Page 101 of Blue Jean Summer

“Fuck me,” she whispered, reaching for me.

“Let me look a little longer.”

“Hayes,” Catherine begged.

I captured her hands in mine and pinned them above her head. “Men will spend their entire lives trying to paint these mountains or photograph this valley.” I smoothed my palm between her breasts and down her abdomen. “And they’ll still never capture the magnitude of what I’m holding right now. So let me look just a little longer.”

I took her in as I eased my hips over hers and notched the head of my cock in her entrance. Her breath hitched as I pushed inside ever so slowly.

“That feel good?” I choked out when I was fully sheathed.

“Yes.” Her whisper was sharp. I felt a metal scratch along my thigh as her hands sought purchase.

The ring.

It glinted in the twilight, shining brighter than the first stars that glimmered in the sky.

I never wanted her to take it off.

Realization roiled in my chest, mixing with the fear of failure that still lingered after all these months. Maybe there weren’t ghosts, but there were scars.

That epiphany might as well have been an anvil anchoring me to the spot.

“I need you to move,” Catherine said as she squeezed my thighs. “Now.”

But I couldn’t.

“Babe.” Catherine’s hands softened as concern crept into her voice. “Are you okay? Do you need a minute?”

No. I can’t waste a minute. I can’t waste a second. Not with each passing day drawing Catherine and me closer and closer to the end of us. Panic crept in, strangling the impulsive desires we had indulged over and over again.

It was reckless to love her. I could feel the invisible touch of her ghost reaching for me. It stung; a grotesque preview of what it would feel like when we reached the end of this farce.

As if Catherine read my mind, she wrapped her hands around my biceps and squeezed until the strain released from my muscles.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered.

“Come here.” I hooked her leg around my hip and slid my arm beneath her head to support my body weight and cradle her close.

I pressed a kiss to her temple as I slid out. Her staccato breath as I thrust back in was a symphony. Every caress was met with an answering cry. Every kiss was punctuated with a plea.

I reached between her legs, savoring how slick she was. It was all for me. I toyed with her clit, drawing her to the edge time and time again as those pretty cries became my vice.

I craved the way her pussy clung to my cock with each thrust. Catherine nipped at my ear as I hung my head low and kissed up and down her neck.

“You feel so fucking good, Cath,” I grunted as my control began to slip. “You gonna come for me?” I needed it harder. Faster. I needed more of her, more than I should ever ask for. I wasn’t haunted by her. I was possessed.

“Make me,” she sassed, opening her eyes for a fleeting second before they rolled back in her head on a thrust. She groaned. “Please.”

I chuckled. “Attagirl.”

Her smile was lazy, but her brows told a different story. They rose and drew in as her body coiled tight like a spring.

“There you go,” I soothed as I felt my body begin to do the same. I massaged her clit. “Just like that. Come for me.”

Her fingers curled around my bicep, holding on as she arched, then fractured. Catherine’s resounding cry echoed through the valley as she held fast, clinging to me through each pulsing wave.

I lost it. My orgasm crashed into me without warning. We lay fused, chest to chest as I poured inside her.