Chapter Eighteen
Eighteen
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Caleb says, taking a flashlight with him as he exits the tent. I make quick work of grabbing the baby wipes the moment the tent’s entrance zips shut.
I strip off my clothes and toss them into the corner. I wipe every surface of my body, paying extra-special attention to my armpits and the space between my legs. I tell myself that after our swim earlier and this quick refresh, I’m probably not as grimy as I feel. But after four days of not showering I’ll settle for a neutral, if a tad baby-powdery, smell.
Caleb and I sat by the fire for hours, even staying long after Jai and Nina eventually went to bed, talking about nothing in particular. Conversation flowed and ebbed as we bounced from one meaningless topic to the next—in no rush to leave each other’s company. Tomorrow isn’t the last day of Reignite, but as we begin our return to where we began the hike four days ago, it certainly feels like the beginning of the end. I think we both wanted to hold onto this night as long as possible.
And…I don’t plan on letting it go just yet.
I hide the used wipes under my clothes, deciding to deal with it in the morning when we pack up to leave the site tomorrow. I unzip my sleeping bag to reveal the fleece interior and lay it out flat across the floor of the tent, cozy side up. As I hear Caleb’s footfalls approach, I throw my hair back into a tight, high pony and lie down on my stomach, reaching for my e-reader as I prop myself up on my elbows and cross my ankles to perk up my ass.
Oh, hi, love, didn’t see you there. Welcome back. Me? Oh, this is just how I read, silly…My nude body cast in warm light from the lantern’s delicate glow, my ass on show for you, my pussy playing hide-and-seek between my tightly shut thighs. Innocent, sweet, me.
The tent unzips and my smirk grows, though I do my best to focus on the page in front of me—but the words all blur and jumble like alphabet soup. “Hey, you.” I try my best to project a relaxed tone, hitting the button to turn to the next page despite not having read a word.
He gives me no verbal response. Instead, I hear his flashlight hit the ground and a low, familiar, needy, anguished growl. I fight a laugh, tugging my bottom lip between my teeth. “See something you like?” I ask, leisurely turning to look over my shoulder.
My husband is on his knees at the entrance of the tent—which is half open between us—looking tortured. The lantern I’ve left to the side of the door casts him in the same softened glow, illuminating the desire in his eyes that threatens to burn me alive.
I let out a breathy giggle, half nerves, half excitement. The last time he looked this struck by lust, he fucked me so hard that I had bruises from his fingertips on my hips for days. I admired them in the mirror like a badge of honor. He apologized daily, whispering his regrets with kisses onto my skin until the marks faded to nothing but a memory.
“Baby,” he whimpers low, leaning forward on a breath that flares his nostrils. His eyes drift down the slope of my back toward the swell of my ass. “Fuuuck,” he draws out, crawling through the opening and over to me.
“I love to see you crawl, love…but the door,” I say, placing my e-reader aside as I smoothly roll onto my back, arching to prop up my chest.
He doesn’t seem to hear me as he crowds me, his mouth just above my tits as he clenches his teeth, his eyes darkened. We both watch as my nipples harden and goosebumps spread across my skin with each of his warm breaths, tantalizingly close but somehow, simultaneously, too far.
“Close the door,” I whisper, tilting my chin toward him, “so I can open my legs.” I rub my knees together, desperate for any sort of friction.
Caleb’s gaze slides down my belly toward the crest of my tightly closed thighs. He nods slowly as he backs away without taking his eyes from me. His chest heaves as he blindly reaches for the zipper.
“Good boy,” I whisper, pushing out my lips as I speak. I guide my tongue across my top lip as I curve my mouth into a devilish grin. He’s absolutely going to give in. I can feel his will breaking like a tether between us pulling too tight—about to snap.
When the zipper reaches the end of the track, securing us inside, tensions multiply tenfold.
“Open,” he says before taking his shirt off with one hand grasping the fabric over his shoulder.
Instead of doing as told, I admire him, enjoying the hard edges of his chest and stomach and the trail of hair that disappears below his jeans.
“I said…” Caleb crawls over to me again then holds his half-naked body above mine. I let out a soft moan as he leans down until our lips nearly brush. “Open,” he repeats, hovering above me. His minty breath has me unconsciously lifting up to kiss him as my eyes close. But, rudely, he pulls back.
I glare at him, lying down, resting on my elbows and forearms. He seems to enjoy my annoyance, the corners of his eyes creasing as a grin grows. It would seem we are both playing for control tonight. “Take off your pants,” I command.
He listens immediately, moving to lie back on his sleeping mat. He tears off his jeans and tosses them aside, revealing black boxer briefs underneath that do nothing to hide his erection. He sits across from me, the shape of his legs creating a V as he gets comfortable with bent knees spread wide and feet touching in front of him. His forearms casually rest across each knee, his hands meeting in the middle and his fingers intertwining. “Your turn,” he says, swallowing heavily.
We make eye contact so intense that it causes a thrill to course through me, forcing me to take in a sharp gasp of air. I tilt my head back as I lower my shoulder to the cushioning below and snake a hand over my ribs and down the center of my belly, toward the apex of my thighs. Still, I keep my eyes on him.
“That’s it…” Caleb says, leaning forward with hooded eyes.
I watch him as I part my legs, bending my knees to the sides. I guide my hand down the sensitive skin of my inner thigh and his eyes trace the movement of my fingers as if he’s stalking prey. Bringing my hand back toward my needy center, I caress the responsive flesh with a featherlight touch.
With a wistful sigh, I let my eyes close as I press my clit between two fingers and begin moving in agonizingly slow circles. I feel my nipples peak and harden again, and it sends a shiver across my skin that makes my back curl.
I hear Caleb move and feel the coarse hair of his thigh brush against my left knee, his warmth teasingly close. When I open my eyes, he doesn’t notice. His stare is locked on the hand moving against my pussy. His lips rubbing together as if he’s dying to put his mouth on me.
“Touch me,” I say breathlessly.
He shakes his head, not losing his weighted gaze as I rub one finger down my slit and back. “No,” he says, his voice low. “Make me pay for it, baby.” Caleb drops down to lie on his stomach, resting his chin against the side of my bent knee. “Show me what I’ve been missing.”
“Please,” I say, desperately tilting my hips as if my body and my fingers are fighting for more and less. “This isn’t fun anymore. I want you.”
“It can be fun if you want it to be.” He smiles up at me, his gaze flicking to my face. “I won’t touch you tonight. I want you to feel good. I want you to come undone and I want to watch…but I don’t want to break the rules. Not yet.”
I bring two fingers through the slickness dripping from my entrance and then hold them out to him like an offering as I test my abdominal strength, sitting up slightly. “How about your mouth?” I ask. “Can I have that?” I say, coating his bottom lip with my wetness as he smiles for me.
He lifts his chin off my knee to shake his head no, but I watch as his tongue darts out to lick the taste of me off his lip, nevertheless. “Fuck, baby, you taste so damn good….”
I lower myself back down and angle my hips toward him, so he can see all of me as I push two fingers into my entrance and curl them to exactly the right spot. The spot I didn’t know existed before him.
“That’s it, baby. Make it so good that I suffer. Make me jealous.”
I don’t even have to exaggerate my sounds to add to his suffering. I’ve been so not in the right mind space to touch myself for so long that my body is immediately brought back to life, panting and moaning, tensing, and heaving for every touch, tap, and movement.
“God dammit,” Caleb grits out, his teeth bared.
“Having regrets?” I reply, my voice wavering with a cruel sort of laugh.
“So, so many.” He tilts his mouth against my knee, not in a kiss so much as a muzzle, or a gag. It’s as if he’s keeping his mouth from moving or speaking by pressing himself into me to the point of what must be causing him pain—his bottom teeth digging into the inside of his lip. I lift my neck, wondering if he’s shut his eyes or if he’s taking this so-called punishment well.
Caleb’s eyes remain transfixed though they’re weary, pained, even, with a seemingly desperate amount of need.
I think I can get him to give us both what we want with one more push. “I need your help,” I whisper. His stare quirks sharply to my face, the corner of his smile barely in view as he presses his face into the soft flesh of my thigh. “Do you want to help? Without breaking the rules?” He nods, like a man possessed as I shift my hand to my hip bone, allowing him a full view. “Be a good boy and spit on it,” I demand.
Caleb lifts himself up urgently, the muscles in his upper body flexing deliciously taut as he moves into position between my legs. On bended knees, as if he’s about to pray, Caleb bows his head, puckers his lips, glances up to me for approval, and then spits on my pussy. Not once. Not twice. But three times.
Everything inside of me tightens and coils, forcing a whimpering cry from my chest to escape past my lips.
I gasp as he falls forward, propping his hands on either side of my hips as he stalks above my lower belly. He groans, inhaling deeply as he brushes his nose dangerously close to my skin.
“I see you’re putting all of your other senses to good use,” I tease, though my voice is frail.
“You smell like sex.” He bends his elbows and his beard skates across my hip. “Our sex.”
I hiss, my toes curling at the sensation I had imagined earlier today, his coarse hair acting like a tripwire warning to my most ticklish, sensitive skin. “Fuck you,” I groan, fighting the urge to press that beard exactly where I want it.
“Sorry.” He lifts off me, going back to the praying position between my thighs, holding my legs open for him. “Continue,” he orders, his fingers flexing over the top of my knees.
Try as I might to be a brat, I cannot find the willpower. So, I do as I’m told. I mix his saliva with my own wetness, coating myself until my slippery fingers can eagerly toy with my clit, increasing the speed until moans are spilling past my lips like incantations in long lost languages.
“That’s it, baby,” he tells me. “Feel it. Feel everything.”
“I’m close,” I tell him.
“Good, I want you to come. I want you to feel so, so good, baby.”
“Not…good enough…without you…” I strain, sucking in sharp breaths between each other word.
“Yes, it is. Tell yourself how good you can make yourself feel. You own this pussy, right?”
“Yes,” I reply, pushing my lips tightly together as I near what promises to be a deeply rewarding finish.
“Say it,” Caleb says.
“Fuck,” I groan out, beginning to shudder as the peak of my climax moves higher and further away.
“Tell me who owns this pussy,” Caleb says, loud enough to hear over both of our panted breaths.
“I do,” I answer, my lower belly coiling impossibly tight. “I own this pussy.”
“Until tomorrow,” he says just as I arrive, falling apart as he gently caresses the inside of my knee with his thumb. “Then, I’m going to have my turn with it,” Caleb promises.
I cry out with a fluttering, helpless whine as I luxuriate in every second of my orgasm, each muscle and tendon throughout my body tensing before relaxing like putty against the blanket below.
“That’s my good wife,” Caleb says, moving to my side. My eyes drift closed but I hear him as he reaches into my pack, finds the crinkling plastic of the wet wipes, and then I feel him as he brushes the cool cloth along my inner thighs and core, wiping me clean.
It’s indubitably cruel, that it’s the most intimate way he’s touched me in weeks. But it’s equally thoughtful and kind.
“How do you feel?” he asks me, his voice in a whisper. “What do you need?”
“Perfect,” I mumble. “Blanket…” I say with a wistful sigh.
With that, Caleb folds my sleeping bag over me and zips me into it, cocooning me in perfect warmth that I find myself wishing was his body instead. With a gentle kiss to my forehead, he turns off the lantern and, for what may be the very first time in our marriage, I think I fall asleep before Caleb does.