5. 5
"That's the Big Dipper." Brandon lay back and held out his arm, and I curled against him, listening to the water touching the shore while his hand moved lazily along my arm. There was a tent behind us, but for now we were content to just lay out on the ground close to the fire.
I followed his finger. "No, it isn't."
"Yes, it is."
"That's seven random stars."
"That's literally what a constellation is."
"I thought you said you hated camping."
"I hate sleeping on the ground. I never said I didn't know things."
I laughed and rolled onto my side. "Name another one."
Brandon stared upward for several seconds. "Orion."
"Where?"
"Up there."
"Very specific."
"It's behind the trees."
"Convenient."
He turned his head toward me, trying not to smile. "Do you want me to make something up?"
"I think that's what you've been doing."
"Fine. That one is Zoe."
"There's a constellation named Zoe?"
"There is now."
I followed his gaze toward a bright cluster above the mountains. "What's it supposed to be?"
"A pain in the ass."
I smacked his chest, and he caught my wrist before I could do it again, laughing as he pulled me against him.
"Asshole."
"See? Incredibly accurate."
I kissed him mostly to shut him up, although I forgot about that excuse almost immediately when his laughter disappeared against my mouth and his arm tightened around my waist. The kiss was warm and familiar, easy in a way nothing else had been this weekend, and when Brandon rolled toward me I went willingly, slipping my hand beneath his shirt and feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my palm.
For once, I didn't wonder where Victor was.
Brandon and I were alone beneath the stars, and I let myself enjoy the simplicity of that as Brandon kissed me again.
There was no guilt in touching him, no reason to hesitate or wonder what anything meant.
This was my boyfriend, the man whose body I knew almost as well as my own, and when his hand slipped beneath my sweatshirt I smiled against his mouth.
"Thought you wanted to look at the stars."
"I can multitask."
"Apparently."
His mouth moved along my neck, finding the spot that always made me squirm, and I closed my eyes as the pleasant warmth began spreading through me.
Brandon knew exactly what I liked. He knew where to touch me, how long to linger, when to tease, and normally that familiarity made being with him effortless.
It felt good.
It just wasn't exciting.
The distinction bothered me enough that I kissed him harder, pulling him closer and trying to lose myself in the familiar weight of his body.
Nothing was wrong. My body responded to him, warmth building gradually as his kisses moved lower, but there was a predictability to it now that I had never noticed before.
I knew what he would do next. I knew how it would feel.
Even when pleasure made my breath catch, some part of me remained outside it, waiting for something that never quite arrived.
Brandon kissed down my body with the kind of familiarity that came from two years together. His mouth was warm against my stomach, my hip, the inside of my thigh. He knew my body, knew the map of what I liked, and he took his time getting where he was going.
When he finally settled between my legs, I was already wet from the buildup, wanting this to be good.
He started gentle, the way he always did, his tongue making slow passes through my folds.
He was good at this. He listened to my breathing, adjusted when I shifted, worked with a focus that I knew was him trying to make me happy.
I arched into him, my fingers finding his hair, holding him there.
It felt nice. It felt like us, like the comfortable rhythm we had built.
His tongue trailed up my swollen folds to my clit, circling it with careful pressure.
He was good at this, listening to my breathing, adjusting when I shifted.
I made sounds for him, wanting him to know I was enjoying it, wanting to encourage him because I could feel him trying so hard.
My body responded in the ways it was supposed to.
My hips lifted to meet his mouth, and I felt the soft give of my lips against his chin and nose as he settled in.
My breathing quickened. I could feel the pleasure building, that familiar climb toward the edge.
But it stayed just out of reach, hovering at a level that was pleasant but not consuming, like background music that never quite became a song.
The affection in every careful movement he made was a stark contrast to the raw need I remembered from the shower.
I wanted this to work. I wanted to cum for him, to show him that I loved him, that I wanted him.
Brandon sensed it. He redoubled his efforts, his tongue moving faster, his hands gripping my hips with more urgency.
He was working so hard, giving me everything he had, and I hated myself for not being able to meet him there.
I made more sounds, louder ones, trying to fake my way over the edge or will my body into genuine response.
"Baby," I breathed.
He moaned against me, the vibration sending a shiver through my pelvis, and for a moment I thought I might get there.
I felt the pleasure spike, my muscles tensing, and I chased it, desperate to catch it.
But it slipped away again, settling back into that plateau of pleasant sensation that never quite tipped over the edge.
I was going to have to fake it. Or just let him keep working until my body finally gave in from sheer persistence.
I hated both options. I wanted to feel what I was supposed to feel with the man I loved, but all I could think about was the mechanical way his tongue moved, the predictable rhythm, and how different it was from the overwhelming presence of his father.
Then I opened my eyes.
Something moved beyond Brandon.
At first I thought it was a branch shifting in the breeze. The fire had burned down to glowing embers, leaving most of the clearing dark, and the cabin beyond it was little more than a black shape against the trees. I stared into the darkness until the shape moved again.
My fingers tightened in Brandon's hair.
Victor.
He stood near the edge of the clearing, far enough away that Brandon couldn't possibly hear him. I couldn't see his face clearly, but I didn't need to. I knew it was him.
Heat shot through me so suddenly that I sucked in a breath, a jolt that started in my clit and spread like wildfire through my veins.
Brandon, mistaking the reaction for something he'd done, doubled his efforts with renewed confidence, his tongue working me with a new urgency.
I tried to focus on him, on the wet heat of his mouth, but my eyes had drifted to the trees.
The pleasant warmth that had been hovering just out of reach suddenly ignited into something sharp.
My cunt clenched, a deep, pulling ache that made my inner walls spasm.
My body responded with a ferocity that shocked me, my hips bucking upward, grinding against Brandon's mouth as a sound tore from my throat that was raw and involuntary.
My nipples pebbled into tight, aching points, and every nerve ending felt scraped raw, exposed, and hungry.
Oh God. Victor was watching us.
Anger came almost as quickly as the excitement, a hot, acidic surge that burned through the arousal.
My jaw clenched, my teeth grinding together.
After everything he'd done, after spending an entire day pretending nothing had happened between us, he was standing in the darkness spying on me with his son.
The muscles in my thighs went rigid, and my hands, which had been soft in Brandon's hair, tightened into fists, pulling at his strands.
The heat in my blood didn't dissipate; it curdled, turning from sharp desire into something bitter and resentful.
Fine. Let him fucking watch.
I reached for Brandon, yanking him up from between my thighs.
I crushed my mouth to his, a brutal, claiming kiss.
I could taste myself on his tongue, salt, musk, and my own slick arousal, and the taste was fuel.
I didn't care. I wanted him closer, wanted all of him, and when I shifted above him Brandon grinned up at me.
"Well, hello."
"Shut up."
I grabbed the hem of my sweatshirt and ripped it over my head, the cool night air pebbling my nipples into tight, aching points.
I fisted Brandon's hair, pulling his head down, guiding his mouth to one breast. "Suck me, please.
" It was more a demand than a plea, but it didn't matter to Brandon.
He obeyed instantly, his mouth hot and wet, his tongue swirling around the peak before he sucked hard.
My head fell back, and over his shoulder, my eyes found the trees.
Victor.
His presence was a physical blow, a jolt of electricity that shot straight to my clit. My back arched, pushing my breast deeper into Brandon's mouth. I ground down against his lap, the rough denim of his jeans and the hard line of his cock creating a friction that was almost painful. Almost.
I pushed him back, rolling him onto the sleeping bag.
My hands shook as I dug through the pocket, finding the foil packet and tearing it open with my teeth.
Brandon watched me with glassy eyes, his chest heaving, his cock hard and waiting.
I fumbled the condom, my clumsy fingers almost tearing it, and squeezed him too tightly as I rolled it down. He hissed, a sharp intake of breath.
"Sorry."
"It's fine," he gasped. "Just… please."
But I wasn't waiting for his permission.
I had already positioned myself above him, and as he looked up at me, I slammed down onto his shaft in one, swift movement.
The force of it stole his breath, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as our pelvises met with a hard, brutal smack.
The impact sent a jolt through my own body, my cunt clenching hard around Brandon's cock.