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“This way,” Fenway called, nearly yelling, yanking me to the side, then ducking under a squat tree.
Without another choice since he was still holding my hand captive, I followed, hair getting caught on branches as we squat-walked for a minute before we slipped through a hole in a rock formation, where we could finally stand up again, my burning thighs crying in gratitude.
The noise here was nearly deafening.
The spray from the water wet our faces as we got closer and closer to the wide opening to the side of the second waterfall.
“Okay, you’re right,” I declared, taking a deep breath, wanting to remember this sight, these smells, this one perfect moment.
There were many small, perfect moments in life.
I had pages of memories of them.
But this one felt different, bigger somehow.
Fenway moved in behind me once again, watching the cascading water from over my shoulder as his chin rested there, his arms wrapping me up once again.
Don’t ask me why I did it.
I couldn’t tell you. Not if I had a lifetime to analyze my motivations.
But my head turned, and my lips pressed to him.
Light.
Sweet.
I’d done a lot of kissing in my life. But it had always had a singular purpose, a lead up to something more.
This, though? This was not that. This was just connection, just intimacy, just taking the sensations that were overflowing out of me and trying to share them with him.
It was the purest, most innocent kiss of my life. I felt it down to my toes, up to the top of my scalp. A tingling that wasn’t desire, but something deeper, something stronger, something I wasn’t familiar enough with to have a name for.
My heart was beating hard in my chest, a kick-drum to my ribcage, as Fenway’s hand rose, gently framing the side of my face, turning me to face him completely.
I didn’t bother to fight the urge to wrap my arms around the back of his neck, to press my body tighter to his.
We stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity, lips soft, sweet, undemanding.
Eventually, though, the warmth that was spreading in my core made its way across my belly, over my chest, until every inch of me felt warm, felt the throbbing of desire.
My lips demanded more first, and Fenway’s were eager to give me exactly what I wanted, his hand sifting into my hair, tugging a little, making my head arch backward, giving him better access.
My hands moved down his back, gathering the material of his tee, pulling upward.
Our lips broke apart long enough for him to toss it to the side, his hands sinking into my ass, the slinky sundress hardly any barrier at all. I could feel the heat of his palms as surely as I felt the hard length of him pressing into my hip.
When his lips broke from mine again, it was so he could lower down to his knees, his hands bunching up the material of my skirt, pulling it slowly upward, his lips kissing each exposed inch of skin, the sensation of it going not only straight to my core, but higher, seeping into my heart as well, a warm, fuzzy feeling I had no name for, but found both comforting and overwhelmingly terrifying somehow at the same time.
But then his tongue was tracing the outline of my panties, wiping away anything but the desire that was like a stabbing sensation inside, something hot and acutely painful.
His lips didn’t move inward, though, but placed kisses across my hip, up my belly, between my breasts, up my throat, then pulling away completely to pull my dress over my head, leaving me in nothing but my barely-there panties, the cool water dampening my skin within seconds, sending a chill through me.
Fenway’s hands settled into my hips, turning me, pulling my back against his chest once again, both of us facing the waterfall as his hands covered my breasts, teasing my tightened nipples into harder buds, not relenting until my ass was grinding back against his hardness, desperate for relief from the clawing need inside.
Only then did one of his hands slide up, gently closing around my throat as the other slid down my belly, making a delicious path downward, under the waistband of my panties, then stroking up my cleft, finding my clit, circling it lazily, building the pressure.
Just when I thought I was at the breaking point, his fingers slid downward, slipping inside me, my muscles tightening hard, greedy for the sensation of fullness.
“Feel how much you want me?” he asked, his teeth nipping my earlobe.
And, God, yes, I did.
It was something almost bigger than myself, this need to have him inside me, something urgent, something that refused to be denied.
His fingers started to thrust lazily, hinting at what I needed, but refusing to give it to me, just wanting me whimpering, gasping for breath, fingernails digging crescents into the skin of his forearm.
