Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
DALTON
C amille glances around the tack room, her warm blue eyes swimming with interest and surprise. “Out here ?”
I grin before I drop a quick kiss to her lips. “Would you prefer we go back up to the cabin and try to find some place where you’d have to be quiet?”
A pink flush rushes up her neck and over her cheeks, and she shakes her head, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.
For such a confident, outspoken woman to be rendered speechless is a true accomplishment, and the fact that I am capable of it just by suggesting we have a repeat of last night makes pride swell in my chest.
“That’s what I thought.”
I reach for the waistband of her stretchy pants and gently slide them down over her stomach and to her ankles. Sliding my hands to her ass, I lift her onto the edge of the table and make quick work of her boots which hit the floor with two distinct thunks wherever I toss them.
In order to proceed with my plans, I need her spread wide open, and I tug off her pants and set them beside her, then press my palms against her inner thighs, urging them apart as she shudders under my touch.
My cock aches, pressed against the fly of my jeans so hard that it feels like I may end up with an imprint of the teeth on it by the time I finally free it from its confines.
I’m desperate for her in a way I never knew I could be for another person. Even last night, it was more controlled, a far more measured satisfaction of need.
This is something else entirely.
This is desperation.
Camille’s eyes flare wide as I keep nudging her legs wider and wider until she’s spread open completely before me. “What are you going to do?”
I let my focus drift to the apex of her thighs, and out here in the broad daylight streaming in from the small window, I can see her in all her glory. “Besides staring at the most exquisite part of the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen?”
Her hand drops to my shoulder and squeezes, and I slowly sink to my knees before I lift my gaze to meet hers.
Those pretty lips of hers part on a little, “Oh…” as she realizes my intent.
I don’t bother fighting my grin as I slide my hands around the back of her thighs and adjust her to the edge of the table, giving me the perfect angle and height to finally taste her everywhere.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful, Camille.”
Her hands grip the old wood as she watches me intently, her chest heaving rapidly even though I haven’t touched her yet. At least not in the way I want to.
But just like yesterday, I am a complete rookie in the getting-my-woman-off-with-my-mouth department, and the last thing I want to do is fail at this.
“You’re going to have to help me out here, Camille, because I’m fucking clueless about how to do this right.”
She releases a little laugh, the table creaking as she adjusts her position to get more comfortable with her elbows behind her, supporting her weight. “You’re not clueless; you’re just—”
“I’m fucking clueless.” I laugh as I dip my head closer, letting my warm breath flutter across her skin. “It’s okay to say it. But I promise I’m a very fast learner…”
A humored huff floats down to me. “You certainly proved that last night.”
I lift my head to raise a brow at her. “Did I now?”
Her cheeks flush even redder as I return my focus to her pussy, now glistening so beautifully with her arousal.
Jesus…
My mouth waters for what I’ve been fantasizing about tasting, and I lean in and glide my tongue across her.
The flavor of her need coats my mouth, and I groan as my cock throbs in appreciation of it. She gasps and grips the wood tight enough to make it creak again.
“Dalton…”
“Like that?”
I pull my head back and tip it to the side to see her face around her belly in this position. She nods vigorously, and the trembling of her thighs against my ears makes me grin again as I dip my head and do it again and again.
Exploring her.
Savoring her.
Memorizing how everything I do makes her react.
Like flicking the tip of my tongue across her clit…
Her hips buck off the table, and I reach up with my left hand and press it across her to help keep her down.
“So, basically, I should just do with my tongue what I did with my fingers and my cock?”
She mewls in that needy way that makes pre-cum eke out and wet the front of my jeans. “God, yes…”
If I thought everything else we’ve done was a test of my control, I greatly underestimated what it would be like to feast on Camille Bower.
I chuckle against her damp flesh, and she twitches slightly, her thighs tightening on the sides of my head.
She likes that.
Which means I like it.
A-fucking-lot.
I do it again, allowing the vibration to roll through her, and the force with which she pushes against my hold with her bowing hips makes me confident that I know exactly what she needs—even if I’ve never done this before.
What kind of a man would I be if I couldn’t figure out how to get my woman off this way?
Not the kind I would want to be.
I slip a finger inside her, and she groans, her head dropping back against the wall behind the table hard enough to knock something off the shelf above her, sending it clattering to the floor beside me.
Her pussy squeezes around me, and my cock throbs at the memory of her doing that last night around it . My balls seize up, threatening to make me come in my pants like the inexperienced kid I am if I’m not more careful about where I let my thoughts go while I should be focused on her .
She tunnels a hand in my hair, tugging on the strands slightly as her hips begin to roll against my mouth.
I work her over, thrusting the finger inside her while I lash at her flesh and suck her clit between my lips.
Her movements eventually find a rhythm I match, letting her take the lead.
Showing me how she likes it by her body’s responses.
The quivers.
The whimpers.
The way her pussy clenches around me, seeking…
Her head shakes from side to side, almost frantically.
She needs more.
I slip another finger inside her, spreading her wider, and she groans—an agonizingly sexual sound I feel all the way through every nerve in my body.
I’ve never tasted anything so sweet, so satisfying, as her, or experienced anything as gratifying as the knowledge that I’m about to make her come.
That I’m doing this to her.
That I’m giving it to her.
Her body starts to tremble violently, and the old, uneven table rattles on its legs. “Curl your fingers…”
I do as she instructs, curving them deep inside of her and dragging my fingertips along the walls of her pussy as I withdraw. A strangled moan fills the room, and I suck her clit between my lips hard while flicking my tongue across it.
Camille stills and cries out as her orgasm slams into her.
Her hips grind against my face, pussy clasping around my fingers, and the wash of her sweet release flows down my throat.
God, I could drown in this woman and go happily.
But right now, I only want one thing, and that’s to be inside her, to feel this all over again, this time around my cock.
When she finally sags back, her body lax and sated, I pull my head and hand away and climb to my feet.
She lies panting on the table, hooded gaze following my every move as I slide my hands around her back to tug her up to me, so I can press my lips against hers.
Her arms loop around my neck, and she entangles her fingers in my hair, clutching me to her the best she can, allowing me to devour her mouth the same I just did her pussy.
I finally slow the kiss, drawing away long enough to search her face for any signs of distress or—hopefully—bliss. “How did I do?”
Camille grins lazily. “Fucking magnificent.”
The compliment shouldn’t make me preen like a fucking peacock, but it does.
Warmth floods my chest, and I shift away from her. At this angle, with as big as her belly’s gotten, there’s no way this will work and allow her to be comfortable on that table.
Stepping back, I gently ease her off the edge until her feet hit the floor. She wobbles slightly, her hands grasping my upper arms to keep herself upright on shaky legs.
I brush my lips over her ear, enjoying the little shiver of anticipation that rolls through her. “Turn around.”
Her eyes flare, and that blush creeps up her neck and over her cheeks again as her mouth falls open. But she doesn’t hesitate. She releases her grip on me and gives me her back, pressing her hands flat against the table, then leaning forward onto her elbows.
I move in behind her and press against her bare skin, hot even through the confines of my jeans that feel about five sizes too small at the moment.
There is nothing about this woman that isn’t stunning, but bent over like this, with her lush ass and glistening pussy in the air in offering to me, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful.
If I could take a picture to capture this moment forever, I would carry it with me everywhere, but a mental snapshot will have to do for now.
Though I can guarantee it’s been searing into my memory like an erotic tattoo I will never want to remove.
I lean over her, kissing along the back of her neck to her ear where I nip at the lobe and make her shiver. “You tell me if this is too much, too hard, if I’m hurting you or the baby.”
She shakes her head. “You won’t.”
Sliding my hand around her neck, I force her head back until our eyes meet. “You’ll tell me.”
It isn’t up for debate.
I appreciate her faith in me, but I don’t have the experience to know if what my body will want me to do is what I should be in this position or her condition.
She nods, and I reach between us and unzip my pants, freeing my aching cock from the constrictive prison. I shove the fabric down only to mid-thigh, unwilling to wait even the few extra seconds it would take to get them all the way off before I align with her slick heat.
I push in on a long, slow glide, giving her time to accept me, to adjust.
Fuck, this angle, this position…
My balls seize up again, and I grit my teeth and still myself because if I move even another fraction of an inch, I’m going to come instantly.
Camille squeezes around me, only half inside her, and glances over her shoulder at me in question. Her body trembles under my hands at her hips. “Dalton?”
“I…need…a second.”
She clamps down harder, a whimper falling from her lips and striking me square in that spot in my chest that belongs only to her. “I need you. Now.”
Her words snap the last threat of my restraint, and my control slips as I push into her all the way, until her ass presses against my pelvis and my cock is buried to the hilt.
“Fucking hell, Camille.”
I drop my hands down on top of hers on the table, entwining our fingers, and burying my face against her neck. Her orange blossom scent invades my choppy breaths as I draw my hips back and slowly plunge into her again.
She releases a strangled cry, and I immediately freeze my movements.
“No!” A keening whimper comes from her parted lips. “Keep going.”
Camille is strong.
Determined.
She can take so much more than I ever give her credit for.
Thank God, because I feel like my control is about to slip even more.
* * *
CAMILLE
Each thrust of Dalton’s hips propels him deeper, rocking me against the rickety table. He seems more confident than I am that it will continue to hold our weight.
His fingers twined with mine tighten on top of it, and he brushes his lips along the column of my exposed neck until he makes it to my ear, leaving goosebumps pebbling across my skin. “You’re. So. Fucking. Beautiful, Camille.”
He punctuates each word with a drive of his hips, and they race through me like a wildfire, threatening to sear me from the inside out with the intensity.
I squeeze around his cock in response, my body struggling to process the blustering flames liquifying me at my core where our bodies connect. He groans his approval, his chest rumbling against my back, and he pushes into me even harder.
Stretching me to the brink of what I can take.
Filling me completely and still finding a way to seek more.
But he would never hurt me or the baby.
I know that even if he doesn’t.
Given his question earlier, his demand that I let him know if it’s too much, I don’t think he does believe he’ll know when that line not to cross appears. Yet last night proved that he not only recognizes it but will never make that jump across it.
I trust him completely with everything.
Our safety.
Our lives.
And even what’s left of my heart.
What he said to me last night rings in my ears as loudly as the slap of our bodies coming together in the intense rhythm he’s set.
You can love him and want this at the same time…
It was like he was speaking directly to my soul when he said those words. As if he could see everything I had been struggling with for months when it came to my growing feelings for him and the fact that my heart still yearned for Dave.
God knows I want them both.
I can never stop loving Dave.
He was my everything .
The first man I ever truly loved. Who offered me a different life and gave me all I ever dreamed of. He was the perfect partner and father. And he never took any of it for granted. He loved unconditionally and completely.
But Dalton has taken my shattered, splintered, practically disintegrated heart, and somehow managed to find a tiny piece that still beat.
A single shard that was worth trying to save.
He latched onto it, and he stoked it like one does the tiniest hint of a spark until it finally bursts into a flame.
Dalton brought me back to life, made me believe I could be happy again by pointing out those individual moments each day where I could find joy.
There have been so many with Davey, Pops, and him.
None of them compared to this. To being with him, to feeling alive again with every drag of his hips and the way the head of his cock catches inside me in just the right spot to steal my breath.
I move back against him, trying to meet his driving rhythm, and he pulls one hand from mine and slides it around my belly, protectively.
It draws a low whimper from me—the act so sweet, so careful and protective.
Then his hand slips lower still until he finds my aching clit.
My body twitches at the lightest brush of his calloused fingertips, and he draws back and snaps his hips in a way that forces a throaty moan from deep inside me.
“Does that feel good? Like that?”
He does it again, and I practically choke on my breath but manage to nod.
Dalton may not have a lot of experience where women are concerned, but what he lacks there, he makes up for with absolute, unbridled passion and attention to detail.
His commitment to ensuring this is good for me, to giving me the release I know he’s also chasing before he finds his own is so damn sweet.
It only makes me want him more.
And the longer he strokes and glides his fingers over my clit, the harder he thrusts into me, the more I want this to continue.
I want it for more than just last night and today.
I know he does, too.
Even if he’s afraid to say it, even if he’s scared that I’ll run away if he does.
We want the same thing.
All this time, I’ve been relying on him. I had to give myself over and trust him to take care of us and fix what had become broken. And he has, time and time again.
He’s been there for me, for Davey, the same way he is for Pops.
And now he’s taking care of me again, making absolutely sure I get exactly what I need so expertly that my body is primed and ready for it when he pinches my clit slightly.
I explode, that scalding heat of release rippling across my skin and out through every nerve in my body.
Dalton keeps working me over. Pumping his hips. His hand tightening on top of mine on the table as his ministrations with the other drag my release on and on.
By the time it finally ebbs and my body is nothing but a twitchy, Jell-O-y mass, I can tell he is close.
His movements become erratic.
Frantic.
Desperate.
He lifts his hand from between my legs and uses it to tilt my head back until he can take my mouth with a soul-wrenching kiss.
Were you really going to fight this?
Were you really going to deny what this man has made you feel?
In only a handful of months, he has brought me back from the brink of disaster, when I thought I couldn’t go on without Dave. And now, I can’t imagine my life without him , without this . Without waking up with him beside me like I did this morning. Without him kissing me like his very life depends on securing the oxygen from my lungs.
I can’t imagine living without Davey’s laughter as they play in the rain, or when Dalton takes him on a ride on Apollo, or chases chickens around the yard with him.
Dave may have been the love of my life, but Dalton has slowly become the center of it without me even realizing it was happening.
He is the cornerstone, what has kept me strong and allowed Davey and me time to heal, time to process.
And no matter what comes, I know he’ll keep me safe in his arms like this. He won’t let go.
Never.
He finally plunges deep, his gasp falling from his lips into mine as he comes, and I squeeze around him, dragging on his orgasm the same way he did mine until he finally groans.
His arms slip around my belly, and he tugs me against him upright.
His lips trail down my neck to my collarbone. “God, Camille, that was incredible. You’re incredible.”
I laugh lightly at the compliment as I reach back and wrap my arms around his neck, threading my fingers through his thick, sometimes unruly hair that no doubt looks a hot mess after what we just did.
“You know I’ll always protect you, right?”
His question makes me stiffen slightly, and I glance at him over my shoulder. “Of course. Why are you asking me that?”
“Because I changed my mind.” He squeezes me gently, possessively. “I don’t want you to go. I thought it would be easier to know you were safe somewhere away from here. But honestly, the thought of letting you and Davey and Pops out of my sight when everything is so unclear actually means it would be the only thing I was thinking about.”
“So, you want us to stay?”
He nods, and my heart lifts. “I know this mountain better than I know myself. Every leaf, every tree, every stream, every inch of it is part of me, and knowing it that well is going to be what allows me to protect it and you better here.”
The sincerity of his words makes my chest ache.
I can see the benefits of both options.
If we go, we would be safe, at least temporarily, from whatever’s happening up here. But there is no guarantee there would be anything to come back to if we did leave. If we stay, Dalton has backup for whatever might be coming, and we’ll be on home turf.
“What do I have to do to get you to say yes?”
I press my lips to his cheek. “Nothing. You just did it. You promised you would take care of us and protect us, and I believe you.”
“That’s all I need to do?”
He sounds surprised, and I turn the best I can to see his face fully.
His eyes search mine, like he’s half-expecting me to change my mind. “You should want to go, Camille. You should want to take yourself and Davey somewhere that none of this can reach you.”
I shake my head, hating the darkness overtaking his gaze. “No. I want to be where I feel the safest. And that is with you.”
He shivers against me, clutching me to him tighter, his hands settling over the expanse of my stomach. The way his eyes drift down to that spot, the sheer wonder and love in them, is enough to help assuage any fears I have that staying might be the wrong choice.
This is James Mountain.
This is his home.
This is my home.
And I won’t let anyone scare me away from it—even temporarily.
This little girl will be coming into the world soon, and I want it to be this one. With Dalton at my side, Pops watching our backs, and Davey running around the homestead free from the complications of life beneath the mountain.
If that means facing down the reality of what that slip of paper has brought to our doorstep, then so be it.
I’ve faced worse situations and won’t back down from this one.