Chapter 4
DUFF
Isat on the edge of her sleeping bag, the night air thick and alive around us, and tried to keep my breathing steady.
Stacia had just laid it all out—twenty-three, never been with anyone, this whole trip a rebellion against a life someone else had drawn up for her.
Her voice had gone quiet on that last part, but her eyes didn't waver.
She was looking right at me like I was the next item on her list and she'd already decided to check it off.
The fireflies kept drifting between us, lazy gold sparks in the dark. I could smell honeysuckle and warm skin and the faint creek water scent still clinging to both of us.
I didn't say anything clever. I just reached over, slow enough that she could pull away if she wanted, and cupped the side of her face. My thumb brushed her cheekbone. She leaned in.
Our first kiss was careful—soft and a little uncertain on her end.
Then her hands moved. She slid one up my chest, the other down my side, bold as hell.
I was surprised by how quickly she did it, how sure she seemed.
I let her. Hell, I wanted her to. Her fingers traced the waistband of my shorts, and my body answered before my brain caught up.
I groaned against her mouth and deepened the kiss, tasting the faint salt of her sweat.
My hands finally moved too. I cupped her breast through the thin tank top—full, soft, the nipple already tight under my palm.
I rolled it gently between my fingers until she made a little sound that went straight to my cock.
Then I slid my other hand down her stomach, under the waistband of those ridiculous thin shorts.
No panties underneath. Just smooth, warm skin and then the slick heat of her.
"Jesus, Stacia," I muttered against her lips.
She was soaked. My fingers parted her folds, gliding over her clit before sliding lower. She was hot, already clenching around the tip of one finger as I tested how ready she was.
She broke the kiss, breathing hard. "I'm on birth control," she whispered. "I've been on it for months. Just…in case."
I nodded, forehead resting against hers. "I'm clean. Got tested two months ago. Haven't been with anyone since."
Her answer was to push me backward onto the sleeping bag.
I let her. She swung a leg over and straddled my hips, looking down at me like she'd been waiting years for this moment instead of hours.
Then she peeled the tank top off and reached back to unhook her bra. Both went flying somewhere behind her.
Her breasts were perfect—round and heavy, nipples dark and peaked. They bounced as she wiggled out of her shorts, and the sight of her like that, topless under the stars, hit me like a punch. My cock throbbed painfully against my shorts. I wanted to worship every inch of her.
"This is on my list," she said, voice husky. "I'm all in. No regrets. No half-measures."
She straddled me, completely naked. The sight of her bare pussy glistening in the faint starlight made my mouth go dry.
She reached for my shorts, fingers working the button. I caught her wrist.
"Come here," I said, voice rough.
I guided her up my body until her knees were on either side of my head. She hovered there, uncertain for half a second, then lowered herself when I tugged her hips down.
I licked her folds, savoring the taste of her, then circled her clit with the flat of my tongue. She gasped. I slid one finger inside her—snug, so fucking snug—and curled it while I sucked gently on her clit.
Stacia's head fell back. She rode my face in tiny, helpless movements, soft cries mixing with the cicadas. I added a second finger, stroking her steadily, and felt her start to tremble.
When she came, it was beautiful—body arching, thighs shaking around my ears, a long broken moan spilling out into the night. I kept licking her through it until she was whimpering.
She slid down my body, trembling, eyes wild.
Without a word, she yanked my shorts and underwear down.
My cock sprang free, hard and aching. She wrapped her hand around it first, then leaned down and took me into her mouth—warm, wet, eager.
Her tongue swirled around the head while she sucked, and I had to grip the sleeping bag to keep from thrusting up into her throat.
"Stacia—fuck—slow down," I groaned. I sat up enough to pull my shirt off over my head, then gently eased her off me. "Not yet. I want to be inside you when I come."
I helped her straddle me again, this time with my cock nestled against her slick folds. "Go slow, baby," I said, voice low and rough. "Take what feels good. I've got you."
She reached down between us, her fingers brushing my shaft as she lined me up.
The head of my cock pressed against her entrance—hot, wet, impossibly tight.
She sank down the first inch and hissed, a sharp little sound that made my hips jerk before I could stop them.
I felt her stretch around me, the slick heat of her gripping just the tip like a fist. Her thighs trembled on either side of my hips.
"Touch yourself," I told her, sliding my hands up her sides to steady her. "Right there on your clit. That's it. Good girl."
She did. One hand stayed between her legs, rubbing slow circles over her swollen clit while the other moved up to cup her own breast, pinching the nipple.
The sight of her—completely naked under the mountain stars, sweat glistening on her collarbones and between her breasts—undid something in me.
Every time she breathed, they rose and fell, bouncing gently as she worked herself down another inch.
Her lips parted on a soft, broken whimper.
"Fuck, Stacia… look at you," I murmured, thumbs stroking her hips. "So beautiful taking my cock like that. You're doing perfect."
Another inch. She gasped, head tipping back, and I felt her inner walls flutter and clench around me. The heat of her was unreal—velvet and fire, so wet I could hear the faint, slick sound of her sliding down me. She took another inch, then paused, breathing hard.
"Easy," I coaxed, one hand leaving her hip to brush her clit alongside her own fingers. "Breathe. You feel so fucking good. Let me in, baby. That's it."
She sank the rest of the way in one slow glide. When her ass finally settled flush against my thighs, we both groaned—hers high and shaky, mine deep in my chest.
She was seated fully on me now, every thick inch buried inside her. I could feel her pulsing around me, the way her pussy fluttered and squeezed like it was trying to pull me even deeper.
Then she started moving. Slow rolls of her hips at first, testing, learning. Her breasts bounced with each motion, nipples peaked and flushed, and I wanted them in my mouth.
The sight of her riding me—naked, glowing with sweat, one hand still frantically rubbing her clit while the other kneaded her breast—would be burned into my brain forever.
She made these soft, needy noises every time she sank back down—little gasps that turned into moans when I thrust up to meet her.
"Like that?" I asked, voice strained. "Yeah? Ride me, Stacia. Take what you need."
She grew bolder. Her hips rolled faster, deeper, grinding down hard on every stroke. Her tits bounced heavier now, swaying with each thrust. The wet sounds of her pussy taking me filled the clearing—filthy and perfect under the cicadas.
She started whimpering my name between breaths—"Duff… oh God, Duff"—her voice cracking higher each time.
When her second orgasm hit, it crashed through her like a wave.
Her whole body seized up. Her pussy massaged my cock in rhythmic, powerful pulses, squeezing me so hard I saw stars.
She cried out, loud and raw, head thrown back, breasts heaving as she shook apart on top of me.
I felt every flutter, every ripple of her walls milking me.
That was all it took.
My own orgasm slammed into me hard. Heat coiled tight at the base of my spine, then exploded outward. I buried myself as deep as I could go, hips snapping up once, twice, holding her down on me while I came in thick, pulsing jets inside her.
I groaned her name—low, guttural, almost broken—as each spurt flooded her, the sensation of her still clenching and fluttering around me dragging it out longer, sharper, until I was shaking underneath her.
My vision whited out for a second. All I could feel was her tight, wet heat squeezing every last drop from me, her body trembling in the aftershocks of her own release.
Stacia collapsed onto my chest, both of us slick with sweat and breathing hard. I wrapped my arms around her, one hand stroking slowly down her bare back. The night air had cooled just enough that it felt good on our overheated skin, the fireflies still drifting above us like quiet witnesses.
We didn't talk. Didn't move to the tent. After a while, she shifted off me and turned onto her side, and I followed—curling around her back, arm across her waist, pulling her in. She fit against me like she'd always been there.
I fell asleep with her warm back against my chest, thinking this was the first time in years something had felt completely right.