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“Do you hear that?” I pump my fingers in and out of her channel, loving the sound of her soaking cunt around my fingers.
Her back arches beneath me as I circle her g-spot with my finger. Fuck I want to taste her. She moans my name as her trembling changes from chilled to heated.
“Vi, that’s your body telling on you.”
I know I’m totally fucked as I lean down and press my lips to hers. Her mouth tastes like cinnamon gum and cherry chapstick, a spicy sweet taste that wouldn’t make sense on anyone else. She moans into my mouth as I stroke her tongue, letting her explore my piercing. She bites my lip as she comes, her pussy clenching around my drenched fingers.
My cock is leaking pre-cum, begging to slide into her, but I know she’s not ready. I’m an asshole, but I have some boundaries. I’m content knowing that I’m the first guy to give her pleasure like that. It’s enough for now.
Her body goes loose and pliant against mine. She shifts so we’re back to laying on our sides facing each other. I wish her hair was down so I could run my fingers through the dark length of it like I used to when she would fall asleep first. I was obsessed with the way the light would bounce off the strands as I wound them through my fingers.
My obsession was always there, she’s always been the center of my world. A star whose gravity trapped me as a kid. Then the pendulum swung, and I became the black hole dragging her into the void ever so slowly. Hope surges through me, a foreign warmth, as I hold her close and hope that maybe we can overcome the past and find a future together where we don’t destroy each other.
With Violet in my arms, my mind and body settle into a deep contentment, and I fall asleep easier than I have in years.
ChapterSeven
West’s deep breaths fan across my temple as my eyes flutter open the next morning. I fell asleep shortly after the orgasm he gave me. I’ve never felt like that from my own fingers, and I’ll never tell him that, but it was mind-blowing.
I try to lift his hand from its current position, cupping my boob, but he grumbles and holds me tighter. I’m surprised his other arm isn’t completely numb from my weight resting on it all night. After a couple of minutes his breathing deepens again.
I need to sneak out of here before he wakes so I can get a lead. I wonder how far away Blake and Cody are and if they found shelter from the storm and rain last night. As soon as the thought enters my mind I shake it out right back out.
I shouldn’t worry about these assholes.
Fuck them.
If I wasn’t in deep denial, I’d probably admit that I was ready to let West fuck me last night. Right up until I remembered that he’s the reason no one ever has. They don’t know it, but a couple guys from the soccer team told me all about their order for everyone to keep their hands off me. Just another way to alienate me and make me feel like an undesirable outcast.
It worked. Their execution was flawless. It gives me another reason to want to win. To prove to them that I’m worth more than a wad of discarded gum on the sidewalk. I have value and it’s time these douchebags learned that.
Holding my breath and biting my lip, I roll and move down out of West’s arms. I wince as the blanket comes with me but the rush of cool air doesn’t seem to bother him. He rolls partially onto his back, one muscular thigh falling to the side.
I can’t help looking. As much as I wish his exterior was as ugly as the inside, it’s not. He’s masculine perfection. His arms are toned with lean muscle. His abs are so cut I can see every notch, even while he’s sleeping, including the vee of muscles that point down to his dick, which is half hard. Then there’s his legs, thickly muscled and solid after years of soccer. I hate how much I want him.
Shaking my head with disgust at myself, I locate my clothes and pack. He must have laid them out last night after I fell asleep, but they are still a little damp.Luckily the extra set of clothes they put inside is dry and includes a sports bra. I get dressed quickly and quietly, tossing nervous glances over my shoulder.
He’s still sprawled out, one foot dangling off the foot of the bed, and the soft snores assure me that he’s actually asleep and not just playing. I peer out the window into the misty, gray dawn light. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s probably a little before six.
I get everything gathered up and step out into the cool morning. The mist is thick enough to cover the ground and visibility is only about ten feet. But I know which direction to walk in using the tower as a guide.
About ten minutes into my walk I hear a crow in a branch above me. I look up and I swear it’s the same one from yesterday. It flies from branch to branch in front of me. It almost feels like it’s guiding me. Especially because it keeps looking back at me, as though checking to see if I’m still following.
I’m convinced that is exactly what the crow is doing when I emerge from the tree line right back at the creek I was following yesterday. The bird led me right back to the path I’m most familiar with. I vaguely remember an article about crows liking shiny things but I only have a piece of metallic thread coming off my pack. I pull it off carefully and hold my hand out palm up. The crow eyes me for several long seconds before flying onto my arm and picking it up in its beak. I watch as the crow flies off, probably back to its nest with the little treasure of thanks I gave it.
After an hour of hiking, the sun finally burns through the fog, and I stop for a few minutes on a rock to open up one of the protein bars and have some breakfast. I tilt my head back and bask in the sun, letting the warmth chase away the last trace of chill.
My thoughts drift to West and the way he held me. It was so softly familiar, the way his fingers toyed with the strands of hair that had fallen loose. I’d forgotten how he used to play with my hair and put me to sleep when we were kids. I never felt as content as I did on the nights I’d fall asleep watching movies in his room.
His mom would always wake us with a stack of chocolate chip pancakes and bacon. The corners of my lips tilt upward at the memory. The way I was always embraced by his parents, just as he was by mine. I’ve often wondered how things might have been different if my parents had left me to them instead of John. Surely our childhood affection would have remained steady instead of turning into such deep animosity.
The sound of a twig snapping pulls me out of the bittersweet thoughts and the hairs on my arm raise in warning. I turn around, expecting to see one of the guys, but it’s the same hiker from yesterday.
His eyes are a cloudy brown as they take me in. “Good morning.”
Nothing about him is overtly intimidating, but for some reason my entire body revolts at his proximity.
“Hi.” I stand up slowly and grab my pack.
