On the Edge (Blue Spruce Lodge Book 1)

by Dani Collins

  Reacting purely on instinct, on desire to feel and taste, she leaned forward to kiss him. She sucked on his bottom lip in a way she had imagined a million times. As she did, he made a noise deep in his throat, hands moving to cup her ass and dragging her into place so her crotch was right against the thick shape of his hard cock. He opened his mouth against hers and kissed her back. Tangled his tongue with hers and pulled her into the devouring passion they’d shared the first time.

  She had almost believed she had imagined it, but no. He really did make her feel like this. Like everything fell away. Like she was in one of her own fantasies, sliding her hands to brace on the flexed muscles of his chest, pussy growing wet from the pull of his mouth on hers. It was so good.

  Sitting up, she pulled her T-shirt over her head and released her bra, letting the straps fall down her arms and throwing it away. Another test? Maybe a little. She wasn’t terribly endowed, barely filling a B cup, which was why she rarely bothered with a bra. They were perky little things, though.

  She still experienced a stab of insecurity as his gaze took a long, thorough study, one so avid, her nipples grew pinched and achy with anticipation.

  He licked his lips and pushed his hands under her ass, forcing her to set her forearm beside his head while he opened his mouth on her and drew deep on her nipple.

  “Ahh!”

  “Too hard?” He released her nipple and licked around it, soothing.

  “No, it was just really—Oh, fuck,” she breathed as he sucked again, just as strong. Her scalp tightened and hot wires tightened inside her, pulling at her clit and sending streaks of pleasure through her abdomen. She tightened her bent legs on his hips and moved restlessly. “That feels really good,” she gasped, stroking restless fingers through his hair as he moved to the other one. “Really, really good.” Her panties were wet and she grew wetter still as his hands stole beneath the legs of her shorts to brand her ass.

  Then, because she wasn’t holding back and was letting this take her wherever he wanted to go, she whispered, “I want you to fuck me.”

  His hands tightened on her butt so she very briefly felt the dig of his fingernails into her skin. He dragged his hands from her shorts and stroked her thighs, urging her to kiss him again. She did, kissing and kissing until she grew really impatient. She backed off him and opened her shorts, dropping them with her underwear in one move.

  He was propped on his elbows and took her in, nostrils flaring. Then his hand moved. She thought he was going to open the towel, but he rolled to open the night table drawer, removing a box of condoms.

  He pulled one from the box, then set it on his navel, one hand dropping the box by the pillow, the other opening the towel and beckoning her back onto him.

  Oh, sweet Lord. She licked her lips, fixated on that genuinely beautiful cock. Straight and flushed and turgid, thick and twitching, head glistening with pearly fluid.

  She moved without conscious thought, using one fingertip to lightly paint that fluid over his tip. If he reacted, she was too lost in fascination to notice, gently closing her hand and squeezing hard enough to feel him pulse, then loosely skimming her hand in very light pumps. She had never really enjoyed oral, but her mouth watered. She wanted to suck on him. Hard. Harder than he’d attacked her nipples.

  The thought of it had her pinching at nothing with her internal muscles, running a hand into her loins to part and soothe herself, yearning for him to be there.

  “I’m not complaining.” His voice rasped. “But I thought you would come on me a few times before I go off. I’m going lose it if you keep that up.”

  She dragged her gaze upward. He was on his elbows, gaze tracking restlessly over her naked body.

  Rolf. Unapologetic and frank. Built like a god, expression inscrutable.

  This wasn’t a dream or a dirty fantasy. She was naked, standing over him, cock in her hand, pussy aching with arousal. They were really doing this and she knew she ought to be thinking about how stupid it was. She probably should have thought of the repercussions a bunch of times by now, to discourage her fantasies in the first place, but she was allowed to think whatever she wanted. Fantasies were free. She had indulged herself, convinced this would never actually happen, so why would she have ever walked herself through all the reasons why it shouldn’t?

  There would be consequences to sleeping with him, however. The first being that this was far more impactful and profound than she had expected. Far sexier and more intimate.

  All she could think in this moment, however, was that she didn’t want to release him to unwrap that stupid condom.

  She tried not to look like a novice as she rolled the condom down his shaft, but her hands were shaking. He settled on his back again, patient, eyelids low and hiding his thoughts. When it was on, he encouraged her to straddle him again.

  Dare she? She did, reaching to line him up and then rocking his head against her lips to spread her slick juices before impaling herself. A glorious pleasure suffused her as she sank down. Her body felt too small to contain the sensations expanding in her. He reached into places that yearned and ached and needed to be touched so badly.

  “Oh, fuck,” she breathed toward the ceiling. This. She only needed this for the rest of her life. This thick cock stretching her meltingly sensitive sheath, his pubic bone pressing hard against her engorged lips and stimulating her swollen clit.

  She had to touch there, caressing and arousing herself, slipping her hand around to play with his tight balls, then coming back to circle her clit as she moved on him, riding that hard shaft from balls to tip.

  His hands bit into her hips, guiding her rhythm. It was insanely erotic, driving waves of thrilling pleasure higher and higher inside her.

  His breaths hissed through his teeth and he muttered something, hips lifting beneath her own, meeting each of her drops with a push that did everything she needed. He filled her to her very limits and kept her legs spread wide so her flesh had maximum contact, each impact full and deep. She didn’t think she’d ever been so wet in her life. So hungry. Fucked so deep and well.

  She ground against him, wet, wet, wet, cupping her hands around her breasts and playing with her nipples while her inner flesh grasped at his. She was so damned aroused, so lost, moving faster as the crisis approached. She barely registered he was speaking English now, circling her clit with his thumb.

  “Come on me. Do it. Come hard.”

  She did, head thrown back, shuddering and arching as she threw herself into the most intense orgasm of her life, pussy throbbing and soaking and clenching on his flesh. She rocked on that marble intrusion until every last pulse was wrung from her and all she had left were trembles.

  Then she sank into a splay across him, distantly aware of his heart pounding against her ear. He closed his arms around her, cradling her, petting her back and soothing her while his hot, thick cock throbbed inside her.

  *

  Somehow she was grateful for that stamina of his. After a few minutes of trying to catch her breath, she lifted her head enough to kiss him. She was buttery and dreamy and loved that he was still so hard inside her. She wanted more. Was insatiable for it. She dragged her tongue into his mouth and smiled against his lips when she felt the strong twitch of his response inside her.

  “Am I still in charge?” she asked throatily.

  “I’m thinking about that.”

  “I feel like you want to take over.” She moved on him, teasing, but enjoying.

  “I feel that way, too.” He rolled, almost disengaging, then pushing in again. He leaned over her, cupping her breast in his hand and dipping his head to suck.

  She moaned and writhed, gasping. “I want that, too.”

  “For me to take charge?” He pulled all the way out and sucked her other nipple.

  “I do,” she said, feeling the loss. “I really do.”

  “On your knees then.” He backed off the bed.

  Really? Filthy animal. She closed her knees and rolled, coming
up on all fours. He pushed her thighs apart and caressed between, lightly pinching her lips and caressing her inner thighs, making the center of her grow molten in anticipation.

  When she couldn’t stand it any longer, his weight came onto the bed behind her. His knees pushed against hers, spreading her legs wider. Then he rubbed against her, sex to sex, hands claiming her breasts and her waist in easy sweeps, her hips and the cheeks of her ass. It wasn’t enough.

  “Rolf.”

  “This?” He nudged his head at her opening.

  “Yes,” she sighed as he slid into her, filling her up again and making her groan at how good it was. She balanced on one hand and started to touch herself.

  “Not yet,” he said through his teeth, brushing her hand away then clutching her hips. “Feel.”

  He began to pump. She moaned again, holding still for him, body turning into a vessel that he filled and filled. She was an instrument, drawn taut like strings. Strum, pluck, feel, hold, quiver with intensity.

  She grew so wet again, his thighs slid against her own. He thrust harder. Not faster, but deeper. Each impact rang through her, right to the tips of her breasts. Her nipples wanted his mouth. Her clit was swollen and begging for stimulation. Her back bowed. Her entire body was caught in the rapture of this man fucking her and fucking her.

  She closed her fists in the blankets, biting her lip against making too much noise, but, “Oh, fuck,” she moaned. “Oh, fuck, Rolf. I can’t take it.” It was too good. Too perfect to sustain.

  “Now this,” he said, bracing one hand beside hers so he covered her, belly hot against her ass. His other slid from her hip to her abdomen, down to the inside of her thigh and up. He painted fingertips in the wetness, then traced where his shaft moved in and out of her with merciless precision.

  She guided his fingers, showed him, then dragged his pillow closer and buried her face in it, ass high to take the thrusts that increased in tempo. Two thick fingertips rubbed her clit, savage and delicious. She couldn’t offer enough of herself. Couldn’t open herself wide enough. She wanted him deeper. Wanted to come, needed to come. It was too much, not enough. What was he doing to her?

  He slammed into her harder and faster. Ruthlessly imprinting himself on her until she stopped breathing, just waiting and waiting until—

  She screamed into his pillow as her world exploded, holding herself steady for the pound of his hips. Come, she begged as her orgasm gripped her. She wanted his come, his ownership, his surrender to this sea of ecstasy.

  A ragged noise tore from his throat and he jammed himself in deep, grinding against her while his cock pulsed and spilled heat. They held that pose, wringing every last burst of pleasure from each other before he slowly, slowly collapsed, his weight flattening her beneath him.

  *

  He left her as their sweat was still drying.

  Glory wondered if she was supposed to leave. As the fog of hormonal high wore off, ghosts and insecurities crept in. He didn’t give her time to figure it out, coming back from the bathroom before she had found the strength to lift her head.

  Shy now, she dragged a pillow to her middle, staying mostly on her stomach with it hugged in front of her.

  “If you flushed that condom, I’m going to have my dad talk to you about the septic.”

  “Sexy, but unnecessary.” He went for the glass of wine and took a deep, appreciative sip. “Thanks for the room service.” His cock was relaxed, but long and loose. Smug. Like him.

  “Self-service.” She stretched her legs and curled her toes, then adjusted her face on the pillow. “I needed that. Thank you.”

  It was true, but he seemed to find it amusing, smirking as he said, “So did I. Want to do it again?”

  “Right now?” she taunted.

  “Yes.” He set the glass on the night table and crawled over her, rolling her onto her back beneath him as he did.

  “What are you? Some kind of professional athlete?”

  “I’ve been thinking about this a lot.” One strong hand squeezed her thigh, then rose to shape her breast. He kissed the tip as he settled alongside her, nibbling his way up her neck and nipping her chin. As he rubbed his beard into her neck, he whispered, “A lot.”

  *

  A tap on the window woke him. “Dude.” The tap grew louder. “Wake up.”

  Rolf dragged his heavy body into sitting up, brain like cotton, but he had the wherewithal to reach for Glory. She wasn’t here.

  “Rolf. Come on.” It was Trigg, rattling the latch on Rolf’s external door. “Open up.”

  Rolf yanked open the door, naked, brain still in a stupor from coming so hard his spine had nearly snapped.

  Trigg was in his underwear, looking toward the base. “Murphy took off. I brought him out for a pee and he heard something. Maybe I did, too. Yahoos, maybe. Not animals. We gotta check it out.”

  “Meet you downstairs.” Rolf turned away to dress and Trigg disappeared down the outside stairs. They met at the bottom a minute later, both in their jogging gear. They fell into an evenly paced, ground-eating run on the half-mile gravel road toward the base.

  Floodlights were on Rolf’s list for the base, once the portable office was installed on its pad. It hadn’t happened yet, though. Their path was only lit by the quarter moon. He strained to hear over their tramping footsteps, listening for Murphy. Or voices.

  Just as he thought he smelled something acrid, Trigg said, “Fuck me.”

  They both spotted the glow and leapt into a sprint. Was that the whine of an ATV? Definitely the growing roar of a fire. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  Trigg had got their portable office here on time, but the furniture had been delayed by the long weekend. That meant the wooden desks and plastic chairs were not feeding the fire licking out the broken windows. Black smoke poured out and up regardless, melting vinyl flooring and whatever lined the inside walls.

  “Call the fire truck.” Rolf scrambled his phone out of his pocket and hit the button for Nate, who was programmed as his first quick dial.

  Two rings and Nate said a sleepy, “Yeah.”

  “Fire at the base. Arson. Evacuate the lodge. Make sure everyone’s safe.”

  “Done.”

  Rolf ended the call. Trigg was finishing up with the dispatcher as Rolf came back from grabbing two shovels from the cargo trailer. They both started throwing dirt in the windows while the dog barked in the distance.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Glory woke to the fire alarm. She was naked, which was weird. She never slept naked. Her brain was muddled from a really deep sleep and she was kind of sore, in a sexy, intimate way. Like she had done a really intense, hot yoga class with her vagina.

  She clumsily scrambled into clothes, taking time to throw her laptop into her bag, which she knew was horrible, but come on. At least all the rooms exited to the outside. She knocked on Rolf’s outside door as she went, even opened it, surprised to find it unlocked. He wasn’t there.

  When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she saw Nate with his son, Aiden, wrapped in a blanket and crying on his shoulder. Nate seemed to be looking in the shrubs for something.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Fire at the base.”

  She looked that direction. It was too far to see through the trees, but she thought she could see the glow and smoke illuminated by the moonlight.

  “Where’s Rolf?”

  “Fighting the fire. Said I should check, make sure no one started anything here.”

  “I’ll do a head count.”

  Two of Devon’s workers had stayed behind to keep an eye on their work trailer, but the lodge and grounds were mostly deserted on account of the long weekend. The lodge’s security guard, a retiree named Kyle, was in residence with Rolf, Trigg, Nate, and her father.

  As she reached the front of the lodge, she found her father talking on the phone to the fire department. Devon’s two guys hopped on their ATVs to go help fight the fire.

  Nate came around from the far corner, A
iden still on his shoulder and still unhappy.

  “I should get down there and help. Everything looks fine here.”

  “Do you, um, want me to take him?” Glory hadn’t babysat since she’d been thirteen and discovered she did not possess maternal instincts.

  “Thanks.” Nate handed him across. “You have to stay with Glory, son. She’ll look after you until I get back.”

  The little boy didn’t fight going into her arms, but he cried, “Daddy,” very piteously as Nate took off. It was gut-wrenching.

  He was heavier than Glory expected. She tried rubbing his back and jostled him a bit, feeling quite useless. Other people made it look so easy.

  “You’re breaking my heart, buddy.”

  Aiden stopped crying long enough to look at her, cheeks wet with tears. Then started crying again. It was kind of funny, but she didn’t laugh. She wiped his cheek with her thumb and patted his back.

  Her father returned from turning off the fire alarm to say that he would keep watch until the fire trucks arrived.

  Aiden stopped crying long enough to say, “Fire trucks?”

  “Yes, they’re coming out here because—” don’t say, ‘big’ “—there’s a little fire. Way over there. On a tree. Your dad went to help put it out. You won’t hear the truck when it gets here if you’re crying, though.”

  She was pure evil, playing him like that, but it seemed to work. He whimpered, “Daddy,” once more, but settled in his bed when she broke into Nate’s room and placed the boy there. He stuck his thumb in his mouth, attentive as he listened for the siren. His eyelids grew heavy, blinking and blinking and finally staying closed.

  Poor little guy.

  Glory turned most of the lights off and stood at the window until the fire truck lumbered by the lodge, heading to the base. It had taken a solid hour for them to get here from Haven. They would have to consider that as they formed a more robust plan for fire safety, once the lodge was open to the public.

  She stood at the window a while longer, worried about everyone, but she was also exhausted.