by Lindsey Hart
I arch up against him and lick his earlobe. He shivers and pushes inside me just a little bit more, stretching me wider than I thought was possible. The pain sends some more of that white-hot heat through my veins, and all I can do is make small sounds at the back of my throat and let him take the lead.
He goes impossibly slow until he’s finally fully seated inside me. I can feel all those shivers in my toes again, and I know it’s only a matter of seconds before they creep up my legs, and the world splinters and bursts again. I want to hold on. I want to enjoy this. Part of me can’t believe all it took was a single thrust—just one. Multiple orgasms are a thing I’m unfamiliar with. To me, they were a bit of a unicorn. Like they’re not real and don’t exist.
Adam moves. He shifts his hips, more of a flex than anything. He just moves a little, but it feels like the entire world tilts sideways. I pant. I actually pant because breathing in this situation isn’t possible, and I need oxygen. He flexes again, pushing forward just a little, his massive cock so big that he hits all the spots, because how can he not?
I slowly move, testing my own endurance, testing my limits. I move with him, arching up and rocking with him as he pulls out a little further and fills me again. The tingling now moves up from my toes to my knees. It keeps getting stronger with every movement and every thrust. Some novels mention the coil, as in the coil that uncoils and the spring that winds up before letting go. I can’t say I’ve ever experienced that before, until now, although I’d say it’s more like a knot. A knot of tension. A knot of pleasure. A whole-body knot that, with every thrust, every toe-curling movement, feels like it’s slowly coming undone.
Adam thrusts a little harder and faster, and I’m right there to meet him. Every single long movement works at the knot, and the strings keep coming undone, fraying until Adam thrusts so deep inside me that I finally get the whole oneness saying. The knot snaps free, and the rope springs taut, and suddenly, there’s light, color, sensation, throbbing, aching, soaring, crashing, falling, and it’s everywhere.
I realize I’m screaming something and clawing at Adam’s shoulder, that my hips are pumping with his, rocking and grinding and being so in sync with his thrusts. I realize my body is reacting all on its own while I’m flying somewhere else. The climax is so unexpected, so hard, so hot, so tight, so wild, that I feel like I’m in another dimension. I feel like the grey sky the moment the sun finally bursts into the sky with all its golden splendor, banishing the grey in favor of reds, purples, oranges, pinks, and bronzes…
I shake hard, so hard that the bed is shaking, and Adam shakes with me. He thrusts a few more times, slowly, deeper and deeper, before he lets go and shudders above me. He grunts something next to my ear, not a word, just a sound, and shakes hard as he lets go. Just feeling him come and find his pleasure, knowing it wasn’t that far behind my own, knowing we gave each other that, causes a few more waves of pleasure to wash through me.
I wrap my arms around his neck, and I hold him while we both shake and tremble. He’s still inside me and so freaking hard. We’re connected, both of us. Together. One. Our blood pumping. We’re throbbing together, soaring together, and clinging to each other. Our skin is damp, our hearts pounding so very close together.
My entire skin is covered with goosebumps.
Adam lifts his head and kisses me gently, taking his time. He licks my lips, strokes my tongue, and makes love to my mouth, all while throbbing inside me.
He’s still hard. So crazy hard.
“I…did you…” I trail off, realizing how embarrassing it is that I’m asking that. But he’s so hard. Is it possible to still be that hard if he came?
“Oh yeah.” He grins against my lips. “You have no idea.”
“I think I do,” I giggle. “I know I do.”
He thrusts slowly, gently, awakening every little bit of me again, sending another volley of shivers racing from my toes all the way up my spine, making my belly cold and shivery in the best way.
“Are you okay?”
“I am, I think. I don’t know what I am or where I am right now, but yes, I’m okay.”
“So, it was okay then? Even if it was short?”
“Okay?” I snort. “Oh my god…and short? It doesn’t matter. We have time.”
He groans. His cock pulses inside me, even harder, and he’s not even moving his hips. Without even trying, he can send a thousand shivery sensations floating through me. I know Adam is built like a god, and I know gods are mythical. But I’m starting to think Adam might really be a god with some special powers I don’t know about.
Like, for example, the power to make me climax with a single thrust, the power to turn me into a shivery mass of melted goo with just a single touch, a single kiss, a single caress, and the power to change my entire perception on what is possible with my own body.
He kisses me gently, lingering over my lips. Time, we have time. I said that, and I’ve thought it. It’s true. We have all night, and we have tomorrow. We have the next day, and the next, and the next, which is hard to imagine. It’s crazy to think about it—crazy amazing, crazy awesome, and crazy right.
I have no idea why we didn’t go camping sooner. I guess we weren’t ready, and both of us made a lot of assumptions. That neither of us really knew what we actually wanted.
I know now. There is zero doubt now.
“So, if I shift you, so you’re on top, that would be okay?” Adam asks. He brushes another kiss over my swollen lips.
I could kiss him until my lips fell off, I think. Then probably some more, if it was even physically possible for either of those things to happen.
“Yes,” I say breathlessly. Like I could resist. Like I’d want to resist. “Yes, that would be okay.”
When he does swing me around, I’m ready, and it’s effortless on his part. When he looks at me, I can see the radiant happiness shimmering in his eyes. I’ve never seen him look at anyone like that before. Ever. And I’m sure I’m looking at him the same way.
While it might be scary, I’m not scared right now. I’m not scared because I know myself, and I wouldn’t go for this if I didn’t truly want it. I couldn’t give myself up like this. I wouldn’t want to. But with Adam, I did.
And now, I want more. I want to hold Adam after and be held. I want to wake up throughout the night and give myself up over and over and over again. I want to open up my heart wider and let all of him in.
I want him so much in every way possible.
CHAPTER 18
Adam
I expected that the morning might contain some panic, some second thoughts, and a twinge of conscious guilt. A bit of this and a bit of that jammed into me and stirred together like an actual recipe for disaster. But nope.
I woke up to the length of Steph’s body pressed up against me. So small. She’s so much smaller and so sweet and innocent. We’re both slightly sweaty and sticky since we were naked, and the cabin was warm, and there was no AC. I smoothed Steph’s hair away from her forehead, kissed her there, and watched her eyes flutter open.
We made breakfast together after a leisurely shower together. It turns out we can both fit into that tiny stall. I wouldn’t have bet on it, but we made it work. Oh yeah, we really did.
We ate our bacon and eggs and drank our coffee, and I felt at peace. Content. I felt hopeful.
I suggested a walk since it wasn’t so hot out yet, and slowly meandering through the place with Steph, going absolutely nowhere with no agenda, sounded amazing. Steph had this look on her face when she agreed. It was a good look, a look I’ve never really seen before. And it was like she had nothing to do and nowhere else she’d rather be than walking around doing nothing with me.
“I’m not that excited to go back,” Steph informs me after about half an hour of walking past cabins.
Her much smaller hand is tucked safely into mine, and her bones are so tiny, her skin so soft, that her hand feels almost frail. I don’t kid myself, though. I know she could probably lay me o
ut flat if she ever wanted to. With a nut punch. Or a kick. Steph might come in a small package, but she has this huge heart and all this character. Yeah, I’m a guy and apparently lacking big time in the poetry and romantic description department.
“Really? I thought you’d be pumped to get away from the bugs, the bears, the snakes, the trees, and the fresh air…”
“We’ve really only encountered a few of those, and only one was an issue. The trees and the fresh air are actually okay.”
For some strange reason, I get a mental image of a cabin away from everything, on a small lake, private. A retreat. Our special place.
“So, you’d consider going again? Camping, I mean?”
She turns to the side and gives me a funny look. “Maybe, if we had a cabin. I’m not so sure I’d want to give the tent another try.”
“Fair enough. I’m not sure I’d want to do it either. And thank god we didn’t have to use the ax. Who knew the firewood comes in stacks, already ready for the fire pits? I think it could have been a disaster.”
“Like someone cutting their hand or foot off?”
“I don’t even want to think about it.”
“Maybe next time we should take my car. It’s sensible, has a bigger trunk, more clearance, and I can actually drive it if something happened.”
“Point taken.”
“But I’m not saying get rid of yours. I know you have a strange obsession with it.”
“I don’t have a strange obsession!”
Steph laughs quietly. “I didn’t say unhealthy. I just said it’s strange. Anyone who would bring it camping has a strange obsession.”
“Fair enough.”
Steph becomes quiet, and I know it means she’s thinking hard about something. I want to give her time to process whatever it is, but I’m a guy, so it’s not that I run out of patience, but I do start feeling slightly uncomfortable, thinking there’s something I’ve done wrong, but having no idea what it is, because again, I’m a dude, and dudes can be kind of clueless.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Uh, nothing.”
“I can tell you’re thinking about something. I’ve known you for a long time, and I know your thinking face.”
“I’d hate to think of what other faces you know.”
“None. Just that.”
She rolls her eyes, and I know she doesn’t believe me. Now I’m trying to guess how many faces there are and which ones she doesn’t want me to see. But I’d like to see all of them, all the Steph faces, because I’m sure they’re all stunning. She couldn’t be anything less than beautiful.
“Are you thinking about work? About what people would say? Because I promise, I’ll handle that. We’ll think of a way to tell people. Or not tell them. We could keep our relationship private if that’s what you want. Not secret. But just make it clear it’s off-limits to anyone who wants to talk about it.”
“I think that’s a good idea. But that wasn’t what I was going to say. Thank you for thinking about it, though. Really.”
“What were you going to say?”
“I…I was going to say I didn’t expect to have fun here. That it’s actually nice, I’m happy, and I’m hopeful. I kind of feel like this is a really nice bubble. A really nice moment in time, and I don’t want to leave it. I know that tomorrow, we won’t be here anymore, that we’ll have to go back to our lives—”
“That won’t change anything for me. I know what I said before but let me tell you, I didn’t know what I was talking about. I wasn’t thinking properly. I was taking the easy way out and doing what you said because I was scared. That might sound stupid and shitty.”
“No.” She squeezes my hand. “I understand. I was going to say, though, I know we’ll be fine if we take it slow and try to be fine, and if we work on things and get used to being with each other. Give it some time and people some time to get used to the idea. I’m just sad we have to leave, I guess. I feel like this place is really special now.”
That’ll teach me for jumping ahead and assuming I know what she’s thinking. File that under the category of having to get used to each other. I know we’ve worked together and known each other for a long time, but we haven’t dated before. And we certainly haven’t been intimate before. This is brand new for both of us.
“I could extend our stay.”
“That’s very nice of you,” Steph says quietly. “But I think we do need to go back. You work too hard, though, and I know you’ll need another vacation soon. It doesn’t matter when we leave. We’ll still have to leave, and that’s what makes me sad. It also makes me happy, though, because I want to leave. I want to leave here with you. I want to…I don’t know, start having all these new and different experiences. It will be okay. I know everyone changes and grows, and that’s okay too. I just think it’s kind of crazy that tomorrow, we’ll be a day older and different people, and we can never get it back.”
“Time machine socks. That’s what I need to work on next.”
“Oh, geez. If you could invent those, you’d make billions all over again. Those would be the invention of the century. Can you imagine what a mess that would make if everyone started going back in time and influencing stuff? That would be crazy. Can you even do that, or are there theories out there that everything is set, and you’d just be there to enjoy the ride because the outcome would always be the same?”
“I’m sure there are tons of theories about that, but I thought you didn’t believe in fate. Or in things being predetermined.”
“I don’t.” Steph squeezes my hand again. “Which is why I appreciate this that much more. You, being here right now, being with you, changing our minds, and trying something different. Last night was…”
When I glance over, her face is scarlet, and I can feel mine heating up too. The rest of my body follows, but I refuse to spring yet another hard-on in shorts and in public, and for once, my dick obeys. Last night was indescribable. If I had time machine socks, the first thing I would do is go back to last night. Or maybe fast forward to tonight. It suddenly strikes me that with hard work, patience, and dedication—all those things people talk about as being vital to a successful relationship—with all of that, I’ll get to relieve nights like last night and days like this over and over. I’ll get to create and be a part of them, with Steph.
Why didn’t I feel like this the first time? I never had thoughts like this when I was dating, or even when I knew I was getting married. I didn’t feel like this. Maybe it’s experience and hindsight. Or maybe last time just wasn’t actually how I thought it was. Maybe I was too inexperienced to know the difference. No, I was in love with my ex-wife. It was just a different kind of love. Young, inexperienced for sure, and naïve.
Steph suddenly freezes. She yanks on my hand, and I have this moment of panic that I’m going to have to explain to her why my thoughts temporarily shifted to my ex-wife. I need those moments. Moments where I can analyze what I’m honestly thinking and feeling, and moments where I can change, if necessary, learn from, and grow. I’m a little bit afraid that I’m going to have to explain myself, but then I realize Steph can’t possibly read my mind, and even if she could, she wouldn’t be pissed. She’d think introspection is a good thing.
So there’s another reason she stopped so abruptly that her slight weight nearly pulled me right off my feet, why her hand is gripping mine in a death grip, and why I can literally hear her swallow and feel her heartbeat drumming at an irregular rate against my fingers.
She’s fixated to something in the distance. Something not too far away.
Of course.
I’d forgotten all about the reason I came here in the first place.
Ex-Stephanie.
More specifically, Ex-Stephanie and her new, much younger, personal trainer boyfriend.
The notion of proving myself to her, proving I’m not who she said I was, proving I’ve moved on, proving I’m something and someone, a person with actual feelings, not this object s
he could use and abuse as she saw fit, how did I ever think that mattered?
At the moment, I really wish I had time machine socks.
It’s like Ex-Stephanie has a sixth sense because her head perks up like a freaking bloodhound, and she looks in our direction. She freezes—both her and the fit wall of muscle walking behind her. Yes, behind her. Because no one walks beside my ex-wife, and I seriously can’t remember ever holding her hand, ever wrapping an arm around her shoulders, or ever having a real moment of intimacy.
Of course, she can’t just walk the other direction and pretend like she didn’t see us and pass this off as some strange coincidence. Of course, she has to powerwalk straight over to us like her very existence and place in the universe depends on it. A few beads of sweat start trickling from my neck down my back, and I feel soaked all over. I feel sweaty and sick. This is not going to be good.
She looks expensive, which isn’t the same as looking good. I remember a time when I thought she was the most beautiful woman on the planet. Now, I’m not exactly sure why. There really isn’t anything beautiful about my ex-wife, and not just because she’s a bit older now. She’s just so artificial-looking. Her clothes are designer, and even her runners are designer. Her hair is bleached blonde, and I can tell she has extensions in. She’s wearing enough makeup to go out clubbing, plus she’s wearing a tight-fitting dress that matches. The first thing I notice is the low cut. The second thing is that she’s had breast augmentation surgery, or maybe she bought a very, very good bra, but I doubt it. They don’t look very natural, and I mean, I guess I would know.
I can feel myself flushing as my eyes slowly travel up to her face, and her fitness boyfriend is giving me a death glare for checking out his girlfriend’s breasts. I want to assure him it was a mistake, a casual observance because they’re very, uh, out there, and honestly nothing more. And then admit to a huge amount of shame, because I honestly feel it—about all of this.
“There’s no way.” Ex-Stephanie shakes her head, and her nearly white blonde hair dances around her face. Her lips are thick, too thick. Like she might have enhanced them too. “There’s no way you’re just here. You knew I was here! Someone tipped you off. You couldn’t just leave me alone, could you?”