Sunrise Fires (25 page)

His arm tightened behind me and pulled me even closer into him, his other arm drawing around me. He kissed my forehead. His heart pumped in my ear. My own heart thudded in my chest, and together we breathed each other in. I dozed off again to the sound of his body and the feeling of him entangled in me. If only life were always this simple.

*   *   *

The canopy came alive a few hours later and dragged the veil of slumber grudgingly from around us. I felt like someone ripped my cocoon off far too soon. I looked at Ryan’s chin, his jaw, his scruff. I smiled and scratched it like I’d seen him do so many times. He smiled and grabbed my hand. “Morning.” His voice rumbled with the gravel of unused vocal chords. He kissed my palm. I gushed emotionally and physically; I didn’t think my panties would ever stop being wet until I was out of his company.

“Hi, love,” I stretched, “it seems like somebody wants us up.” The cacophony outside seemed as if the birds had descended specifically on our campsite.

He chuckled. “We should get up anyway, I suppose.” But instead of moving toward getting out the sleeping bag, he turned toward me, pulling me into him, and grinding his hips into me. “Or else we might not get up at all.” His cock was as awake as the birds outside, and I pictured the damp growing circle of pre-cum that was likely marking his underwear.

I kissed him, biting his lower lip. “Do we have to? Would staying in this beautiful bed for a little longer be that bad?” I gave him the softest weakest ingénue eyes that I could muster.

He traced the side of my body, his hand settling on my hip, gripping it. He gave me a playful shake. My breasts jiggled, rubbing against the inside of my thin sheer bra, nipples instantly protruded, reaching toward him, becoming obvious even through the bra and T-shirt. His jaw tightened as the movement caught his eye. He looked from my breasts to my face and back again, swallowing, his nostrils flaring. I traced up my own side over his hand that still held my hip along my ribs, and finally coming to rest on one of my breasts, wrapping my fingers under the weight of it to calm the tingle and using my thumb to soothe the tense nipple. I slid my hand slowly between us across to the other breast to do the same. His lips fell open as his hand came away from my hip and snuck under the bottom of my T-shirt. He moistened his lips with a thick wet tongue and leaned in to kiss me.

His hand crawled up my ribs, indecisive, as his kiss lingered slowly savored on my lips. I felt loved, cradled by his arm behind my back and the warmth of his body in front of me. His lips teased and played but did not push. And when I tried to lean in, insistent, he pulled slightly away. Still his hand crept. My skin tingled, there was a band of electricity wrapped around my arms and across my chest. Every nerve reached for him, begged for his touch, stretched out as if climbing to the surface just to be nearer to him. At last, his fingers reach my bra line, solid wire creating a barrier that meant he had to actively make a decision. I’d have preferred if he could have stumbled onto my breast and rode the passion into our oblivion. His thumb lifted the wire slightly and then traced the soft skin underneath, nearing my armpit and then nearing my sternum. His fingers stroked the line of my bra and along my ribs below it. I broke away from the kiss to let a pleading gasp escape my lips. I turned my face away from him, toward the pillow, and pushed my neck in his direction, arching my back to give him more of me.

“Fuck,” he whispered, barely audible. His hand slid behind me and drew me fully up against his chest, his fingers deftly unclasping my bra. His hand raced back to my chest, palm flat, chasing up my ribs to the now loose underwire. And finally, he was there, squeezing, massaging, stroking my breast as his mouth at my neck drew another moan from me. He kissed down my neck to my collarbone, stopping to kiss or bite the places he had so long ignored. I wanted my shirt off. I wanted him now. His hand was not enough. I wanted his mouth on my breast, licking the tender line where the breast transitions to ribs, sucking the rounded swell at the sides and bottom, grazing the nipple. And still his hand massaged. He rolled my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Yes,” I breathed. My body undulated involuntarily toward him, pressing into him, grinding against him. I was nearly breathless as he raised his wrist enough to move my shirt up and off my breast allowing his kisses to continue their downward trek. I held my breath; he exhaled a hot plume of expectation onto my eraser-tipped breast. I bit my lip, slid my hand into his hair, and pulled him closer. A hardened warm wet tongue flicked my nipple. “Ah!” It came out as sharp as if someone had slapped me. I pressed my lips together, holding my breath, allowing the anticipation to course through me. I whispered, “Please, baby…Fuck, I need you. I need you, Ryan. Stop teasing me.” Both hands were on the back of his head, his ears rested on my wrists. “Please do what I know you want to.”

He was squared up and level to my chest and clearly distracted by what he saw there. But he looked up into my eyes, holding his breath, and then exhaling slowly, his hand moved ever so slightly before his head did, and for the next few minutes, I was lost in oblivion. His mouth and hands kissed, licked, sucked, and teased my chest, neck, arms, and face. Clothes were a blur as they piled up to the side of us. His skin contacting mine was a new experience, each point of contact celebrated more than the last, bringing me to a state of ecstasy and anticipation that I’d never before known.

He grinded against my thigh, his cock rigid and dripping profusely, lubricating along his grind line and making me wonder if he would cum before we even had sex. Our bodies bucked and banged against each other, moans and heavy breathing intermingled, hands racing to rediscover parts long since visited. As his palm passed over my mound, I froze and parted my legs, tilting my hips in his favor. He gripped my pubic bone, the heel of his hand grounding me to the earth, his fingers poised to send me to the heavens. I was soaking wet, and I knew he could feel it, even now, without delving into my hot pool of sweet juice. I rode his palm, grinding my pubic bone further into his hand. He met me pulse for pulse, pushing harder against me and giving me something stable to grind against. His fingers warmed my engorged lips but waited to enter me. Instead, he let them tap and slap against me as I bucked against him.

“Mmmmm…” I moaned, nearly whining, bucking ever faster against his hand. My moans came faster and louder. I felt desperate for the orgasm that was hidden under his fingers. I was nearly screaming, my fingers scratching into his skin as I gripped and pulled him into me. His middle finger slid easily into my slit and could have disappeared all the way inside me, except that he chose to trace the soft line of my swollen pink lips, sliding and drawing small circles and shapes along the slick surface as he forged upward. He stopped before giving my clit the attention I was screaming for. My voice joined the birds in waking the forest that morning. “Oh. Oh. Ohhhh. Yess, yes…” I held him even closer, parted my legs even wider, tilted my hips even more toward his hand. And again he parted my lips, dipping three fingers all the way into my pussy. Deeply and solidly, he thrust them; over and over he pushed into me. My legs quivered before the orgasm fully struck, and then his thumb joined the rhythm, flicking across my clit each time his fingers were buried in my sopping wet pussy. I couldn’t wait any longer. “Yes. Ahhh. Fuck. Mmmmm. Goddddd! Yessss!” I screamed and shook and rocked against his hand as I shattered and disappeared.

The world ceased to exist in that moment. There was nothing but me and this feeling of bliss…and of nothingness. I could not tell how long it lasted nor how loud I was nor if he was enjoying it or not. I couldn’t think about any of that. I couldn’t think at all. I only cared that he keep doing what he was doing and let me stay here, lost in this abyss.

The crescendo slowly waned, and his hand slowed. Tears wet the corners of my eyes. My mouth was dry and my throat suddenly sore. “Mmmm.” My eyes were wide, and that vocalization was all I could muster, though it sounded harsh and gravelly. I tried to wet my mouth and lips with a parchment tongue. My throat seized in a sandy swallowing motion. I coughed and gasped for breath. Closing my mouth again, I wiggled my tongue, willing wetness to alleviate my inability to communicate. “Mmmm.” The warmth of bliss settled over me as I began to realize my surroundings again. I sidled into Ryan’s chest, seeking the reassurance that his presence and stability gave.

He smiled at me, tracing a thin cold wet line up from my pussy to my belly button before bringing his hand to his mouth. It was open, waiting, but first, he inhaled deeply. “Damn, baby, I have missed the smell of you.” He sucked his fingers one at a time, pausing after the first to say, “And the taste of you.” He smirked knowingly at me.

Finally, I was on earth again, and realizing what had happened, I returned his smirk with a nod. My mouth watered watching him. Finally, I could swallow comfortably again. I drew his hand from his mouth, kissing him briefly before licking and sucking one of his fingers clean. As I drew his finger into my mouth, he tried to pull back, but I had a firm hold of his hand and didn’t release it. Instead my eyes bore into his, and my tongue swirled around the left and right side of his finger before tickling the length of it, paying particular attention to trace the outline of his fingerprint. My free hand reached down and stroked his cock in time with my tongue’s motions. He groaned and rolled onto me. His kiss was nearly forceful, hungry, insistent.

As he settled between my legs, I instantly wanted to cum again. I tilted my hips and pushed them toward him, loving the feeling of his rock hard cock squeezed between our bodies. He reached down between us and lifted my leg, putting my knee on his shoulder and leaning against my hamstring. Instantly, his hand was again between us. He slid his hand up my sloppy wet pussy on his way to grabbing his cock. He dragged its tip once roughly through my slit, from the clit to where he wanted it, hovering just outside my warm wet hole. He stayed poised for less than a second, his eyes locking mine, before thrusting into me fully, all the way to the hilt in the first thrust. And from that moment, he was relentless.

He stared into my eyes while he thrust into me over and over again. Each thrust coming more forcefully and faster than the last. His arms and neck flexed and released as he fucked me. God he felt good inside me. He kissed me, nuzzled my neck, and sucked my breasts. “Fuck, Jen. Your pussy is so fucking tight.” All I could reply was a slight nod and a smile. My breath was coming in rasps, and my pulse raced as he bit my jugular and thrust into me again. He pulled my other leg up to his shoulder, and he knelt upright, pulling me toward him, his thumb alternated between stroking my clit and joining his cock at the entrance of my pussy, sliding back and forth lubricated by our sex. The veins stood out on his neck as he strained, and his jaw clenched and relaxed.

His nostrils flared. He bit his lip. And still his cock plunged deeper into me. “Yes, Ryan, that feels so fucking good, baby.” I put my hands beside my hips and felt his thighs slam into me, strong and unyielding. He slid one leg off his shoulder and held the other up. My entire body turned, and I slid the released leg under him, between his legs. He grabbed my thigh and pulled me onto him harder and harder. He leaned forward, my knee nearly in my face, his cock fully inside me with every thrust. I reached between us and stroked his balls, gently squeezing and releasing, feeling them swell. With my other hand on his shoulder, I pulled him further onto me and into me. Moaning and whining, each thrust took me higher. He held my leg tightly and reached a fever pace. His balls seized in my hand, I gently coaxed them one last time before my hand stole away to my engorged clit. I barely touched it before my body rocked over and over again in wave after wave of ecstasy. His cum spurted again and again all over the inside walls of my pussy; he came so forcibly that I could feel it. Hot streams of cum endlessly poured into me.

We gradually slowed our pace until he collapsed beside me, and we drew the sleeping bags around us again. I don’t think we said a word as sleep dragged us back under.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I
n the days that followed the Zzyzx camping trip, I got ready for my trip to London. It felt different than recent trips had. I was on edge as I packed. Ryan felt distant, our relationship felt like it was in jeopardy, I could not focus on the task at hand. The ghosts of Germany loomed over me as I checked in at the airport. I called Ryan as I sat at the gate, waiting to board.

“Hey, you,” he answered cheerfully. “Not going? Can’t bear to be away from me, can you?” He laughed.

“Ha!” I replied, wondering how he was taking things so lightly. “I’m at the gate, waiting for boarding.”

“Ahhh. What’s up?”

“Just thinking of you. And of us.”

“And what are you thinking about me and us?”

“About what a great time we had this past weekend.”

“Mmmmhhmmmm….”

“And about how much I love you.”

“Amazing thoughts to be having,” he spoke in a singsong way.

“What are you up to?”

“Just got off work, early in fact, and I’m heading over to my mother’s to check up on her. It was a great day at work actually.”

I smiled. His joy was infectious. “I am so glad to hear that, love. I didn’t really have anything cool or important to say. Just that I love you, and I hope I’ll see you very shortly after I return in ten days.” It was an obvious baiting comment, fishing for him to alleviate my fears. I felt foolish just as soon as I’d said it.

“It won’t be soon enough, that’s for sure. Have a safe trip, babe. I’m pulling up at my mom’s, so I’m gonna let you go. Knock ’em dead, like you always do.”

I snorted through my nose. “Like I always do. Thanks for saying it, hun. Tell your mother I said hi.”

“I will.” And he was gone. I briefly jumped to the moment in Germany when I held the phone and prayed for him to still be there, on my knees, breathless with shock, the pit of my stomach and endless black hole of fears realized. I felt sick. My heart pounded in my chest, and my eyes burned. How had we come to this place? Why hadn’t I listened to Jackie and Talia and my own heart tugging me in his direction? I had been so proud and so fearful at the same time. Too proud to reach for him, for fear that he’d truly abandoned me. I shook my head.
Stop it. Stop doing this shit, Jen. Go to London, handle your responsibilities and handle this trip the way you now wish you had handled Germany.
It doesn’t seem such a hard thing to do. I knew that this trip was a measure of closure for me, a miniature reliving of a nightmare, a way of beginning over again.