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How easily I stir for her, though. My beautiful girl.
Rocks shuffle and crackle on the beach, and I know someone else is up in the camp. I fist her hair, holding her tight to quiet her.
She slows down, calming her breathing, so we don’t embarrass ourselves in front of the others, but she keeps rolling her hips. Softly. Silently. Tonguing my lips, my goddamn stomach flipping as she drives me fucking crazy.
“You feel so good,” she mouths across my lips. “I love you, baby.”
My heart swells. I paw her tit, squeezing it and wanting it in my mouth.
But my cock throbs, warms, and I hold my breath as she quickens her pace, her hot body fucking me so good.
We come, our breath stut
tering and fighting to keep quiet as her tight pussy squeezes around me in wet heat. I spill inside of her, dropping my head back as I pulse and jerk, going as deep as I can.
I gasp for breath. Shit.
She falls into me, and we crash back to the sleeping bags, droplets of morning dew dotting the roof of our red tent.
Over the years, in all of the tents, cabins, motels, and truck beds we’ve slept in on our hikes and travels, she is always extra horny in tents. I don’t know why.
I kiss her, gripping her hair on the top of her head as I hold her to me.
“I never want to let you go,” I breathe out. “Not even to piss.”
She laughs. “You have to,” she says. “It’s your turn this morning.”
I grunt my displeasure at the reminder. I hate making him eat that gross shit.
She rolls off me, and I gaze longingly at her ass for a few more precious moments before I slip into my jeans and take the small bag she hands me.
I leave the tent and rise, stretching my arms above my head and taking in a breath of warm July air. The pond and waterfall lay ahead, my dad down on the rocky beach, working the fishing pole already. I grin. Hunting and fishing was the one thing we really liked doing together. I should’ve done it with him more growing up.
I wash up in the pot of water and rinse my face before drying off and taking the bag Tiernan gave me over to the green tent next to us. Unzipping it, I lean down and step in, seeing Noah still passed out on his back with my son tucked in his arm.
I stand there, appreciating the view for a moment. Griffin is eighteen months, and even though it was hard for Tiernan to finish her degree as a new mom, she did it. With some help from me. We stayed in Seattle for a year after she graduated, raising him and road-tripping, but finally now, we’re home in Chapel Peak.
Noah opens his eyes, yawning. “Hey.”
I kneel down, rubbing Griff’s hair as he still lies asleep. “Thanks for watching him,” I whisper. “We needed a night alone.”
I try to pull the kid off him. He needs a diaper change, no doubt.
But Noah tightens his arm around him. “No.” He scowls at me. “The little fucker and I bonded.”
I snort, prying my kid off him anyway. “Get your own.”
I hold my son in my arms as he shifts and yawns. He has sandy blond hair and green eyes, his bare feet half the size of my hand. He’s incredible.
I kiss his cheeks a few times, trying to wake him up. Pulling out the sippy cup Tiernan gave me, I put it to his lips, his eyes finally opening and drinking the milk.
“What the fuck is that?” Noah asks, staring down at the bag.
I pull out the plastic container, opening it up and grabbing the spoon.
“Some avocado and tofu shit,” I tell him, scooping up a serving.
Tiernan is determined he’ll be as much a California kid as a Colorado one. She can keep that delusion, because this kid will be all mine the moment he tastes barbecue ribs for the first time.
