her clit into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue while sliding two thick fingers deep inside her. She’s tight, silky-hot, and soaking. The wet sounds of my mouth and fingers fill the room alongside her broken moans.
Her thighs start trembling around my ears. I curl my fingers, stroking that spot inside her until her whole body locks up. She comes with a sharp cry, hips jerking against my face, floodingmy tongue with her release. I don’t stop—lapping at her through every aftershock until she’s whimpering and tugging at my hair.
I rise, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, and lift her. Her legs wrap around my waist instantly, slick heat pressing against my stomach. I carry her the few steps to the bed and lay her down on the quilt. The mattress dips under our weight. I strip off my shirt, then shove my jeans and boxers down, my cock springing free, thick, heavy, already leaking for her.
Her blue eyes widen, pupils blown wide in the low light. I crawl over her, the heat of my body covering hers. Skin to skin now, her soft curves against my hard muscle, sweat already starting to slick between us. I notch the head of my cock at her entrance and pause.
“Look at me, baby.”
She does, lips parted, chest heaving.
“This isn’t one night,” I tell her, voice low and rough. “I’m keeping you. You’re mine now.”
I push inside her in one long, relentless thrust. She’s so tight it steals my breath, velvet heat gripping every inch as I sink deep. A guttural groan tears from my chest.
“Fuck…feel that? That’s me claiming what’s mine.”
I start moving, deep, powerful strokes that rock the old bed frame. The headboard knocks softly against the wall with every thrust. Her nails dig into my shoulders, leaving little crescents of fire on my skin. I bury my face in her neck, breathing in the scent of her hair, sunshine, pine, and something uniquely Clover.
I bite down on the junction of her neck and shoulder, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. She moans louder, her walls fluttering around me. I grip her thigh, spreading her wider, pounding into her with everything I have. Every thrust is a promise. Every slap of skin is a vow.
“Gonna fill this sweet pussy tonight,” I growl against her ear, voice hoarse. “Mark you so deep you’ll still feel me when youwake up. You try to sneak out tomorrow and I’ll drag you right back to this bed, Clover. Tie you to me if I have to.”
