I ripped my nails down his back as my bed frame knocked against the wall. I felt my juices dripping onto my quilt just before he flipped me over and pulled my hips into the air.
And I heard those fatal words as he entered me from behind, something he had discovered that drove me wild while on our wilderness trek. "I missed you too, Courtney. Christ, I missed you so much."
I pressed back against him as his cock grew larger inside of me. I cried in ecstasy against my pillow, muting my sounds as bliss rushed through my veins. My eyes rolled into the back of my head. I felt yet another orgasm building. And when I popped, my walls spasmed around him, pulling him over the edge with me.
"Oh, shit. There it is. There it is, Courtney. You're so hot for me. Yeah, grip that dick. You like that, don't you?"
I whimpered through the spiraling darkness. "Yes, Brad, oh, my God!"
He collapsed against my back, sending me tumbling onto the mattress stomach-first. Brad panted against my shoulder as his cock filled me to the brim before my quivering walls pushed him out. Then, finally, he rolled off me and cocooned us in my quilt.
"Jesus, Courtney," he said breathlessly.
I tossed my arm over my eyes. "Holy shit, that was outstanding."
"I'll admit, making love in a sleeping bag is fun, but it was nothing like this!" Brad said, chuckling.
I kissed his cheek. "I'll second that. Definitely an improvement!"
I heard something ding in the distance, and Brad quickly shifted. I groaned as he moved off the bed and padded to where his clothes lay in a heap on the floor. Watching him intently as he studied the screen of his phone.
Then, the expression on his face softened. "It's just Giuseppe wanting to make sure we made it here to the Circle T in one piece. So I just told him everything went as planned."
"Come back here. I'm cold," I giggled, propping myself up on my elbow.
"Do you want me to close the window?"
"No, leave it open. I love the feel of the night air," I replied, snuggling deeper into the quilts.
Brad nodded, his gaze lingering on the moonlit landscape for a moment before he turned and ambled back to the bed. His silhouette, framed by the moon's silvery glow, looked almost ethereal.
He slipped under the covers, his warmth immediately seeping into me. I nestled into his side, my head resting on his chest. His arm wrapped around me, pulling me closer, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my back.
"Better?" he asked, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room.
"Much better," I replied, my words muffled against his chest. I could feel his chuckle more than I heard it, a gentle vibration against my cheek.
But tonight, it wasn't just the comforting sounds of the ranch that were easing me into a peaceful state. It was also Brad's steady breathing, his warmth, his presence. Knowing that he was here with me, we were finally together after months apart.
As I closed my eyes, my hand still resting over Brad's heart, I felt a sense of contentment enveloped in Brad's arms and the quiet Wyoming night.
As I ambleddown the hall, the tantalizing scent of brewing coffee and sizzling bacon wafted to me, sparking a warm memory of our idyllic trip to Yosemite. I trailed the fragrance, stepping into the kitchen where Courtney was, humming a cheerful tune as she busied herself with breakfast.
"Morning, Brad," she greeted with a small smile, not turning from the stove. "Coffee's ready."
"Thanks, Court," I replied, reaching for the pot and pouring myself a cup. The aroma was intoxicating, stirring a deep fondness for the woman in front of me. "Smells like the best breakfast in town."
Her chuckle rang out in the room, warming me more than my coffee could. "You always were a flatterer."
Her words, though light-hearted, echoed in the room, heavy with the weight of our current reality. Despite the picture of domestic tranquility we painted, we couldn't escape the grim truth. Yet, seeing her there, so absorbed in this moment of normalcy, a pang of sadness pulled at my heartstrings. Not wanting to disturb her, I quietly retreated from the kitchen, heading towards the living room with my coffee.
The worn leather couch in the rustic Circle T Ranch great room provided an anchor in the midst of my whirling thoughts. I held the photograph Courtney had shown me last night, the face of Clint Tyree staring back at me. He was older than the rest of us—me, Mitch, Chase, Guy, Ryder, and Daniel—during our college years. Clint was intelligent, always eager to lend his brains for cash, writing papers for other students. He was one of the original minds behind Rosedale, but when we refused to move the company to Seattle, he struck out on his own.
As I thought about how our relationship had changed, I remembered that Clint used to be friendly but slowly became distant. He used to call and visit us often, but then he started doing it less and less until he stopped completely. Looking back, I realize that there was a growing problem between us that he may have seen as a betrayal.