Torch

by Roxie Noir

  She pauses.

  “And I keep worrying about you,” she admits. “And I keep remembering being in college, with air conditioning and a real bed and parties and beer and knowing that you were out in the desert, probably miserable, and just wondering if you were okay.”

  “Only for me to call and pick a fight with you because I was afraid you could do better?” I ask.

  Clementine laughs.

  “Obviously, I couldn’t,” she says.

  “I’m flattered,” I say. Her eyes flick over my face, and I wrap one arm around her, pulling her further in front of me. “And I’ll be fine.”

  We kiss, and when we separate, she looks at the fire again, and I wrap both arms around her, holding her close, my chin resting on top of her head.

  “What should I name it?” she asks, leaning against me.

  “You mean what should we name it?”

  “I did see it first,” she points out. “Mike said I get naming rights.”

  One time, the summer after we graduated, Clementine’s parents went on vacation without her and Jane. We convinced Jane to spend the night with a friend, which wasn’t hard since she was sixteen, knew exactly what we were up to, and wanted no part of it. I forget what I told my parents, but it worked.

  Then we got drunk on her parents’ whiskey and had sex on her couch. Afterward, lying there, we started talking about what we should name our kids, because we were both still completely moonstruck and totally certain that we’d be married by twenty-three.

  This feels a little like that. It’s a fire, not kids, but the memory still tickles at my brain.

  “George,” I say.

  Clementine laughs.

  “I can’t name a fire George,” she says.

  “Gertrude.”

  “I know a dog named Gertrude,” she says. “She’s a panty-stealing terror.”

  “And you haven’t told me about her yet?” I ask.

  “I forgot,” Clementine says, snuggling against me, my only-a-little-erect dick right between the globes of her ass. I think desperately about Trout, her cute dog, trying to keep it only a little erect.

  “You’ll meet her. I think you’ll get along,” Clementine goes on.

  “Because I’m also a panty-stealing terror?”

  “Do you steal them?” she asks, turning to look at me. “Don’t tell me I’m gonna find a drawer full of used underpants from all your conquests.”

  Her ass rubs against me as she turns my head, and I can’t think of a good response very fast.

  “Um,” I say, then swallow. “Conquests?”

  “Silas happened to casually mention that you get a lot of tail,” she says. “I think he was trying to suggest that he was a better match for me.”

  My heart freezes, because I knew we were gonna talk about this sooner or later, but I was hoping I’d be better prepared. Clementine just looks at my face and then laughs.

  “I haven’t exactly been a nun,” she says. “I kind of went on a tear after we broke up, actually.”

  “A sex tear?” I ask, then frown.

  “Please don’t ever use that phrase again.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It was more of a make-out-with-guys-in-bars-and-get-fingered... phase,” she says deliberately. “I didn’t actually fuck all that many.”

  “I did,” I say.

  At least the thought of nineteen-year-old Clementine making out with some bro in a dark bar is making my erection fade.

  “You know, it’s weird,” she says, leaning against me again.

  “That I got laid?” I tease. “I’d think you would understand.”

  “I used to think about that all the time, after we broke up, and get really upset,” she says. “I’d be studying or something, and just think, I’m in this library at midnight and I bet Hunter has two girls on his dick at the same time.”

  “Only once,” I say.

  Then I pause.

  “No, twice.”

  She looks at me, eyebrows raised.

  “The first time was okay, just confusing, and the second was going better until they casually mentioned that they were sisters,” I say. “And... no.”

  She just starts laughing, and I pull her in, my nose in her hair.

  “Confusing?” she says.

  “I didn’t know where my dick went,” I say into her hair.

  She laughs even harder.

  “Poor thing,” she says, and turns her head, kissing my shoulder.

  “I didn’t think you’d react like this when I finally told you what I’ve been up to,” I say.

  “Me either,” she says. “It’s weird, right? That I spent so long getting upset about it, but now that I actually know I don’t care?”

  “That’s ‘cause it’s over and I know exactly where my dick goes,” I say.

  “Romantic,” Clementine murmurs.

  She moves against me, just a little, and it gives my dick a renewed sense of purpose.

  “You know I didn’t cheat on you, right?” I say, looking at the fire. “That was all after we broke up.”

  “I didn’t cheat on you either,” she says. “I think you were worried I did.”

  “I haven’t been for a long time,” I say.

  She wiggles again, and this time she arches her back just a little, sliding my dick along her ass.

  I can tell it’s deliberate, and I’m hard in seconds. Clementine puts her hands on the railing, then leans forward a few degrees and does it again.

  I put my hands on her hips and lean in.

  “I could swear you’re getting me hard on purpose,” I say into her ear.

  Clementine just wraps one hand around the back of my head and pulls me down, half-turning to kiss me, still moving her hips.

  She must do yoga or something, because damn.

  “So male strippers and talking about the time I had a threesome are what get you going,” I tease.

  “If you’d rather believe that than the truth, go ahead,” she says.

  Now I’m grabbing her hips, holding her spandex-covered ass tight against me, just watching it move against my shaft. I’m visual. Sue me.

  “What’s the truth?” I ask, because I just want to hear her say it.

  “I like your dick,” she says, looking at me over her shoulder.

  I could hear her say that a million times and it wouldn’t get old.

  “And the rest of you, I guess,” she teases.

  I push myself against her and slide my hands up her shirt, cupping both breasts in my hands, rubbing her nipples against my palms. Clementine moans softly, her hand tightening on the rail, and I kiss the back of her neck.

  Suddenly she stands up straight, leaning against my shoulder, looking up at me. I push her shirt over her breasts and tweak her nipples, looking down so I can watch. Clementine sighs and wriggles again.

  “Hey,” she says softly.

  “Yeah?”

  She swallows.

  “Do you wrap it up with conquests?” she says.

  It takes me a minute to remember what she means by conquests.

  “Of course,” I finally say.

  “Always? Every single time?”

  “I don’t have any secret kids,” I say.

  “Condoms ever break?” she asks.

  Her eyes are closed, and I’m still rubbing her nipples, her breasts filling my hands.

  “Once, a few years ago,” I say, and kiss her neck again, slowly, because I think I’ve figured out where she’s going with this. “But there’s a mandatory physical at the start of every fire season, and they’re very thorough.”

  She bites her lip, eyes closed, and nuzzles the top of her head against my chin.

  “I’m on the pill,” she says. “And I’m clean.”

  I pinch her nipples, and she moans. I feel like my whole body is buzzing with sheer desire as she kisses me under the chin, the only spot she can really reach.

  “You want me to fuck you bare?” I ask. My voice comes out a low growl.


  Clementine looks up at me, her hazel eyes wide, her lips slightly parted, her chest heaving.

  “Please?” she says.

  It’s so fucking hot that it knocks the wind out of my lungs, and I forget to breathe for a moment. Clementine lifts her eyebrows.

  “Yes,” I say, kissing her hard.

  She reaches one hand into my pants and grabs my dick behind her back, holding it tight and stroking it hard. I hook my thumbs under the waist of her leggings, pull them halfway down her thighs, and Clementine parts her legs as I reach between them from behind.

  She’s wet as hell, her lips and clit a little swollen, and she moans again when I touch her, arching her back, grabbing the railing again with the hand that’s not on my dick. I run my thumb over her soaking wet lips and down to her clit, my other hand squeezing her ass, and Clementine gasps, stroking me one more time.

  Then she puts her other hand on the railing, leaning a little forward. I push my pants down and they puddle at my feet.

  “I thought you didn’t really like it from behind,” I say into her ear. “You used to always want to do it face-to-face.”

  I grab her hips with one hand and press the tip of my cock against her clit, the slight pressure making a tremor run through my body. She looks over her shoulder at me and rocks back.

  “Sometimes a girl just wants to get bent over and fucked hard,” she murmurs, smiling.

  I kiss her on the shoulder blade and move my cock until the tip is at her slippery, swollen entrance, and then I slide just the head inside her. She gasps softly, and a shock of pleasure runs through my body. I want to sink my whole cock into her right then, so bad I can barely stop myself, but I grab her shoulder and pull out.

  We’ve never fucked bare before, but we’re not teenagers any more, and we’ve got all the time in the world. I want to do this right, fuck her slow, memorize every skin-to-skin millimeter. I slide a little deeper with each thrust, and soon Clementine is gasping, panting for breath, moving her hips back like she wants more but I don’t give it to her.

  Not yet, anyway.

  “You don’t have to go slow,” she says, looking at me over her shoulder.

  “I know,” I say, and kiss the back of her neck, her lower lips halfway up my shaft. I pull out.

  She reaches back and puts one hand around my neck.

  “C’mon,” she whispers.

  I push into her again, her tight muscles gripping me. She moans, and I pull back.

  “I only get to fuck you bare for the first time once,” I murmur. I thrust again, deeper. “I want to feel every inch.”

  Out, in. I’m going faster because I can’t help it, and Clementine’s eyes are closed and her head is back.

  “And I like making you feel every inch,” I say.

  I’m moving even faster now, almost all the way in, and I think I’m slowly losing my mind.

  “I think you like that too,” I murmur.

  “I do,” she whispers.

  “It doesn’t get much better than when you’re moaning with my cock inside you,” I say.

  Out, in. Out, and then suddenly I’m there, buried balls deep. Clementine is panting for breath, both hands white-knuckled on the railing. She turns her head and I kiss her savagely, rocking our hips together as she moans quietly into my mouth.

  “Thank you,” she murmurs when we pull apart.

  Fuck, it’s hot. I nuzzle her ear, half laughing as I start thrusting.

  “What?” she gasps.

  “You’ve never thanked me before,” I say.

  “You’ve never fucked me like that before,” she says.

  I mean to go slow, because I want to bring her to the brink and drive her crazy until she begs me to make her come, but I can’t help myself. I manage slow and sensual for a few seconds before a wild, primal urge takes me over and I push Clementine against the railing, gripping her shoulder from the front, driving my cock into her as hard as I can.

  She’s just moaning, and every so often a couple words make it through, something like fuck yes Hunter God yes.

  “This what you wanted?” I growl in her ear, her pussy gripping me so tight that I bite her shoulder.

  “Jesus yes,” she whispers, turning her head. “Hunter, I’m—”

  Suddenly her hand flies off the railing and for a split second, Clementine lurches forward.

  I pull her back instantly, away from the railing, until my back hits the glass of the lookout windows and they rattle.

  “Shit, ow,” she says, shaking her right hand, still panting for breath.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, holding her tight against me. I thought the railing had broken, but it’s still there, perfectly solid.

  “I’m fine, my hand slipped,” she says. She grabs my hair and pulls my face to hers, kissing me hungrily.

  “Don’t stop,” she murmurs.

  I spin her around, push her against the window as she laughs, then pull her down until we’re both on our knees on the wooden plank floor of the balcony. Somehow, she tugs her leggings the rest of the way off and braces herself against the wall as I kneel behind her, cock in hand.

  I don’t tease her this time. I don’t have the willpower, I just thrust into her as hard as I can and listen to her guttural moan echo off the wall in front of her.

  Before I know it we’re back where we were and I’m driving into her as hard as I can, her forearms against the wall, her palms flat against it, her head against her arms. I’ve got one arm against the wall, my hand over hers, one hand on her hip.

  “God, I like fucking you this way,” I growl. “Clem, I’m gonna come soon if —”

  “Don’t stop,” she gasps, interrupting me. “Please don’t stop, Hunter, please.”

  I don’t. I wrap my arm around her waist and slam into her harder, my knees grinding against the wooden floor.

  “Fuck!” Clem shouts, her eyes closed, her mouth open. “Fuck, Hunter, make me come,” she whispers.

  Her muscles are gripping and fluttering around me, and she feels so intoxicating that if I lost control right now I’d come my brains out.

  I don’t. I force myself not to come as I slow down and fuck her hard and deep, leaning my head against hers.

  “You feel so fucking good,” she whispers, locking her hand in my hair. “Don’t stop, don’t you fucking dare stop.”

  “Jesus, Clem,” I say into her ear.

  “I’m gonna come,” she gasps, her muscles clenching.

  Then she opens her eyes halfway and looks at me.

  “I come so fucking hard when you’re inside me,” she whispers.

  Then she comes and I can feel how hard she comes, her muscles clamping down around me, her hand clenching my hair as she moans oh fuck yes over and over.

  I’ve seen her come a lot but I’ve never seen her lose control like this. I’ve never felt her come this hard, or look at me like that.

  I’d walk across the fucking Sahara to make it happen again.

  I want to say you’re so fucking beautiful but she pulls my mouth to hers and kisses me, long and hard, and as she does she rocks back against me and then pulls forward, her muscles squeezing me tight.

  She lets me go and does it again, so I put one hand against the wall and let her fuck me fast and hard and in moments I’m at the edge.

  “Jesus, Clem, you feel good,” I gasp.

  Clementine looks over her shoulder, her lips parted, the wickedest look I’ve ever seen on her face.

  “I want you to come inside me,” she says.

  It’s barely out of her mouth before I do, practically exploding deep in her as she keeps moving back and forth, and it’s all I can do to stay upright as I release myself into her again and again.

  When I finally stop coming I think I’m shaking, and I bend forward gently, kissing Clementine on the shoulder and then on the lips when she turns her head toward me. I wrap my arm around her waist, and I never, ever want to move again.

  21

  Clementine

&nb
sp; This is better than it was, I think.

  We’re covered in sweat and we still haven’t moved, still kneeling and leaning against the wall of the lookout, fifty feet off the ground. The thought just comes to me, out of nowhere, but I know it’s true.

  I put my hand over Hunter’s, on my waist, and slide my fingers between his. He kisses the back of my neck, and I wonder if it can be this good off the mountain, down in the real world, where he leaves to go fight fires and I stay in Lodgepole and wonder if he’s okay.

  You have to try, I think. You know this is worth it.

  Hunter finally slides out and then sits with his back against the wall, pulling me to his chest. It’s a long time before I look at him, then look down at myself, then start laughing.

  He just looks at me quizzically.

  “We’re still both wearing shirts,” I say.

  He looks down, then starts laughing.

  “It’s not a good look,” I say.

  “You weren’t complaining,” he says, tilting his head back.

  I put my hand on the floor to shift my weight, and something pinches in my palm. I look closer in the dying sunlight, holding it up in front of my face, and Hunter takes it in his other hand.

  “I think I got a nasty splinter,” I say.

  “Looks like it,” he says. “That from the railing?”

  “Yeah, they’re old and my hand slipped,” I say, poking at the splinter with my other hand.

  “I seriously thought you were falling over for a second,” he says. “Scared the shit out of me.”

  “Good thing I didn’t,” I say. “For one thing, there’s no way you don’t get charged with murder.”

  “For another thing, I’m glad you’re not dead,” he teases. “That was my first thought, actually.”

  I tilt my face toward him and he kisses me.

  “Aren’t you sweet,” I say.

  “Come on, let’s go fix your splinter,” he says. “And maybe tomorrow there will be a whole day where you don’t hurt yourself.”

  “Don’t get too excited about that,” I say. “I’m a magnet for minor injuries.”

  I could get the splinter out pretty easily myself, but I let Hunter do it at the tiny table, under the light of a Coleman camping lantern. Then we sit on the cot and watch the glow of the fire, a map in front of us. When the wind blows the right way, I can smell the smoke.