Chapter 12 #2
The sleeping bags are zipped together into one large cocoon, spread over thermal mats that block the cave floor's chill.
We collapse onto them together, heat and friction building as we shed the last barriers between us.
Sierra's breasts fit perfectly in my hands, the weight of them satisfying as I palm them, thumbs circling her nipples until they tighten into hard peaks.
She arches into my touch, head falling back, throat exposed.
I take advantage, kissing down the column of her neck, tasting the salt of her skin.
Her pulse hammers beneath my lips, rapid and strong.
When I close my mouth around one nipple, she gasps my name, fingers threading through my hair and gripping tight.
I work the sensitive flesh with my tongue, alternating between gentle suction and teasing flicks that make her squirm beneath me.
"Chris." My name is a plea and a command. "Please."
"Not yet." I move to her other breast, lavishing attention there while my hand trails down her stomach. Her muscles quiver under my touch, jumping as I trace patterns across her heated skin. "Want to make you ready."
"I'm ready." She spreads her thighs, making room for me between them. The scent of her arousal hits me, musky and intoxicating. "I've been ready since you tried to kill me with that snare trap."
The admission makes desire spike through me, hot and urgent. I slide my hand between her legs and find her slick and wanting, wetness coating my fingers. She moans when I stroke through her folds, hips bucking into my touch.
"So wet for me," I murmur against her breast.
"Your fault." She rocks against my hand, seeking more pressure. "Chris, please."
I work her with steady pressure, circling and teasing her swollen center, watching her face as pleasure builds.
Her eyes flutter closed, lips parted, breath coming in short bursts.
Stunning and undone. The sight of her losing control sends a surge of possessive need through my veins. Mine. At least for tonight, she's mine.
When I slide two fingers inside her, she cries out, inner muscles clenching around me. Hot and tight, her body gripping me. I pump slowly, curling my fingers to stroke that spot deep inside that makes her writhe. Her hips lift off the sleeping bag, grinding against my palm.
"There," she gasps. "Right there, don't stop."
I don't. I work her higher, adding my thumb to circle her swollen bud while my fingers drive deeper, faster.
Her hands scramble for purchase on my shoulders, nails digging crescents into my skin.
The sting only feeds my hunger. I want her marks on me.
Want proof this happened, that she wanted me as desperately as I want her.
Her walls start to flutter around my fingers, tightening in warning. "Chris, I'm—"
"Not yet." I slow my movements, keeping her on the edge. "Want you to come on my cock, not my fingers."
She whimpers in frustration, vulnerable and needy. "Then get inside me."
"I want inside you." My voice comes out rough, barely controlled. "Want to feel you come around me. Want to watch your face when you fall apart."
"Yes." She pulls me up, kissing me hard, tasting herself on my lips. "Now. Need you now."
I position myself at her entrance, the head of my cock sliding through her wetness. The sensation makes my vision swim. So hot. So ready for me. "Tell me if I hurt you."
"You won't." Her legs wrap around my hips, heels pressing into my lower back, opening herself completely. The movement tilts her pelvis, making penetration deeper. "Stop being careful and just—"
I slide into her in one smooth thrust, cutting off her words with a cry that echoes through the cave.
She's slick and welcoming, her body yielding to mine.
Every nerve ending in my cock fires at once, pleasure so intense it steals my breath.
I freeze, giving her time to adjust, fighting the primal urge to move.
Nothing but pleasure on her face—pupils blown wide, lips swollen from my kisses, a flush spreading down her throat to her breasts. Her inner muscles ripple around me, adjusting to my size.
Sierra's nails rake down my back, leaving burning trails. "Move."
I do. Slow at first, controlled strokes that let me feel every inch of her wrapped around me.
The drag of her tight channel along my shaft sends electricity racing up my spine.
She's so damn wet, easing my way, her body yielding and welcoming.
The sounds are obscene—wet flesh meeting flesh, her gasps, my rough breathing.
She meets me thrust for thrust, hips rolling in a rhythm that threatens my control.
The sleeping bag rustles beneath us, the scent of sex thick in the enclosed space.
Each withdrawal leaves me aching for the next plunge.
Each thrust seats me deeper, her heat surrounding me completely, gripping me from base to tip.
"Harder," Sierra demands, and I lose the last threads of restraint.
I drive into her with focused intensity, angling to hit that spot deep inside that makes her gasp my name.
The new angle lets me go deeper, hitting places that make her whole body jerk.
Her nails score my shoulders as she clings to me, legs locked around my waist, heels digging into my ass to pull me deeper still.
"That's it." I drop my head to her neck, tasting salt and heat, the wild flutter of her pulse. My teeth graze her throat, not quite biting. "Let me hear you."
She does. Moans and gasps and broken syllables that might be my name.
The sounds shoot straight through my control, making me thrust harder, faster.
I watch her face, memorizing the way pleasure transforms her features—lips parted, eyes half-closed, that fierce expression softened into something raw.
Her responses feed my hunger, drive me harder.
Sweat slicks our bodies despite the cold air. The cave amplifies every sound—the slap of flesh, her cries, my grunts. Primal and raw.
"Chris." Her walls start to pulse around me, tightening in waves that grip my cock. "I'm close."
"Come for me." I shift the angle slightly, grinding against her swollen center with each stroke, hitting deeper. My pelvis rubs against her with every thrust, adding friction where she needs it most. "Let go, Sierra. I've got you."
She shatters with a cry that fills the cave, her body arching under mine as the orgasm crashes through her. Her sex clamps down on me in rhythmic pulses, milking my cock, drawing me so deep I see stars. The sensation of her coming around me is exquisite—hot pulsing contractions that squeeze me.
The sight of her face transfixed in pleasure, body trembling beneath mine, her sex convulsing around me—it drags me over the edge with her.
I bury myself to the hilt as my own climax hits, her name torn from my throat, body shaking with the force of it.
My cock jerks inside her, spilling deep, marking her from the inside.
Nothing exists beyond this moment—her body wrapped around mine, our hearts hammering together, pleasure so intense it borders on pain. I thrust through the aftershocks, shallow movements that prolong our mutual release, unwilling to let it end.
Finally, I still, buried deep inside her, both of us trembling and panting.
The cave's cold air creeps back in, cooling the sweat on our skin, but the heat between us doesn't fade.
I pull out carefully and she whimpers at the loss.
I roll to my side, gathering her against me so her injured shoulder stays protected.
The bandage shows a fresh spot of crimson—we'll need to change it again—but her expression holds no regret.
Sierra's hand traces lazy patterns on my chest, fingertips following old scars. "I'm not sorry."
"Good." I catch her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Neither am I."
She shifts to look at me, her expression serious despite the flush still coloring her skin. "Chris, whatever happens tomorrow—"
"Don't." The fear rises swift and sharp. "Don't say it."
"I have to." Her fingers find mine, lacing together. "We both know the odds. Armed men, hostile terrain, and we're outnumbered. One of us might not—"
"No." The word comes out harsh. I pull her closer, as if proximity can keep her safe. "I just found you, Sierra. I'm not losing you now."
"Then we don't lose." Her voice carries absolute conviction. "We fight, and we win, and we build something on the other side of this."
Build something. The concept feels foreign and fragile, like speaking a language I've forgotten. "I haven't let anyone close in so long." The admission costs me, but she deserves the truth. "Didn't think I deserved it. Everyone I care about ends up hurt or dead or—"
"Stop." She cups my face, forcing me to meet her eyes. "You deserve everything, Chris Calder. And I'm going to make sure you get it."
The certainty in her voice makes my throat tight. "Promise?"
"Promise." She kisses me softly. "We survive tomorrow.
We expose Healy and whoever else is behind this corruption.
We get justice for your men and everyone else they've destroyed.
And then?" A smile curves her lips. "Then we figure out what normal people do when they're not running for their lives. "
"I don't remember normal."
"Neither do I." Her thumb strokes my cheekbone. "We'll learn together."
We lie tangled in the sleeping bag, making silent vows in the flickering lantern light. Survival. Justice. A future neither of us expected to want. Sierra's breathing eventually evens out, her body relaxing into sleep despite the danger waiting beyond the cave entrance.
I stay awake, one hand on the pistol beside our makeshift bed, the other wrapped around the woman who's somehow become my reason to survive this. The darkness outside the cave is absolute, the kind of black that only exists in the mountains far from civilization.
Hours pass. I count them by the lantern's dimming light, by the shift in Sierra's breathing, by the way the cold intensifies in the deep hours before dawn.
Just before the first hint of gray touches the eastern sky, Sierra stirs against me, consciousness returning in slow increments. I press a kiss to her temple, savoring this last moment of peace.
"When this is over," I whisper, "I'm taking you to meet my sister."
Sierra's smile is drowsy and warm. "I'd like that."
She nestles closer, and I memorize the feel of her—the weight of her head on my shoulder, the softness of her skin, the steady rhythm of her breathing. This moment. This woman. Everything I have to protect.
The wind shifts outside, carrying a new sound that makes every muscle in my body lock.
Engines.
Sierra hears it too, her body going taut against mine. We don't speak. Don't move. Just listen as the sound grows louder, multiple vehicles approaching from the valley below.
Too early. They're coming too early. The failsafe hasn't triggered yet—we're at least an hour short of the two-hour deadline.
And with them, the first snowflakes of a new storm begin to fall, obscuring the trail we spent yesterday defending. Erasing our advantages. Leveling the playing field in ways that make my tactical mind race through contingencies and backup plans.
Sierra's hand finds mine under the sleeping bag. Her grip is strong and steady, her jaw set with the same grim determination I feel.
"Showtime," she murmurs.
I kiss her once more—hard and fierce and full of everything I can't say. Then we're moving, pulling on layers and gear, checking weapons with the smooth efficiency of soldiers who've done this too many times. The intimate bubble of the cave shatters, replaced by the cold calculation of survival.
The engines are closer now. Maybe fifteen minutes out.
Sierra takes position at the cave entrance, pistol ready. I move to the secondary exit, counting my ammunition one more time. Eighteen rounds in the pistol. Thirty in the rifle. One spare magazine, and a knife.
Enough to do damage. Maybe not enough to win.
Through the falling snow, I catch the first glimpse of headlights winding up the mountain road. Three vehicles. No, four. More than we expected. More than we planned for.
Sierra looks back at me, her expression grim and calculating. We're outgunned and outmanned, but we're going to fight anyway because surrender isn't in either of our vocabularies.
The snow falls harder, thick flakes that will make targeting difficult. That will cover tracks and muffle sound and turn this mountain into a winter hellscape.
Perfect conditions for ghosts.
I rack a round into the rifle chamber, the metallic sound sharp in the pre-dawn quiet. "Time to haunt some bastards."