Chapter 11 #2
She laughs and looks around the clearing. White-capped mountains shimmer in the distance, and a bird swoops overhead and screeches something at us. A beam of sunlight bathes Cassie’s hair in golden light, while patches of snow sprawl out in the shady spots like glittery pillows of ice.
Very cold, glittery pillows. We’re supposed to lie down on one of those?
I have a better idea.
I bend down and scoop Cassie into my arms. She yelps but twines her fingers behind my neck, nuzzling against my chest like she belongs there. “Where are we going?”
“I’m giving you a chance to perform an up-close-and-personal inspection of the Pinus contorta,” I tell her.
She giggles as I carry her over to the lodgepole pine she admired.
There’s a patch of snow beside it that looks like the wind piled it up there.
It’s smooth and pristine, maybe ten feet long and five feet wide with a pillow-like surface unmarred by footprints.
I set her down in it and watch her sink past her ankles in tall boots.
I let go to adjust my glasses, but Cassie keeps her fingers twined together behind my neck. She pulls me down for a kiss and I go willingly, tunneling my hands under her winter parka. She takes a step back so her back’s against the tree trunk. Breaking the kiss, she smiles up at me.
“We’re in the snow,” she says, “so you should probably be in me.”
“That can be arranged.”
We fumble a little with our clothes. She drops one red glove in the snow as she yanks at my belt buckle. I burrow my hands under her sweater, touching her through a thermal undershirt. I’m hungry for bare flesh, but my fingertips are icy, so I don’t dare graze her naked belly.
Our boots crunch in the snow as we kiss and touch and expose the least amount of skin possible while accessing all the vital parts. Cassie draws back, her breath coming fast in visible little puffs that seem to hover in the frozen air.
“I want you.” The air around us is arctic, but there’s fire in Cassie’s eyes.
I want her, too. More than I did the first time, or the second, or the third. How is that possible?
“Let me.” I tug at the button on her jeans. I haven’t thought it through completely, how this will all work. I just know I need to be inside her. That I’m desperate to feel her again.
That urgency gives me pause. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want Cassie Michaels. Not just her body, but her mind. Her personality. Her whole self.
That scares the ever-loving hell out of me.
But I can’t think of that right now with her hand sliding into my jeans. Her fingers wrap around my shaft, and I give a soft groan of pleasure when she strokes the full length of me.
I bury my face in her neck, breathing her in, devouring every spot of flesh not covered by wool or nylon or down.
“Simon?”
“Mmmhmm?”
“I didn’t want to mention this before, because it’s not like we know each other all that well—”
Oh, God, oh, God, where is this going…
“—but the thing is, I’m on the pill. And, um—well, I went in for my annual exam only a month ago and got a clean bill of health. I know we’ve been using condoms, but if you’ve been checked recently and know about your status, maybe we could—”
I draw back, trying to process her words as she trails off and waits for me to fill in the blanks. Or fill in something else.
My brain is fuzzy from all the touching we’ve been doing, and it takes a moment for her meaning to sink in. When it finally hits me, I feel my cock surge against her palm. I swallow hard and look into her eyes.
“I had my yearly physical three weeks ago,” I tell her slowly. “I always have them do an STI panel. I could pull up the results on my phone if you—”
“It’s okay, I trust you.”
I feel a sharp pinch of guilt in my abdomen, and it has nothing to do with STIs.
I’m not lying about that, but I haven’t exactly been forthcoming about who I am.
The companies, the money, the huge house, the private jet.
I open my mouth to tell her, but she cuts me off with a kiss.
Her fingers are still wrapped around my dick, and my brain goes to mush again.
I kiss her back, hard and wet and deep as Cassie keeps stroking me.
Her words are still echoing in my head while I breathe in the honeyed scent of her hair.
Dizzy with need, I kiss her back hard and deep.
I’ve never felt such a rush of anticipation.
Are we really going to do this? Am I really going to be inside Cassie with nothing between us?
“Yes,” she whispers as she leans up to nibble my earlobe, though I haven’t even asked the question out loud. It’s like she’s reading my mind, which is fucking terrifying.
But terror isn’t the dominant emotion right now. Lust is. Desire. As I slide my fingers into Cassie’s jeans and between her legs, I’m hit with a powerful surge of it. She’s slick and soft and hot, and I want her so badly that I ache all over.
“Okay,” she says, and presses a hand to my chest. I’m not sure what she has in mind at first. She gives me a mischievous smile, then turns around and wriggles her jeans down over her hips.
They slide to mid-thigh, baring her lush, beautiful ass to the chilly air.
I place a palm on each cheek, wanting to touch her almost as much as I want to be inside her.
Cassie leans forward against the tree and braces herself on her forearms. Then she shoots me a look over her shoulder. A look that says, ‘fuck me,’ even though she hasn’t uttered a word.
I don’t need a verbal invitation. I shove my jeans down in front, letting my cock spring free into the chilly forest air. I breathe in and out, savoring the pine-laced breeze and this breathless moment of anticipation. These frozen seconds before I slide inside her with nothing at all between us.
“Please, Simon. I want you so much.”
Those words nearly send me to my knees.
But that’s not where I need to be right now. I position the head of my cock at her opening and slowly ease inside. She’s still looking at me over her shoulder, and I watch her eyes go wide. A soft moan fills the air, and I’m not certain if it’s her or me.
As I ease inside, I wonder if this feels different to her, too. Part of me assumed this was just a concession to my pleasure, but watching the look on her face as I move condom-free inside her makes me realize it’s different for both of us.
“You feel so fucking good,” I groan as I slide all the way in. She’s tight around me, hot and wet.
She grinds her hips back into me, taking me in as deep as she can. “So do you.”
I pull back and then slip in again, feeling the pressure building already. Too soon. I want to savor this. The first time being bare inside her with the walls of her sex so snug and slick. Cassie closes her eyes, and I know she’s doing the same thing.
“Harder,” she whispers. She lets go of the tree with one hand, and I watch her fingers move to the front of her body.
But this time, I want to be the one stroking her. I want to be the one who makes her come. “Let me,” I whisper against her neck.
I take one hand off her hips and slip the first two fingers in my mouth. It’s partly to warm them, partly to make sure they’re slick enough to glide just right.
The second I touch her clit, she bucks against me.
“Oh God, Simon! Don’t stop.”
I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m pounding her harder now, stroking her tight little bud with soft, butterfly strokes of my fingertips.
The second she tenses around me, I know she’s close.
It’s sooner than I wanted, but I doubt I could hold out much longer anyway.
Not with Cassie clenched this snug and hot around me.
“That’s it, baby,” I growl. “I want to feel you come. Just like this.”
The familiar cry starts in her throat, so different from the muffled one at the club. Her sex squeezes around me, and that’s all it takes. All I need to tip me over the edge.
We come together in a hot, wet burst of light and frozen air and the muffled crunch of snow under our boots.
Or is that the crunch of tires?
It dawns on me that the buzz in my head isn’t my brain exploding, but the hum of an approaching engine. Cassie hears it the same moment I do, and her eyes go wide. We spring apart like teenagers caught groping in a movie theater, fumbling fast with buttons and zippers and layers.
I’ve just gotten my belt buckled when a mint-green truck pulls up behind Cassie’s. The US Forest Service logo is emblazoned on a door that swings wide open to reveal a middle-aged guy in a khaki uniform and a green parka.
“Afternoon.” He tips his hat to both of us, but his eyes are on Cassie. “Everything okay, here, ma’am?”
Cassie nods, looking dazed and flushed. It dawns on me the guy is trying to determine if he’s stumbled upon a sexual assault in progress. I feel a wave of gratitude, even as I hope like hell the guy gets back in his truck and takes off.
No such luck.
He takes a step closer, studying us both a little too intently for my comfort. “We’ve had a rash of poaching in this area recently,” he said. “Deer hunters. I don’t suppose either of you has a gun?”
Is it my imagination, or did his eyes just drop to the front of my jeans? I’m pretty sure I got my pants zipped, but my hard-on hasn’t fully subsided. I shift a little so Cassie is in front of me and clear my throat.
“No, sir,” I tell him. “No firearms of any kind.”
“Good. That’s good.” He looks around like he’s trying to figure out why two people would be up here in the middle of nowhere in February with their hair disheveled and the scent of sex in the air. I have no idea if what we’ve just done is illegal, but I’d rather not find out.
“We have a permit,” Cassie says.
My brain is still filled with sex, and I turn to look at Cassie with surprise. There’s a permit for outdoor sex?
“For native plant collection,” Cassie continues. “The permit’s in the truck.”
“You’re collecting plants in the middle of winter?” The ranger gives her a skeptical look. “In the snow?”
“It’s the perfect time.” Her voice is surprisingly breezy, or maybe it’s just a contrast to my own racing pulse. “Everything’s gone dormant this time of year, so it’s much easier to transplant.”
The Forest Service guy frowns, probably wondering why we don’t have any tools, but Cassie continues with her story. “We’re scouting for a few good specimens before we start digging,” she says. “Ceanothus velutinus, Arctostaphylos patula—that’s snowbrush and greenleaf manzanita.”
“Uh-huh.” The guy nods slowly, and I can’t tell if he’s buying it.
I pat the tree trunk next to us and try to look casual. “We were just admiring the Pinus—uh—”
“Pinus contorta,” Cassie supplies, shooting me a look that suggests I should probably shut up. “Obviously, this one’s a little big.”
“Quite large,” says the Forest Service guy, folding his arms over his chest.
“Right,” Cassie says. “We’re not digging it up or anything. Just admiring the specimen.”
“Admiring the specimen.” He looks at us for a few more beats, and I could swear he’s smiling a little under that moustache. “So, that’s what the kids call it these days?”
I clear my throat. “Yes, sir.”
With a sharp little laugh, he turns on his heel and stalks back to his truck. “Just be careful out here,” he says. “Wouldn’t want you getting eaten by wild animals.”
I watch him go, stifling the urge to laugh. “Too late, officer,” I murmur as the truck door slams and Cassie dissolves into giggles.