CHAPTER 55
Finn
Perfect.
That’s what she said. She thinks Yosemite Ranch is perfect. And since I’m part of the ranch, does she think I’m perfect, too?
I look over at her pretty face lifted to the sunshine, her hair whipping behind her in the wind, and I can’t help but feel Emma’s holding something back from me.
What we’ve been doing together goes beyond sex and squarely into intimacy.
I know her—what she tastes like on my tongue, the look in her eyes when she’s about to cum all over me, the whimpers she sometimes makes in her sleep.
I can’t deny that I have feelings for her. I think it’s the same for her. But that doesn’t change the fact that overall, she’s still unknown to me.
That she’s not telling me the whole story.
I turn the SUV off the main road from town onto a dirt road just beyond the ranch’s gate. Emma remains silent, staring out the window as I go about forty along the rough vehicle trail through the wilderness. We bounce and shake our way north.
She doesn’t ask where I’m taking her because she trusts me.
I’m not sure what to do about that, since she’s not the only mystery.
I haven’t been completely honest with her either. In Emma’s mind, I’m perfect. And that’s not anywhere near true.
She knows about Amy, how she died in childbirth. And she knows how it crushed me, left me not knowing what end was up in my life. But I haven’t told her about my culpability in Amy’s death.
She needs to know just how far from perfect I really am.
My guilt has lessened in the last few weeks, absolutely. I don’t feel it twisting in my gut like ground glass the way I used to. In fact, since Emma came into my life, I can go days without feeling crushed by grief and guilt.
It’s one of the many gifts Emma has given me.
I turn off the dirt road onto the meadow that leads out toward Sulphur Springs.
It’s a breathtaking morning. There’s been an unusual cool mist over our neck of the Nevada woods this morning, and with it came a sense of calmness, an understanding that everything’s right with the world.
The mist is dissipating, leaving a flawless, sun-filled sky in its wake.
They talk about the endless skies of Montana, but I’ll take a Nevada sky over Montana’s any time.
Yosemite Ranch is alive with beauty, an unending reminder of how lucky we are to live out our days in this particular spot on the globe.
The land nudges us and whispers that there’s something greater than us, watching over us.
I wonder if the natural beauty of the place has enthralled Emma in the same way it does me. She continues to look out the window, and I wonder if she’s simply enjoying the beautiful surroundings or if she’s got something else on her mind.
Something to do with her mysterious past.
Since she’s focused on the world passing by, I sneak a good hard look at the woman I’ve taken to my bed for over a week.
Her long dark hair is loose, half tucked behind her ears, tendrils escaping around the frame of her face.
I resist touching her, though I’d like nothing more than to let her hair slip through my fingers, then grasp a handful as I pull her close, capturing her mouth with mine.
I need to make her mine again. Now.
I press my foot to the gas pedal, pushing the SUV as fast as it can go in these rough conditions.
There’s a spot she needs to see, and I need to be the one to reveal it to her.
No heads-up about what’s coming. No hints.
I want to watch her discover it. I want to watch her face when she sees it for the first time, standing at my side.
We cross the meadow, and I’m forced to slow down to tackle the rocks in the path. When they turn to boulders, I stop the car. I grab the quilt from the back, jump down, and run to the other side of the SUV to open Emma’s door. I help her out, making sure she doesn't twist an ankle on the rocks.
“What’s that sound?”
“You’ll see in a moment,” I tell her. “Patience.”
I bring the back of her hand to my lips. She reaches up to cup my cheek, looking so sweetly into my eyes that I can’t help but steal a kiss. A quick one. I pull back, excited to show Emma my favorite place on this planet.
With her hand in mine, I lead her up a hill to a spot dotted with sugar and pinon pines. Then I turn her to face the flowing river and hot springs visible from this vantage point, framed in rolling ranch lands and the towering Sierra Nevadas.
She gasps. “This is… whoa. It’s spectacular.” She shields her eyes with a hand. “Finn, wow. What is this place?”
“It’s my spot.” I point down to a clearing along the shore. “That’s where all the brothers hang out together, you know, drinking beer and shooting the shit. And when we were younger, we’d…” I decide to end my sentence there.
“Impress the chicks?”
I laugh. “We tried to, anyway,” I confess. “But that’s ancient history. Here, where we’re standing in this moment, this is my spot. No brothers, beer, or chicks allowed.”
I pull Emma’s back against my front and wrap my arms around her slim body, lowering my lips to her ear.
“I prefer views from above. Not as high as Declan, who’d be happy skimming along the edge of our atmosphere and outer space.
But this height is perfect for me. This particular view.
Out of all the places I’ve been on this Earth, this is what it’s all about for me. ”
“I like your spot, Finn.”
“I’m relieved to hear it.”
“But I should probably point out that I’m a chick.”
“You’re my woman, Emma. Huge difference. And the only one I’ve ever wanted to share it with.”
She spins in my arms and stares up at me with huge, vulnerable eyes.
I touch her hair and stroke the curve of her silky cheek. “If you’ll have me.”
It turns out that she’ll have me.
She wraps her arms around my neck and jumps into my arms. Her legs grip me around my hips and her mouth crashes down on mine.
I press her tight to my body, my hands cupping her ass as I’m wrapped in the warmth of Emma.
Her fresh, light scent envelops me. Her hair falls like a dark satin curtain and brushes the sides of my face.
Every generous and loving touch I feel, every time her lips slip over mine, I am more sure of her, of us. Emma is telling me how she feels. Words aren’t needed.
I feel it too.
With her in my arms, I walk us to the soft bed of pine needles and drop to my knees. I spread the quilt and then lay my precious, beautiful Emma down.
I plan to spread her beneath me. Take my time with her.
That’s what I do. I gently peel off the top and jeans she’s wearing, her sandals, her thong and her bra. Slowly at first, because this is a holy place for me and I plan to do a lot of worshipping here.
Of Emma.
She’s exquisite, her skin a shimmering pale peach in the dappled sunshine. Silky soft. I kiss her everywhere, enjoying the sweet little noises of bliss she makes. My lips brush over her sexy belly, the sensual swell of her hips, the creamy thighs, all the way to her feet.
Then I encourage her onto her belly and begin my tour all over again, touching my tongue and mouth to the smooth strength of her back, the rounded perfection of her ass, the tender place behind her knees.
All the while my hands either lead or follow the path my mouth takes. I feel as if I’m trying to consume her, make her part of me, draw her into my body and heart.
“Your taste drives me crazy,” I tell her, my lips never leaving her warm skin.
Emma is the most precious thing I’ve ever seen, ever tasted.
I have to have more.
I slip my forearm under her belly and lift her from the quilt. I position her on bent knees and press the flat of my hand on her upper back. She turns her cheek to the quilt, her hair tossed below her dark eyes.
So much beauty. All mine.
I let my eyes travel to the female heart of her. She’s wet for me, the puffy lips of her pussy already blossomed in welcome.
I drop down and place my mouth over her sex. She lets out a long, luxurious groan of desire. I grip her ass and make a buffet of her. Licking and sucking and penetrating with my tongue. I want her hot. I want her to be babbling and begging me.
I back off and dive in again.
“Finn!”
She pants. Her hair covers her face as she moves against my mouth.
Perfect.
I unzip my jeans and shove them to my knees. I’m so fucking hard for this woman and this pussy that I can’t see straight.
I pull her up and toward me. I slide home.
She cries out. No need for her to be quiet here. I fuck her hard, rough, holding on to her shoulders, then hips, reveling in how her flesh shakes against me, the dark pink blush of the skin of her back.
She groans and throws her head back. I grab her hair.
“You’re all mine, Emma.”
“I know,” she breathes.
“I have to have this. I have to take you hard.”
She arches against me, cumming harder than I’ve ever felt her cum, crying out through the length of her orgasm. She squeezes me. She takes me with her.
I hear our voices roll across the land, and we collapse together in a heap.