I climbed off his lap. He stood and pulled me to my feet by the hand. We packed the wrappers and bottles back into the cooler without talking about it—the kind of thing two people who knew the outdoors did without thinking. He slung it over his shoulder and didn’t let go of my hand.
He led me off the granite outcropping and back into the trees.
Not back the way we’d come. He turned uphill. He took us up a faint use-trail that wasn’t a trail, just a softer place in the rhododendron where deer had moved, and we climbed for maybe ten minutes, and the sound of moving water got louder and louder until we came out onto a small grass flat above a bend in the upper creek.
The creek ran fast and shallow over stone below us. The flat was maybe twenty feet across, soft grass, ringed by hemlock. Sun coming through in patches. Not another sound but the water.
He set the cooler down at the edge of the grass.
He turned to me.
I stepped into the clearing.
4
SPENCER
She stepped into the clearing, pulled the flannel off her waist, and dropped it in the grass without looking where it landed.
The cooler sat at the edge of the grass where I’d left it. The creek kept up its noise below us, loud enough to fill the silence without crowding it. Private. I’d found this spot when I was seventeen, fishing the upper creek alone, and I’d never brought anyone here.
She turned around and looked at me.
She’d told me on the granite. She’d broken the kiss to say it, which meant it had been sitting in her chest the whole time we were kissing.
I’ve never done this.
I’d meant what I said. It changed everything. It changed how I touched her and how fast I moved and how much attention I paid. It didn’t change what I wanted. It didn’t change that she was the only woman I’d walked off the line for in twelve years. It didn’t change that she wasn’t leaving this valley on Saturday.
It just meant I was going to be careful.
I was a builder. I knew what careful meant. It meant you measure before you cut. It meant you don’t rush the thing that matters.
She was standing in the middle of the clearing with the sun on her shoulders, watching me. “Come here,” she said.
I went to her.
Her eyes had that hungry look that made my cock throb. I closed the distance fast, grabbing her hips and yanking her against me.
My mouth claimed hers, hard and demanding, while I stripped her shirt and bra off, then shoved her shorts and panties down her legs. Once she was naked, I dropped to my knees in the grass and threw one of her legs over my shoulder.
“Been dying to eat this pussy,” I growled against her thigh.
I dragged my tongue up her slick folds in one long, rough stroke and groaned at how fucking wet she already was. She tasted sweet and filthy, and I buried my face between her legs, licking and sucking like a man possessed. I wrapped my lips around her swollen clit and sucked hard.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” I said, voice muffled against her. “This greedy little pussy is dripping down my chin.”
With a cry, she tightened her grip on my shoulder. Her hips bucked against my face and her moans grew louder, desperate. I could feel her thighs shaking around my head as she got closer.
She came hard, crying out and grinding against my mouth as her pussy pulsed and flooded my tongue. I kept licking her through it, dragging out every spasm until she was panting and trembling.
I stood up, shoved my pants down, and freed my aching cock. Before I could lay her down, she dropped to her knees and grabbed me with both hands. The second her hot mouth wrapped around my cock, I hissed through my teeth.
“Shit, Joy…” I groaned, watching her lips stretch around my thickness as she bobbed her head, sucking me deep and sloppy.
She took me surprisingly far, her tongue swirling, her hand stroking what she couldn’t swallow. The wet heat of her mouth felt incredible, but I wasn’t about to finish like that.
I gripped her hair and pulled her off my cock with a wet pop. “Enough,” I said roughly. “Get on your back.”
