37. Katy
Chapter thirty-seven
Katy
A few days after his birthday, Jay takes me on my very first camping trip. When he said come away with me , I jumped to say yes. And then to say no. I found myself torn between my head and my heart: desperate to be with him, to spend a long weekend with him as my undivided focus, whilst at the same time, conscious that his sister—my best friend—still knows nothing of our relationship. And that she can’t know about us. So we have to lie, and that means keeping our secret from everyone.
As far as my best friends know, I’m visiting my parents on the south coast, and Jay is camping, alone. Ruth is flying out to Austin today, to visit her cowboy, but sometime, she’ll have to find out. All of our friends will. We can’t keep this a secret forever. I want a life with Jay. I want him today, tomorrow, and always, and I’m terrified of what will happen when that tomorrow comes and she finds out.
But it’s not tomorrow yet. So, for now, today, we’re in Jay’s Astra, bouncing along a dirt road in the New Forest. The small hatchback is packed to the gills with camping equipment, and he’s more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him with one hand on the wheel, elbow on the door sill, and the other hand on my thigh. He turns to me with the most dazzling smile and my heart—and my ovaries—skips a beat.
He might have been starting secondary school when I was learning to walk. He might have seen some of the most horrific things in his army career. He might be guarded and aloof, putting in endless emotional overtime to adjust to civilian life and overcome the post-traumatic stress following his injuries. But the way this man smiles at me, the way he holds me, the way he makes love to me—the way he loves me—makes me believe it’ll all work out. We’ll get our happy ending.
Fuck, if he keeps smiling at me like that, he’ll be getting a happy ending of his own. Maybe before we even reach the campsite.
Another fifteen minutes later—plus two stags, some wild ponies and a whole flock of geese in the road—Jay pulls the car onto a secluded patch of land hidden by a cluster of towering oak trees, and parks up beside the words plot 37 etched into a large wooden sign. He’s lighter than I’ve ever seen him, with a spring in his step as he rounds the car and opens my door, offering a hand to help me out. He tugs me into him, holding me close and inhaling deeply as he rests his chin atop my head. Dear lord, please let us be this way forever, amen .
With his thumb and forefinger, he tilts my chin up and I meet his eyes a split second before his lips descend, capturing mine in the sweetest kiss. I never imagined Jay Bevan would become the man I can’t live without, but here I am—hopelessly, helplessly, desperately all up in my feels for him, and for the way he kisses me with the kind of reckless abandon I thought only existed in a steamy novel.
“Come on,” he whispers, resting his forehead against mine and tapping me on the hip. “Let’s get the tent up.”
“Are you asking me to help you pitch a tent, Mr Bevan?” I turn and walk towards the open tailgate of the car, swinging my hips as I go. I hear the low groan rumbling from Jay’s chest and I cackle.
“You’ll be the death of me, Keller,” he calls, before following me.
“And you’ll love every second,” I retort. I pull bags and boxes from the car—a cooler of beer, one full of food, my duffel bag, Jay’s backpack, our sleeping bags. I’m reaching in for the tent when Jay grabs me around the waist, pulling me from the vehicle and lifting my off my feet, swinging me around.
“Damn right I will,” he mumbles, burying his face in my throat and nipping lightly at the sensitive skin there. “For every second of my life.”
“So you’ve never camped before.” There’s only the sound of rustling leaves and Jay’s voice, and the rich baritone sends shivers down my spine in spite of the warmth from the fire.
“I don’t think you can call two hours in a tent in my grandparents’ garden in Surrey camping . I ran inside as soon as I got cold. Dad was waiting for me with a cup of hot chocolate. Clearly, he knew I wouldn’t stick it out.”
“Yeah, no. We’re not counting that.”
“Then no, I’ve never camped before.” I squat in front of the fire, holding my hands out and watching the flames cast an orange glow over my fingers. Jay is a few feet away, cautiously keeping his distance. His gaze is fixed on my fingers, head moving as my hands do—like he’s ready to leap into action if I manage to get too close. I pull back instinctively.
“So… you could say I’m popping your camping cherry.”
“If you wanted to, you could say that.” I roll my eyes, biting back a chuckle.
“I like the idea of being your first.” Jay’s voice drops to a quiet rumble, a velvet, seductive sound dripping with innuendo, and it has me clenching my core, rocking on the balls of my feet at the fireside.
“Sorry, love, you’re only about seventeen years too late.” I stand and turn to face him, cocking my hip. I watch as his eyes fix on my lower body, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.
“Seventeen, huh?” I watch as he counts in his head. “Wait—you were fifteen?”
“Don’t say it like it’s so scandalous, love.”
“It fucking is, Princess. You know that’s under-age, right?”
“Arrest me, officer.” I swing my hips as I walk towards him, wrists held together and outstretched. “It was only about four months before I turned sixteen. How old were you?”
“Seventeen, I think.”
“You think?”
“It wasn’t very good. Not exactly worth remembering.” He reaches out to grab my hips.
“Ahh! Stop!” I laugh entirely unseriously as Jay pulls me down into his lap. He’s sprawled in a camping chair beside the fire pit, logs aglow with warm flames. The metal frame of the chair creaks under our combined weight, but after a second, it holds strong. Two tin mugs of hot chocolate sit on the stone ledge beside us, still steaming through a thick layer of melted marshmallow. The air smells like bonfire, cocoa, and toasted sugar, mixed with something earthy and green, and it’s all topped off with hints of Jay’s blue cypress cologne that drives me wild.
“Never,” he insists, wrapping my hair around his fist and using it to tilt my head back. With my throat exposed, he dips his head and feasts, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to my skin. His touch sets my nerve endings alight and I’m on fire, but I shiver as his lips move lower, pushing the wide neckline of my sweater out of the way so he can continue his ministrations on my collarbone. One arm is wrapped around my waist, holding me in place, and the other hand sneaks between my legs, pressing through my leggings.
“Jay,” I whisper. “Babe, wait.”
He lifts his head from my shoulder.
“Anyone could see us.”
“There’s no one around, Princess. It’s just you and me and this wet-as-hell pussy.” He presses another open-mouthed kiss to my throat and I tip my head back, rocking my hips into his hand.
“Say yes,” he breathes against my throat. “Or tell me to stop. I need to hear you say it.”
“Yes,” I gasp. He lifts his head to make eye contact and I pull him into a kiss—one he returns eagerly, shifting in place to adjust his hardening dick. I grind against him, smiling against his lips as a low rumble emanates from his chest. My core makes contact with the hard line of his dick through our layers of clothing and I slip from his lap to the ground, one hand coming to rest over the growing bulge in his jeans.
“Say yes or tell me to stop,” I repeat to him with a smirk. He swallows hard.
“Fuck yes,” he answers. He opens his legs wide enough for me to settle between his knees, and I pop the button on his jeans. He reaches in and frees himself from the restraints of denim and cotton boxers, and my mouth waters in anticipation. So does my pussy.
I clench my thighs as I settle on my knees, leaning forward with my forearms on his thighs. I lick my lips before I take him in my mouth, breathing through my nose as his crown bumps the back of my throat. Not for the first time, I thank god for my complete lack of a gag reflex as I take him as deep as I can.
His head falls back as he shifts his hips towards me, slinking down in the chair. Another low moan leaves his lips and it travels straight to my core. I swear I feel its vibration deep inside me somewhere. Between the exhilaration of sex in a semi-public place and the incredible turn-on of having my gorgeous boyfriend’s enormous dick in my mouth, I’ve soaked right through my underwear and my leggings and I’m just about ready to come, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.
“You look so fucking perfect on your knees,” he murmurs. His head shakes, trembling on straining muscles as he watches me through heavy-lidded eyes. I can barely hear him above the birdsong and the rustling of the leaves. “My pretty little slut on her knees for me.”
Holy fuck. I never thought I’d hear the word slut as a compliment of any kind, but whenever Jay says it, all the blood in my body rushes between my legs, bound and determined to prove him right. I am a little slut. I’m a slut for him and his perfect fucking dick.
I move my head to meet the jerk of Jay’s hips as he rocks against my mouth. My eyes are watering. I run my tongue up and down his length, following the path of the thick vein on the underside of his dick, and I hollow out my cheeks as I suck him even deeper. Saliva collects at the corner of my lips and I wipe it away with a finger before cupping his balls, brushing my thumb over the feather-soft skin. His breath comes in grunts as I play with him, applying just a tiny bit of pressure with my fingers before gripping the base of his dick and following my mouth with my hand.
I can feel my own inner walls fluttering and clenching, my clit throbbing between my legs as Jay moans my name repeatedly. And then he groans a tight, choked ‘ fuck ’ before spilling into my mouth. I swallow, swirling my tongue around his head to collect every last drop. Then, I sit back on my heels and grin up at him indulgently.
“You look awfully smug for someone who hasn’t been fucked yet, Princess,” Jay says after a moment. His eyes are still closed. His head is still tipped back, exposing his Adam’s apple and the vein that runs down the line of his throat, and his breathing is just starting to return to normal.
“How do you know what I look like? Your eyes are closed.” I pat his knee.
“I always know what you look like, Princess.” He opens his eyes and looks directly into mine. “The image of you is burned into my brain. When I close my eyes, you’re all I see.”
Green flag. One hundred boyfriend points. I don't think even the hockey star in the last book I read would say that, and he was the biggest simp alive—I mean, he wore his girl's jersey, for Christ's sake. Okay, so he probably would. But something tells me that kind of romance novel trope is child’s play to Jay. That he would go so much further, if he could.
He reaches for me, pulling me up as he stands. Cocooned in his embrace and a bruising kiss, he walks me a few steps backwards to the nearest tree before spinning me around to face away from him.
“Thoroughly, remember? Hands on the tree, Princess.”
Holy shit. It’s like something out of a book. From the glint in his eye, the calm, quiet rumble of his voice, and the way his dick is still semi-hard, bouncing excitedly over the waistband of his pants, I can tell he’s about to ravage me. And that I’m going to love it. I press my hands and forearms against the tree and spread my legs in an eager invitation. Do your worst, baby. Fuck me until I can’t remember my own name.
He slips his fingers into the pocket of his jeans and retrieves a foil package. I bat his hand away as he moves to tear it open.
“Don’t,” I whisper into the tree bark. “I’m on birth control. I want to feel you.”
My words drag a low rumble from his chest and he tosses the condom packet on the ground. I make a mental note to retrieve it later and save the wildlife from litter and spermicide. His hand wraps around his dick, teasing himself agonisingly slowly as I bare myself to him.
“Come on, soldier,” I goad him. “I’m ready for you.”
He moans again, yanking my leggings to my ankles and then dropping to his knees and pressing his mouth against me. The unexpected action tears a loud gasp from my throat. His mouth is warm on my skin, his tongue always so perfectly rough and gentle all at once. His stubbled chin scrapes at the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, gentle scratches bringing the most pleasurable kind of pain. The more he feasts, the more ready I am for more , shifting my weight and adjusting my stance as my breathing quickens.
And then he stands, dick in hand, leaning over me until his lips brush against the edge of my ear.
“Are you sure, Princess?”
“I’m sure.”
With one hand low on my belly, he guides himself to me, running the head of his dick through my entrance before pushing inside. Then he braces his free hand against the tree, above my head, and bucks his hips against me.
“Holy fuck,” I gasp. With that one thrust, he’s fully seated inside me and deeper than he’s ever been. This angle feels spectacular . He thrusts again, balls slapping against me, and I moan as he slips his hand from my belly down to my clit.
“Fuck, Princess, such a perfect little cunt, all for me,” he gasps, breathless as he pounds into me. Besides our heavy breathing, the only sound is nature herself and skin on skin, until his dick hits the most glorious spot and I scream.
“Look how pretty you are when I’m fucking you.” He bites down on the spot between my neck and shoulder and I gasp, pressing my head back against him and opening the space for him to continue lavishing my skin with his tongue. “Do you want me to come inside you? Do you want me to spill my cum in you like a filthy little princess?”
Holy. Fuck.
“Yes,” I gasp. “Oh, fuck, yes.” He slams his hips against me with reckless abandon.
“You like that, Princess?” He thrusts again, harder this time. He’s hitting a spot I never knew existed and it’s making me crazy. I can’t see. I can’t breathe. My entire body exists only for him. I can only rock my hips back and forth, meeting each thrust with an intensity I didn’t know I had in me. All it takes is one press of his thumb and I clench around him, coming with a yell. I’m trembling, my head resting against the rough bark, as he continues to slam into me, grunting and moaning with every thrust. His hand continues its work between my legs, even as I come down from my orgasm.
“Fuck,” he grunts. “ Fuck, Princess, fuck.”
And then he stiffens, his movements pausing for just a second before he spills into me and tips me over the edge for a second time. I come with another cry, falling limply against the tree trunk as my second orgasm crashes over me.
God, the way this man fucks me is out of this world.
He presses his chest against my back, falling against me and caging me against the tree with his arms. I’m surrounded by Jay , and it’s the safest I’ve ever felt in my life. I could love this man. I could love this man forever. And I might just let myself do it.