30. Extreme Camping
Extreme Camping
We pull up to the next location with bellies full of wings, soft pretzels, and other bar food. I chose not to drink because I’m driving, but Ash had a beer as well.
“What are we doing out here?” Ash asks.
I brought him to the lot leading to the little spot in the woods where we stood and watched the sunrise together. This place was his and his father’s, but now it feels a little bit like mine, too.
“This is a safe place for you. A safe place for us. I couldn’t imagine crafting the perfect date for you and not coming here to watch the sunrise.”
I jump out of the car before I can see his reaction. I hate that I still act like a spooked horse around him, ready to flee at the first sign of danger.
But at least I’m trying, right? I’m making more of an effort than I ever have, and that has to count for something.
Despite my best effort to skip past that moment of vulnerability by grabbing the heavy backpack from the back, Ash catches up to me quickly and envelopes me in a bear hug too warm to resist. “You do realize it’s winter, right?
I never really saw you as the extreme camping type.
Watching the sunrise implies we’re spending the night, Goldilocks. ”
I huff an annoyed breath. “I’m literally a Fire witch, Ash. Do you really expect me to let us freeze?”
He holds his hands up in surrender with a laugh. “Fair point, fair point. Lead the way.”
I shoot him one more glare and step into the forest. Even though I’ve only been here twice, I hold my head high and pointedly put one foot in front of the other, making my way in the direction I think his favorite spot is located.
He quietly redirects me three times before we enter the clearing.
A soft layer of snow covers the ground, but it’s not actively falling and the moon hangs full tonight. A cloudless sky opens before us.
I unpack the thick blanket and tarp from the backpack slung over my shoulder and lay them out. We may not get cold, but that doesn’t mean a little extra effort isn’t needed to keep us dry.
“I see you, Goldilocks,” Ash says as he gets a small fire going. “You’ve got walls around you the size of skyscrapers, but there’s a soft heart behind them.”
I don’t reply.
I don’t want to snap at him, to tell him he’s wrong or give him my usual safe response of fuck off.
Everyone else gives up on me pretty easily. I say about three to five mean-as-shit things and they back off. Write me off as a bitch and leave me alone.
Not Ash.
Ash has always seen my sarcastic mean-girl act as exactly what it is—bullshit. He poked and prodded at me, but he never pushed me too far. He let me come to him.
Just like now. He doesn’t need me to respond, nor does he expect me to. He just . . . accepts that I don’t know what to say and leaves it at that.
I lie back on the blanket, focusing on enhancing the heat of the fire. Ash and I are encased in a bubble of warmth in the middle of the cold winter evening.
“I really do appreciate this. My dad did his best for birthdays and holidays, but as a single parent he didn’t always have the most time. It’s been a while since I’ve had someone go to this much effort for me.”
I lace our fingers together as we look up at the starry sky.
“What do you want out of life, Laura?” Ash asks softly. “What’s your dream?”
I shiver, but it’s not from the cold. “No one has ever asked me that before.”
“I’m asking you now.”
“I like to sew. I like fashion, accessories specifically. I used to dream about escaping to Paris, but now I think I’d just be happy to make them. I don’t know how realistic that is, though.”
“If I know anything about you, it’s that you can do absolutely anything you set your mind to.”
“What do you want your life to look like in ten years?” I ask. I blush immediately. Talking about dreams and the future makes me want to know where his mind is at, too.
“Ten years, huh?” He scratches at his beard with his other hand. “I’ll be thirty-seven at that point. Jesus.”
“You’re so fucking old.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles. “I want to put an addition on the back of the house. Knock down the wall to the kitchen, add a breakfast nook, and an extra bedroom or two. I want a dog, maybe more if I’m honest, to keep me company in the woods while I work.
I’d like to expand the business a bit, although I’m not exactly sure how yet.
I want us to be married, maybe have a kid. Maybe not.”
My heart leaps into my throat, pounding like a freight train. “Married, hmm?”
I think the scariest part is that I like the sound of it, the picture he’s created of our future together. I can see us in the soft mornings in a breakfast nook, with Belle at my feet and some dogs running around. I’ve always liked animals.
“Gonna make an honest woman out of you at some point. I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you a million times—you’re it for me.”
“Ash?”
He turns to me, letting me sink into the deep emerald-green pools of his eyes. “Yeah?”
How do I explain everything that I feel for him? Everything that he does for me?
Hazel never wanted to be my surrogate mother, she never chose me. She was forced into it because she loves me and she knew I deserved better. But that wasn’t fair to her.
But Ash? Ash chooses me every single day. He chose me before I even entertained the fact that I would choose him back. He’s never made me question where we stand, what he wants from me.
He loves me. Me. The bitchy, prickly person who pushes everyone else away.
I have no words for this. So I kiss him instead. Press love and devotion and safety into a kiss that hopefully tells him everything I can’t.
I roll on top of him, straddling his hips and pressing more and more desperate kisses to his lips until he sits up, cradling my face in his large hands.
“What can I do for you? What do you need?” he asks, breathless.
The answer is simple. “You.”
All I will ever need is Ash Cedar. Even if I can’t tell him that yet.
He slows my frenzy, takes over with that quiet, soft dominance that allows me to fully surrender to him. He doesn’t take my submission, he coaxes it. Draws it out slowly and naturally until I’m relaxed. At peace.
He presses biting kisses to my neck, leaving little trails of beard burn in his wake. “Every single part of you is my obsession.”
His hands tear at my jacket, frustration with my layers taking overtaking his calm, cool demeanor.
“I can’t always be naked,” I huff a laugh, helping him remove my clothes.
He chuckles back, thumbing my nipples into sensitive points. “You should be.”
Any reply is lost on my tongue as he sucks one stiff peak into his mouth. Any thoughts devolve into a mindless need for more as I grind into his lap.
“These are perfect,” he says, palming my breast in his large hand. “Absolutely fucking perfect.”
I whine and he moves to the other nipple, sucking hard until I know I’m making a mess of the white lace thong I chose for tonight.
I had a feeling we’d end up fucking in the woods, and I wanted to be prepared.
“Please, more.” I scratch my nails along his scalp, soft black hair moving between my fingers.
He nods, moving his attention to getting my jeans off as quickly as he can. He lays me down gently on the blanket as he rips them and my socks and shoes away.
I’m almost completely bare beneath him, while he’s still fully clothed, and the dichotomy should not be as hot as it is.
“Just fucking look at you,” he growls, hands trailing along my thighs and opening me up to his gaze. “Fucking look at how drenched you are, how beyond beautiful you are. And you’re all mine.”
I preen under his praise, pushing my chest out and spreading my legs a little bit wider just to hear his groan.
“That’s it. Show me exactly how perfect you are.”
His fingers trail along the lacy edge of my thong, almost dipping to where I really want them but always shifting at the last second. A gentle tease that has me gasping for breath. Whining and pleading.
He shushes me kindly, finally removing the fabric and throwing it into the pile of clothes behind him.
The patience has left his eyes as he stares at the wetness dripping from me. It’s always in this moment that he loses control. When he sees what he wants and can’t keep himself from taking it.
He’s told me in post-intimate moments that I taste like melted marshmallows and brown sugar and home. That he’s addicted to the taste of me.
I squirm, lifting my foot up to push him forward. Anything to get him to move.
It’s all the invitation he needs. He dives in, tongue making quick work of lifting me so high I can barely make a sound. He’s gotten so good at this—insists on doing it every single time we fuck.
I haven’t gotten my mouth on him yet because we’re usually both so wound up after that the desire to have him inside me is too important. But not today.
No, not for his Christmas present. Tonight, I have plans for him.
He presses two fingers inside, reaching that special spot as he curves them forward making my entire back bow underneath him.
“Sometimes I think about finger-fucking you with my ring on,” he says, lifting his opposite hand and showing me his house crest. “Would you like that? Show me how much you’d like that.”
I grab his hair, pushing him back down. Under the direct flicking pressure of his tongue on my clit and his fingers inside me, my head flies back as I cum.
It takes minutes to regain my sanity. To breathe normally after the waves of satisfaction that still send little aftershocks through my body.
He sucks his fingers into his mouth, gathering every last taste of me. “God, I need to be inside you.”
I shake my head, hand coming to rest on his chest. “No. No, lie down.”
He cocks his head but does what I ask.
Slowly, I remove his clothing. I take everything until he’s as bare as I am, moonlight shining on his soft skin. I love him like this. Relaxed, responsibilities left at home. Under the moonlight and trees.
I trail my fingers along his thick, corded thighs, the hair tickling just a little. “You haven’t let me take care of you. I’d like to.”
He closes his eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath that speaks of desperation. “You’re going to kill me, woman.”
“That’s not a no, but it’s not a yes, either. May I?” I lower my head, a hairsbreadth away from the small bead of pre-cum at the very tip of his length.
“Whatever you want. I’m yours.”
“Have you thought about it? What I’d look like with my lips stretched around your cock?”
He groans again, hands fisted at his sides. “I’ve thought about you in every single way imaginable. But I know whatever I’ve imagined will never be as good as the real thing.”
I shrug. “True.”
And with that, I swallow him down to the back of my throat. I haven’t done this in a while, so I breathe and swallow through the spasms. I pull back, trailing a thick vein on the underside with my tongue.
“Fucking hell. You look so goddamn good.”
I put his hands in my hair, encourage him to get a good hold as I suckle at the mushroom head.
“Okay, okay. Fuck. Stop,” he breathes, pushing me back after maybe a couple more deep pulls.
I glance up at him, my lips brushing against the tip. “What?”
“While I would love to paint those pretty lips in cum,” he says, rising over me like a predator. “What I need tonight is us.”
He holds my hands above my head, positioning himself right at my entrance.
“What I need—” he slides home in one smooth, perfect thrust “—is this.”
I love you, Ash Cedar. The thought comes unbidden to my mind as it expands, as it encompasses both of us and our passion and love.
Tears spring to my eyes, but I don’t want him to stop. I don’t want him to ever stop.
I wrap my legs around him and encourage him to show me just how much my love is returned. Even though I’m not ready to say it aloud.
Even though I may never be ready to say it.