Lumbersexual (Novella) Page 7

  And his tattoos. Bright colors, designs that complemented the curves of his muscles, marking his biceps, his triceps, his forearms. My hands followed the gentle rise of his biceps, and traced the ink, feeling the liveliness of his skin. Holding me. Now that he was leaning down to have his body cover mine, his hard cock finally between my legs, his arms flexed and I could see all of them.

  Sublime.

  Again he knelt up between my legs, but this time he finished undressing me, the panty-dropping grin becoming reality. He backed up, unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, and ordered, “Hips up.” I lifted my body, and he peeled my pants and undies off. Gazing at me, he stood next to the bed, pausing, holding my clothes. He just looked at me naked in his bed, taking things slow. Savoring it.

  All I wanted was for him to touch me. So keyed up, wet, swelling, I wanted to rub myself, waiting, anxious, goddamn it, get a move on. I pressed my thighs together.

  He put one large hand on each knee and splayed me out on his big, plaid bed.

  Starting at my bellybutton, licking and sucking, he kissed his way up my torso, making it to my nipple, where he sucked hard, so hard. He almost bit it, which I wouldn’t normally think that I’d like, but I loved it. More, more, more.

  Swirling his tongue around that nipple, he reached between my legs and I almost jumped when he hit the right spot, because it felt so good, like the best present ever. Like a promise of relief from the attraction and arousal he’d made me feel since I first saw him.

  And with one of his big hands, he pinned both of my wrists over my head, while he gently rubbed my clit with the other. Delicious, exquisite pressure.

  And he started talking as he held my hands and circled my clit, his mouth igniting my skin, kissing my neck between words. “You gotta know, you’re fucking phenomenal. I’ve wanted you since the second I saw you. You’re so damn hot.” Finger circles increased, and my body clicked.

  Into orgasm mode.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  I barely knew what he was saying, but he kept talking to me, holding me still, feasting on my skin, rubbing my core. “Your body is sick. Goddamn so hot, these tits are perfect.” And he bit the other one gently with his teeth, still pinning my hands over my head, and he inserted another finger into me and curled up as his thumb circled, so wet, and yes, yes, yes, I was gonna come, I was gonna come on his hand, I was gonna . . .

  Fuck!

  Yes!

  Soaring, in the high Sierra, I came and I came hard, my body shuddering, my brain focused on nothing but the rush of pleasure, the focus from the sensations rocking through me, and he stayed with me, let go of my hands, and kept the shockwaves going until I became soft like river sand. “I need you in me.”

  “Not yet.” And he stuck his finger in his mouth and sucked it, this time tasting me for dessert. Kneeling down, his hands went under my ass, his head between my legs, and he started to lick my pussy.

  Fuck. Yes.

  I had no problem with coming multiple times, other than finding an opportunity with the right guy.

  Court was the right guy.

  His shaved hair brushed my thighs, his tongue on my clit, a finger in me, he started a rhythm that set up another orgasm—and this one was gonna be huge.

  Spiky-soft beard on the most intimate part of me, he gave it to me, gave me him, not holding back, not tentative. Giving me all of his attention, all of his tongue, working my body to another crescendo of pleasure, and this time, letting go, I screamed, because there was no other way to get it all out. As I came, he grabbed my ass with his free hand, pressing me to his face, feeling me rock against him, all tongue and fingers and man and me. The waves came and came and then subsided and I was even softer in his bed, swollen, wanting him inside me, wanting to see his cock, to see what he looked like when he came, to give him the pleasure he’d just given me.

  “Now, Court. Please. Please.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I can’t wait.”

  “Do it. Please.” I’d never begged before, but I had to have him, and I had to have him now.

  He got up, stood on the floor, and undid his jeans, dropping them to the ground. His erection tented his dark blue boxers. I stayed on the bed and reached over, holding the elastic, wanting to give everything, totally lost with him, not knowing anything else but him.

  I pressed his boxers down, and he helped. I finally got a look at his cock.

  Straight, veiny, and totally turned on for me.

  I mean, really. He was the perfect size, or even slightly too big, but yes. Please. I got off the bed to the floor, knelt, and took him in my mouth.

  Oh my God he tasted fantastic. His skin soft, his cock reactive, I gripped him gently and stroked, and now it was his turn to moan. “Fuck, Maggie. Fuck. No. Fuck that’s so good but—”

  He pulled back and reached over to the bedside table to open a drawer and procure a condom. Ripping it open, then rolling it on, he pulled me up to the bed and hovered over me. But he paused for a moment—my legs spread wide, my breasts wet from his kisses, my nipples hard and at attention, my pussy plump and soaked—and just looked at me.

  Looked at me.

  In the dark.

  Those eyes on me. Still hovering.

  “Maggie, you are so beautiful.”

  Then he positioned himself at my entrance, closed his eyes, and sunk into me, slow, wet, deliberate, and profound. I gasped.

  Ohmigod.

  Yes.

  He wrapped his arms around me, pressed into me, and I grabbed his hair, needing to pull it, feel how thick it was. He thrust in and out, in and out, and made a noise in his throat like a bear.

  Knees up on either side of him, he bore into me, but it was the most amazing feeling in the world, like I was complete. Like I’d found myself, and I’d found myself with him. My head buzzed. My body throbbed. I felt alive. I wrapped my legs around him.

  He ran a hand down my side. “You have the most magnificent body with the most gorgeous curves. Stunning.”

  As he fucked me, I started moaning again. I’d never been fucked like this before. I was bursting from it.

  “Come on top. Wanna see you.”

  Without breaking the connection, we rolled over, and I leaned back, straddling his cock. God, yes. Every inch of him in me. Making me hum and moan and my God, there was no one here, and I could make all the noise I wanted. Sounds came out of my mouth I’d never made before.

  “This way,” he ordered, and somehow I ended up flat on my belly, with him behind me, at his mercy. His hand snaked down and rubbed my clit and that was it, that was enough to make me come again, hard, shattering, pulsing, nerves prickling, waves crashing through me. A moment later, he thrust up hard and groaned so loud, so sexy. “Fucking fuck, yes.” And he collapsed on my back.

  I carried the weight of a contented bear.

  He kissed my throat, ran his hands up and down my torso, and flopped onto his back. I curled up next to him, my knee flopped over his thigh.

  “Ohmigod,” I whispered.

  “Yeah,” he whispered back. He leaned toward me and kissed me softly, almost a butterfly kiss. So gentle. “I found you, Maggie. And now you’re mine.”

  I snuggled into Court’s neck, my dark curls flopping all over his white pillow. Slowly, I traced a line down his arm. He turned his head and kissed my forehead.

  “Tell me about your tattoos.”

  Raised eyebrows. “‘kay.” He held up one arm.

  “Traditional Japanese style, but they’re Miwok legends about Yosemite. Stealing fire here. Origin of thunder and lightning here. Story of the bear and the deer here.”

  Holding up the other arm, he gestured. “Heart with mom. Here it says, ‘Like Father Like Son.’ And I’ve got designs marking each summer I worked here. Half Dome for when I climbed it. A mountain lion for the time we had to capture one, tag it, and release it in the wild. Snowshoes for winter in Badger Pass.”

  “If you were making a tattoo for this summer, what would you add?”


  “Yosemite Falls. No question.” I suddenly felt very funny. “With the Big Dipper pouring into it. Kissing you.”

  “You’d put something to remember me on your body?”

  “In a heartbeat.”

  That was pretty intense—telling me he’d tattoo something on him that reminded him of me made me question what I knew about him. Where was this casual reputation everyone thought about?

  I yawned. “I’m so tired. It’s been a long day.”

  “Then sleep. I’ll take you home in the morning in time to get to work.”

  “My roommates might worry about me. I can’t call them.”

  He smiled sleepily. “I’m pretty sure they know exactly where you are.”

  And cuddled in his arms, I drifted, naked, into a deep and restful sleep.

  The next morning, Court woke me by kissing my neck with his bristly beard. “You sleep good?”

  Waking up to that voice and those lips on my neck reminded me of the mountain next to Half Dome with the ethereal name, Cloud’s Rest. Cocooned in white sheets and a plaid comforter in a cabin, early morning light streaming in, I could easily be convinced to never leave.

  I nodded and turned to kiss him good morning.

  “You look pretty as a picture,” he said.

  “We should take a selfie. I like the idea of the first picture on the camera to be us in bed.”

  He got out of bed, grabbed the camera, and came back, tucking the sheet under my arms to cover my boobs. Spooning behind me, arm under my neck, he extended a tattooed arm and took a picture. He reached to set the camera on the bedside table, came back, and ran a finger down my arm, his chin by my neck, his lips on my ear. “We’ve got time before we have to get to the station—”

  “Yes, please.”

  One arm under my neck, another holding my boobs, he bit my neck gently, then kissed his way down my shoulder. I reached behind me and grabbed his cock, which was hard because, of course, morning wood. As I stroked him, his hand made its way between my legs. My body hummed. Gentle pressure. Rubbing each other. Enjoying the intimacy of hitting his spot as he hit mine.

  I couldn’t wait any more. I started wiggling against his body, and he groaned the sexiest groan of denied pleasure. I wanted him in me now. I wanted sleepy spooning morning sex.

  “Get a condom,” I whispered.

  “Not until you come first. I’ll take care of you. That’s the way it works.”

  Okay.

  He rolled me to my back, leaned over, and nudged my thighs apart with his face. Beard tickled my thighs. Hot tongue on my clit. I gasped at the contact. His fingertips brushed my wet skin, pushing aside my folds and stimulating all the nerve endings. The most generous pressure, lighting a match on my skin and making my feet burn, my hands clawing the sheet, my head thrashing on the pillow, all the focus and all the attention on increasing my need, making it so I headed to a cliff—the kind that wasn’t scary—and was getting there and getting there and getting there and then—

  Yes.

  Fuck.

  Off the cliff I dove, but instead of freefalling I soared, riding thermals of air and enjoying the hell out of the ride.

  He looked up at me and grinned. “Now I get a condom.”

  I nodded, weightless, gummy. He got one and put it on, then climbed between my legs, and again looked at me.

  “You like to look at me?” I asked.

  “I do.”

  Gathering both of my hands in one of his again, and pinning them over my head, he entered me, and I arched back, alert, and it felt so fucking good.

  “Let me feel your back.”

  He nodded and let go of my hands, and I made my way down his broad shoulders, his spine, his ass, as he pushed into me.

  “Put your legs down flat,” he ordered. Both of us lying straight, I realized that the friction from him was amazing, and I could come like this, again.

  I told him.

  He nodded, so totally intent and focused on fucking me, that it was hard to talk. And fuck, he got the right spot, he made me feel so alive. Present. Here. “That’s the idea.” And he punctuated his next sentence with his thrusts, propping himself up on his elbows. “I.” Thrust. “Want. To. See. You. Come.” Pause. “Again.”

  I did.

  My pussy walls shrunk around his cock, my core so wet, my muscles tensing. And I spasmed, writhing under him as he kept thrusting, making me shriek in pleasure, pulse around him, suck him in, tighten up.

  “Oh, God,” I moaned, my chin up, my hair all over the pillow, and he grabbed my mouth and kissed me hard, tongue shoved in my mouth, smelling of my arousal and passion and sex, and after an initial shock, I kissed him back just as passionately, riding out the orgasm, all the feelings.

  After I climaxed, I whimpered, “Let me see you come, too. I didn’t get to last night.”

  He stared at me, still moving his hips into me, and I felt seen.

  Then he nodded.

  He changed the angle, hitching my knees up, shoving a pillow under my ass, keeping his eyes on mine, a big hand under my lower back, holding me to him, the other bracing him up.

  And this time I got to see him come.

  A tendril of his light hair fell over his brow and into his eyes. He closed his eyes and then forced them open, forced himself to look at me. A vein pulsed on his neck. His cheeks tensed over his high cheekbones and his jaw tightened. Then he squinted, his breath came fast, and he opened his blue-green eyes and locked onto mine, holding me into him, pushing up into me so hard. I could feel him spilling into me, the condom catching it, but the pumping, the passion, this moment, all mine, just for me.

  He gave me himself.

  Then he collapsed onto me and hugged me tight, burying his head in my neck.

  I didn’t know what to think, except that I was profoundly moved. I’ve never had anyone give themselves to me like that. I’ve never had anyone let me in like that. I saw him, and he saw me.

  Absolutely vulnerable. Absolutely intimate.

  Mine.

  That moment was mine.

  My contented bear sleepily kissed his way up my neck to my lips, and curled up next to me, his mouth on my shoulder.

  “Hate to say it, babe, but I think it’s time to get up and go to work.”

  He was right. I hated to leave, not wanting this moment to end.

  We showered at his house, then he took me to mine to get dressed in my uniform. He waited in the living room, not giving a shit that the entire house knew that I stayed at his house last night. I added that to another reason why I liked him.

  Then he drove both of us to work, telling me that he’d take me home that evening, too.

  When we walked into the ranger station, Amanda took one look at Court holding my hand and her eyes narrowed. Then she plastered that beauty pageant smile on her face. “Hi, guys!”

  “Amanda.” Court stated it like a particularly tragic accident. Thank God. But she didn’t get the hint.

  “Court, I was wondering if you wanted to go into town and get pizza sometime soon.”

  In front of me. Seriously? But before I could open my mouth to call her out on being rude, Court took care of it.

  “Can’t. I’m taking Maggie.”

  First I’d heard of it. But damn, while I hated her for coming on to him right while I was standing there, I adored that he stuck up for me. This morning meant something to him too, right? “Sounds good,” I said.

  Her eye twitched in a way that was downright unpleasant, then the fake smile reappeared. “Next time, then.”

  “Thanks for the ride, Court.”

  That’s what she said.

  Stop it, Maggie.

  I went to the back office to meet up with the crew and go to the site we were monitoring today.

  At the end of the day, I returned a few minutes early. Court wasn’t done, so I sat at a computer in the back office and checked my email for the first time in days. I heard the door open and looked up, smiling, thinking it was him.
But it was Amanda.

  She pulled up an office chair right beside me, and started speaking in a rush, her eyebrows lowered, her voice almost a whisper. “Listen, Maggie. You need to know that Court has been with me for years. Five years. Every summer he finds a new fling, and at the end he comes back to me. Every. Single. Time. I am the only one for him. So you can have your fun for now, but know that he doesn’t mean it. He’s been mine for years. He’s still mine.”

  I stopped breathing.

  No.

  This wasn’t true.

  He . . . He . . . No.

  But even though my intellect told me that she was a conniving bitch—and had her own problems of staying with a guy who dumped her every summer—my imagination feared that what she said was correct. Because this was just for the summer. We both knew it, even if we didn’t say it.

  She raised her eyebrows conspiratorially. “You know it’s true. You can tell. A woman knows. You know when a guy is into you and when he’s just using you.” She leaned in, wrinkled her nose, and whispered, “He’s just using you.”

  And she stood up and turned her pretty little ass out of there.

  I was close to hyperventilating. This was more than just casual. After last night? This morning? I was kidding myself when I thought that I could have a casual affair.

  Maybe now I was trusting him.

  But I didn’t trust myself.

  It wasn’t Amanda. She couldn’t hurt me. But I could hurt myself. By thinking I could just have a fling and leave with my heart in one piece.

  I couldn’t.

  Court would be waiting for me out front, so I left out the back door, deciding to walk the mile or so home.

  But I didn’t get far before I heard the thrum of his truck. “Maggie,” he called out the window as he pulled up behind me and stopped the engine. He got out, a flash of anger across his face. “What the hell?”

  “What are we doing, Court?” I put my hand on my hips, not caring that I was standing in the middle of a road and a car could come around any time. Not caring about anything. I didn’t want to see him.