Chapter 43
Cecily
The glamping portion of the trip is my restitution for putting up with hours of listening to Rainbow wax poetic about auras and gemstones and vortexes.
Kerrigan needn't be worried, there is no real camping to be found here.
Sky Island Glamping is a place you'd expect to find a celebrity who calls themselves 'down-to-earth' in an interview.
The tents are not called tents, but suites.
Made of thick, sturdy canvas, the freestanding suite is large enough for a full bathroom, king-size bed, and a sixteen-foot long floor-to-ceiling window to show off a panoramic view of the Ponderosa pine forest beyond.
The suite also has air-conditioning and heating, and as the perky employee who showed us to the suite reminded us, "It's that time of year where you never know which one you'll need. "
"This is probably the coolest place we've been so far," Dom says, lying back on the bed and looking up at the skylight where, when it's dark, we should be able to see millions of stars from the comfort of our plush bed.
"I can't get over this view." I'm standing beside the windowed wall, staring out at the dense forest, the clouds hanging low above the treetops. In the distance, the clouds are heavy and dark. "It doesn't seem real."
"It's stunning," Dom agrees.
I look back to say something, but the words die in my throat. He's not looking outside at the natural wonder. His gaze is locked on me.
"Come here," he says, his voice vining around me, pulling me in. I should be ashamed of how quickly I go to him, but I can't muster the indignation. The man I recently loathed has become someone I'm growing addicted to. Maybe there really is a thin line between love and hate.
I tuck in beside him, lying on my back so I can look up at the darkening sky. Watching an afternoon thunderstorm from the safety of Dom's arms, cocooned in this soft bed, sounds like paradise.
"How are you feeling?" Dom's question rolls over me.
He's not asking how I'm feeling in this moment, at least not directly. He wants to know how I'm feeling about listening to Savage Grandma struggle for breath on the short, easy, flat walk to the vortex.
"Like a part of my heart is being slowly ripped from my body."
"Yeah," he says. There is sorrow in his tone. "That was hard."
"She got so mad when we asked her if we should turn back."
"What did she say?" Dom had taken a position at the front of the group, the leader setting the pace after Duke's long-legged strides proved too strenuous for Grandma.
"My dad offered to carry her, and she told him she would ground him if he touched her." It took her a long time to say it, each word buffeted by breaths dragged into her throat.
I look up at Dom and find him looking at me. "Savage," we say in unison, smiling in that way that's not actually happy, but we're both desperate for an ounce of reprieve from the gloom that hangs heavy in our hearts.
A crack of thunder rings in the distance.
Dom gets up from the bed, going to stand beside the window. "That storm is headed right for us."
"It appears so."
"Everyone else said they were going to take a nap." He turns back to me. His eyes are as dark as the incoming storm. "Maybe we should, too."
I pop up to my elbows. "You want to take a nap?"
Hunger floods his eyes. Heat. "A very specific kind of nap."
My teeth skim my bottom lip. "Does this specific kind of nap have a name?"
He considers. "Active nap."
I pretend to deliberate, tipping my head back-and-forth. "I suppose I could be convinced."
Dom presses the button on the wall, and the automatic shutters lower. Bit by bit, the room darkens. The only light is from above, but even that grows darker by the minute as the storm approaches.
Dom walks closer. Stalks, really. A predator. I lift my chin. He smiles, wolfish.
Climbing onto the bed, he grips my knees and spreads my legs apart, settling between them.
He palms my thighs. "I told you I was going to be so nice to you."
You also said you were going to fuck your wife the way a husband should.
I loved it in the moment when he said that. So strong, so certain. I felt like I was his. His wife, but for real.
Dom reaches for my calves, bending my knees and placing my feet on the bed. My dress falls down to my hips. Dom lets out a moan of approval as his eyes rake over me.
"Another one of these pretty silk thongs," he comments, finger tracing up the center of the fabric.
I say nothing, hips bucking at his touch. I suppose the motion speaks for me.
He hooks his finger around the side of the silk, pulling it aside like a curtain. "So fucking inviting." He drags a finger along me, teasing. "Am I invited?" His eyes remain fastened to me.
Half-drunk for this man, I say, "Not if you've been eating spicy peppers."
He grunts a laugh. "I won't eat spicy food ever again."
"You don't have to give up your favorite food for me."
He leans down suddenly, pressing his mouth to me. The comforter bundles in my grasp as I search for something to hold on to.
He drags a slow circle over me, then lifts his head and says, "I have a new favorite meal."
I am done. Done. My hands reach down, fingernails raking through those caramel curls. Thunder overhead, the tip tap tip tap of raindrops hitting the canvas.
Dom teases me relentlessly, lapping at me, drawing it out. "Please," I finally whisper, and Dom immediately listens. Slipping his hands under my backside, he lifts me, like I really am a meal.
My eyes have been closed, but I allow myself a peek.
Dom's eyes are shut, mouth pressed to me.
He works me over with fervor, with passion, as if he loves it there.
As if it matters to him. He desires my body, sharing an intimacy.
Dom is a real man, the kind I thought existed solely in women's fantasies.
Seeing him like this, intent on bringing me pleasure, sends me over the edge. The rain picks up, and my pulse pounds.
"Dom," I whisper, fingernails scraping his shoulders.
"Mm-hmm," he groans against me, telling me he knows. He's meeting me where I am, giving me what I need. He's telling me he's here for it. Here for me. He has been all along.
I shatter. Dom holds me steadfastly, keeping me in place as I writhe. His ministrations change in pressure, becoming softer, looser, lazier. Almost adoring.
He lowers my backside to the bed, pressing a kiss to the inside of my thigh. He lets go of my underwear he had held to the side this whole time. Curtain closing.
But I don't want it to close.
I want him. I want my husband. I don't know what that means, or will mean to us in the future. I only know that I need him. I need Dom. In so many ways, but right now, in this way.
"Take them off," I tell him.
He looks down, his lips and chin shiny with remnants of me. "Are you sure?" he asks.
"Last night you said you'd fuck your wife the way a husband should. The way you said it, it felt like a promise."
Still between my legs, he hesitates.