Chapter Eight #3
The words sent heat straight through me. I backed him toward one of the larger rocks, limestone that had been worn smooth by centuries of weather. “Then worship me.”
He pushed me down onto the stone, the surface warm against my back.
Morning sunlight filtered through oak leaves, painting patterns on our skin as he kneeled between my legs.
The contrast of his golden hair against the weathered limestone and green foliage around us looked like something from a painting come to life.
His hands worked at my belt, movements quick but not rushed. Everything felt deliberate, purposeful, like he'd been thinking about this as much as I had. When he got my jeans open, I lifted my hips to help him work them down my legs.
“Commando?” He grinned, taking in my naked body.
“Seemed optimistic this morning.”
“I like optimistic.”
He leaned down and kissed my hipbone, then traced a line down my inner thigh with his tongue. The sensation made me gasp, my good hand fisting in his hair.
“Dusty—”
“Let me take care of you.” His breath was warm against my skin. “Let me show you what your body can feel when it's not fighting everything.”
His mouth found me then, hot and wet and perfect.
The first touch of his tongue made my back arch off the stone, a groan escaping me that echoed through the trees.
The sound of the stream masked everything else—our breathing, the small sounds he made as he worked me over, the way I couldn't help but whisper his name.
“God, yes,” I groaned, my fingers threading through his hair. “Just like that.”
He took me deeper, humming around me in a way that sent vibrations through my entire body. My shoulder didn't hurt. My head wasn't spinning with worst-case scenarios. There was just this, sun and stone and Dusty's mouth making me forget everything except how fucking good it was to be alive.
When I was close—too close—I tugged at his hair. “Stop. I want...”
He pulled off, lips shiny and swollen. “What do you want?”
“You. Inside me. Here.”
His eyes darkened as he met mine, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face.
He reached for his hiking pack, digging through it until he pulled out a small first aid kit.
He flipped it open, rifling through bandages and antiseptic wipes until his fingers closed around what he was looking for: a small tube of petroleum jelly.
“Seriously?” I couldn't help laughing.
“Multi-purpose.” He twisted the cap off with his teeth, that feral grin never leaving his face. “Works for chapped lips, dry skin... and other emergencies.”
He set the tube on the rock beside me, then stood to undo his jeans. The sound of his zipper was obscene against the background of rustling leaves and flowing water.
I flipped onto my stomach, the stone warm against my chest and belly. Behind me, I heard the sound of his jeans hitting the ground as he stepped out of them, standing naked in the dappled sunlight.
His hands were gentle but sure as he prepared me, fingers slick and patient as he worked me open. The sensation was intense, not just physical but overwhelming, anchoring me in my body in a way the pills never could.
“More,” I gasped when he added a second finger.
“You sure?”
“I'm sure. I need all of you.”
When he pressed into me, the stretch was perfect, that edge of almost too much that made every nerve sing. I braced myself on my forearm, letting him set the pace as he sank deeper.
“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he groaned, voice strained with the effort of going slow.
“Move,” I demanded. “I'm not made of glass.”
He pulled back and thrust forward, hitting that spot inside me that made stars burst behind my eyelids. The rhythm he set was deep and steady, each stroke deliberate and devastating.
The stone beneath me was solid, real, anchoring me to this moment while he took me apart with precision. One of his hands splayed across my lower back, the other braced beside my shoulder. I could hear his breathing, rough and uneven, matching the pace of his hips.
This wasn't just about proving my body worked or getting off or even escaping the withdrawal for a while.
This was Dusty choosing to see me at my absolute worst, hostile and panicking and falling apart, and staying anyway.
This was him trusting me with his own pain, his own fears about his father and his future.
This was both of us being brave enough to stop hiding.
“Fuck, Cord,” he gasped against my shoulder, voice ragged as he rolled his hips deeper. “Been watching you all day, wanting to get my hands on you like this.”
I pushed back against him, taking him deeper, loving the stretch and fullness. “Been wanting this since we got here,” I admitted, my voice breaking as he hit that perfect spot. “Needed to feel something besides pain.”
His rhythm intensified, one hand sliding down to grip my hip. “Tell me how it feels now,” he demanded, voice low and rough against my ear.
“Like fucking heaven,” I groaned, my body arching as he angled just right. “Like my body's mine again. Don't stop—right there.”
He sped up then, his control slipping as much as mine.
The sound of skin against skin mingled with the sound of water over stone.
My orgasm hit like lightning, pleasure shooting through every nerve ending as I spilled over my hand and onto the smooth stone.
My body clenched around him, pulling him deeper, and he followed me over the edge with a hoarse cry that echoed through the oak trees.
We stayed like that for long moments, both breathing hard, his body covering mine like a blanket. The morning sun was warm on our skin, the sound of the stream constant and soothing.
He pulled out and helped me turn over. I was boneless, satisfied in a way that went deeper than physical release.
“How do you feel?” he asked, using his discarded t-shirt to clean us both.
“Like I just remembered I have a body that can feel good things.” I stretched, feeling muscles I'd forgotten existed. “Like maybe I'm not broken after all.”
He kissed me then, soft and sweet, tasting like satisfaction and something more I wasn't ready to name. “We should probably head back.”
“Probably.” But I made no move to get up, content to lie there on the limestone with him beside me, the endorphins buzzing through my system better than any pill.
“Cord?”
“Yeah?”
“You're going to be okay, you know that?”
“Yeah.” And for the first time in months, I believed it. “I think I might be.”
The sunlight had strengthened to that bright midday intensity that made everything look sharper, more defined.
After twenty minutes or so we gathered our clothes and headed back down the trail, and neither of us complained about the delay.
The walk back was quiet but comfortable, our bodies loose and sated, the tension that had been building for days released.
When the cabin came into view, I realized I wasn't dreading the rest of the day.
For the first time since we'd arrived, I felt like I could handle whatever came next.
Not because I had everything figured out, but because my body remembered what it was like to feel good again.
The endorphin high wouldn't last forever, but right now, with my blood humming in my veins and Dusty's steady presence beside me, that was okay.
I could face tomorrow when it came. For now, this was enough.