8. Bryn
EIGHT
Bryn
Stetson didn’t stop kissing me as he lifted me clean off the boulder and into his arms.
I wrapped my arms and legs around him, clinging to him, rocking my hips against him. I could feel him so clearly even through my shorts and his boxers…getting harder, big, warm. My t-shirt rode up and his skin was warm too, soaked in May sunlight, his shoulders tensed under my curling fingers.
“No tent,” I mumbled against his lips. “Outside. Blanket—”
He chuckled and carried me toward the blanket he’d spread out by the fire, kneeling before carefully laying me out beneath him. He caged me in with his hands, lowered to one elbow, then slid the other hand under my shirt to cup my breast.
“Talkin’ about my skivvies when you ain’t even wearin’ any,” he rumbled, his Texas accent stronger with his guard down.
“I knew what I wanted.”
“So did I.”
His fingers found my nipple and pinched hard. I arched and moaned, gazing up into the big Texas sky, watching the fireflies dance. He shifted his weight, mouth trailing from my jaw down to my collarbone, and I felt him smile against my skin when I gasped.
"Keep making that sound," he said.
"So bossy."
“You keep sayin’ that, gonna think you like it."
"Maybe I do."
He pulled back just far enough to drag my shirt over my head, tossing it somewhere near the fire. Cool air hit my skin for half a second before his mouth replaced it, closing over one breast while his hand kneaded the other.
I fisted a hand in his hair. He groaned against me, low, and I felt it more than heard it.
"Off," I said. "Boxers. Now."
He sat back on his heels and shoved them down without arguing. Firelight caught every line of him. I forgot what I'd been about to say.
"Somethin' to say?"
"Give me a minute."
"Don't have a minute." He came back over me, forearm braced by my head, other hand hooking into my shorts. "These too. Off."
I lifted my hips. He pulled them down and off in one motion and knelt back to look at me, nothing left between us but firelight.
"Look at you," he said. "Been waitin' all day to get you like this."
"You have not."
“Have too. Since you knocked me over in the damn creek.” His hand slid down my stomach, fingers finding me slick. “Damn, baby…already wet for me, huh?”
“Well, I was in the creek.”
He shook his head, chuckling. “You tryin’ to test my patience?”
“I don’t want you patient.” I rocked my hips up toward him. “Faster.”
“Ask nice.”
“Stetson.”
"That's not askin' nice."
I glared at him, even as I started to lose myself in the rhythm of his fingers thrusting into me. "Please."
"There it is." He gave me what I wanted, fingers curling, thumb finding a rhythm against my clit. "Gonna make you say my name a few more times before I'm done with you. Want you screamin’ it when I’m pounding that pretty pussy.”
“Oh my god—”
“Damn right. Come on, baby.”
I came apart around his hand, his name breaking out of me before I could stop it, the frogs still singing like nothing had changed.
He didn't stop.
"Again," he said.
"Stetson—"
"Said again."
"I can't—"
"You can." He kept his fingers moving, slow now, drawing it back out of me before I'd fully come down from the first one. "One more."
"You're insane."
"You're gonna thank me."
He bent his head and closed his mouth over my nipple at the same time his fingers found their rhythm again, and whatever argument I'd been building collapsed into a moan instead. My hand found his hair. I pulled. He groaned against my skin, low, and didn't slow down.
"Look at me," he said, lifting his head.
I opened my eyes. Found him watching me with nothing gentle in it.
"Stay right there."
My hand snapped up to grip the forearm he was bracing himself with. I curled up toward him, straining. I’d never, ever felt this good—never until I’d had this man’s rough hands on me, his lips curling in a self-satisfied smirk that had me intent on turning the tables after all this.
"You're distracted," he said.
"Because you're insufferable."
"Because I feel good." He curled his fingers again, and whatever comeback I had went straight out of my head. “Somethin’ on your mind?”
“Just how I’m gonna suck you off and make you beg later—oh, Jesus—”
“Promises, promises…”
I came again.
It took me completely by surprise, my body shuddering as my hips jolted into Stetson’s hand. He watched the whole thing, a half-smile on his lips, his fingers pumping faster.
“Fuck yes,” he growled. “Soaking my fingers. Fuck, you’re sexy.”
He didn't wait for me to catch my breath.
He shifted down my body, mouth trailing over my stomach, and settled between my thighs before I could get a word out.
"Stetson—"
"Told you. Not done."
His mouth closed over me and I lost the thread of whatever I'd been about to say. He wasn't gentle about it. One arm banded over my hips, holding me still while his tongue worked exactly where I needed it.
"Look at you," he said, pulling back just far enough to talk. "Fightin' me and beggin' me in the same damn breath."
"I'm not begging."
"Not yet."
He proved his point before I could argue, and I gave up trying. My hands found his hair again, gripping hard enough that he groaned against me, the sound vibrating straight through.
"Stetson."
"Right here."
"I need—"
"Know what you need." He didn't slow down, tongue lashing me. "Gonna give it to you."
I came again with his name breaking out of me, louder this time, the fire snapping somewhere off to the side, the frogs still going like nothing in the world had changed.
He finally moved up my body, settling between my legs, blunt and hard against me. I was so wet that he slipped right into that spot between my thighs, making me groan at the pressure of his cock on my clit.
“You ready for me?”
“Beyond—” I started.
He thrust inside.
I clutched at his back, my legs coming up to wrap around him, my body almost lifting off the blanket just so I could get closer. My nails scraped against his skin, his cock throbbing inside me.
Hadn’t had sex since before everything. I’d been scared to.
But it just felt good.
“You tell me if I’m hurting you,” he said, every word labored and almost broken. “Don’t…wanna hurt you.”
“Give it to me,” I snapped in his ear.
My shoulders found the blanket again.
He gave it to me.
He set a pace that didn't ask permission, one hand braced by my head, the other gripping my hip hard enough to leave marks.
“You feel so damn good,” he said. “Squeezin’ me like that…fuck, Bryn. Fuckin’ hell—”
“Yes…yes…”
He shifted the angle slightly and pounded against my g-spot all of a sudden, making me see stars. I gasped on the inhale, then groaned into the night air, this low and needy sound erupting from my chest entirely against my will.
“Fuck yeah,” he snarled. “You like that, huh? Like my cock in that pretty pussy?”
“Yes—”
“Want me to fuck you until you can’t think straight—”
“Please—”
“Come on my cock, Bryn. Come right fuckin’ now.”
My pussy fluttered and pulsed, and I came on that big, throbbing cock buried inside me. My arms shot down so my hands could fist in the blanket, legs still wrapped around him, Stetson bracing me to get deeper.
“So fuckin’ close,” he said. “Gonna fill you up, baby. Fill you up deep…”
My stupid brain was indeed not thinking straight—because all of a sudden it occurred to me that it was in fact still possible to get pregnant, and I wanted it.
I wanted to try again with that one brave little ovary, and I wanted it with him, with this big man who seemed intent on taking care of me even when I fought him on it—
“Put a baby in me,” I gasped into his ear.
A mistake, right?
…no. Not a mistake.
Because he didn’t even trip over it, his rhythm steady.
“You want a fuckin’ baby?” he asked, breath hot against my neck. “I hear that right?”
“Come inside me—”
“Fuck yes,” he groaned. “Say it again.”
“Give me a baby, Stetson.”
He drove into me harder, this hoarse sound tearing out of him. He was losing it, I could feel it, he was close—
“Fuck, Bryn.” His forehead dropped to mine, a messy kiss passed between us, his tongue in my mouth, my teeth catching his lower lip. “Fuck yes…take it. Take it—”
He buried himself deep—
His hips jolted, and then he was coming; I could feel the heat of him filling me up, spreading through me, right against my cervix.
He stayed there as we both arched and rode out the orgasm, time stretching and curving around us.
I couldn’t tell if I was seeing stars or if they were fireflies, didn’t care.
He rocked his hips once on the aftershock—driving his cum deeper—then let himself collapse on top of me, still buried in my pussy.
I took a shuddering breath, turning to look at him and finding him staring right at me.
“You must think I’m insane,” I murmured.
He lifted his head just enough to kiss me…then he touched my face, cupped my cheek.
“I don’t think you’re insane. I know you are.”
I laughed out loud, the sound echoing off the rocks around us.
He shifted his weight to one forearm, still buried inside me, not in any hurry to move.
"You’re a woman who knows what she wants,” he murmured. “Not gonna say no to that.”
“But if I—”
“Woman’s choice what she does with her baby, with her body,” he said. “If you did…you do what you want. Don’t know you well enough to stake any claim.”
“And if I wanted you to?”
He leaned in to kiss me once. “Fuck, Bryn…if you asked? I’d claim you over…” Twice. “...over…” Another. “...and over again.”