My cock, heavy and aching, brushed the cleft of her ass first, then slid lower until the swollen head nestled right against her slick entrance. She was soaked—her own arousal and the remnants of her earlier release coating her folds—but she was still so fucking tight.
Virgin tight.
The thought made my jaw clench with raw need even as I forced myself to hold perfectly still.
"Easy, baby," I breathed against the shell of her ear, my voice low and rough, barely above a whisper because the mountains carried sound. "We've got all the time in the world. Just breathe for me."
I felt her shiver at the words. One hand slid around her hip, my palm flattening low on her belly for a moment before my fingers found her clit again—swollen, slippery, and begging. I started with firm, slow circles, pressing just enough to make her hips twitch. My other hand cupped the soft, full weight of her breast, thumb brushing over the tight peak of her nipple before I pinched it lightly, rolling it between my fingers, then soothing the sting with gentle strokes.
A soft, breathy whimper escaped her—quiet enough that only I could hear it, but raw enough to make my cock throb where it rested just inside her. She pushed back against me instinctively, trying to take more, but I kept my hips locked, giving her only the head, rocking in shallow little pulses that stretched her open without overwhelming her.
"That's it," I murmured, lips brushing the sensitive spot just below her ear. "Feel how wet you are for me? Your body knows exactly what it wants, even if it's new. Relax into it, Pandora. Let me make you feel good."
She made another sound—a needy little mewl that she tried to muffle, but it still reached me, clear and sweet. Her inner walls fluttered around the tip of my cock, squeezing in rhythmicpulses as my fingers kept working her clit in steady circles, never speeding up, just building her higher. I pinched her nipple again, a little firmer this time, then tugged gently, and her back arched, pressing her breast harder into my palm.
"Hayes…" she gasped, the word barely audible, more air than sound.
"I've got you," I promised, voice gravelly with restraint. My own arousal was pounding through me—every shallow thrust sent sparks up my spine, the tight heat of her gripping just the head of my cock driving me insane. "You're doing so good. So fucking perfect. Let it build. Don't fight it."
Her breathing grew ragged, little panting whimpers slipping out with each circle of my fingers on her clit and each shallow rock of my hips. She was trembling now, her grip on the railing fierce, her thighs quivering where they pressed against mine. I could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in her body, her walls starting to pulse more insistently around me.
"Come again for me," I growled softly against her neck, the words vibrating through her skin. "Let me feel that pretty pussy squeeze me. I want to feel you come while I'm inside you."
This time, the cry that tore from her was louder—a sharp, desperate "ahh" that she couldn't quite swallow, echoing just enough in the quiet porch air to feel illicit and perfect. Her whole body seized, back bowing as her orgasm crashed over her. Her walls clamped down hard around the head of my cock in rhythmic, fluttering spasms, milking me with surprising strength for someone so new to this.
The sensation was too much—hot, wet, pulsing—and it dragged me right over the edge with her. I buried myself as deep as I dared—one careful, controlled thrust that seated me a little farther into her clenching heat—and came with a low, guttural groan that I pressed into the curve of her shoulder to keep quiet.
Pleasure ripped through me in heavy waves, my cock pulsing hard as I spilled inside her in thick, steady spurts. I kept stroking her clit through it all, gentling my touch as her orgasm slowly ebbed, drawing out every last tremor until she was weak and gasping against the railing.
We stayed locked together, my chest heaving against her back, both of us catching our breath while the morning breeze cooled the sweat on our skin. The mountains stretched out unchanged in front of us, indifferent and beautiful. I eased out of her carefully, a soft sound of protest leaving her throat at the loss. Then I turned her gently in my arms, led her to the wide wicker rocker, and pulled her into my lap so she straddled me, her head tucked against my shoulder, her body soft and spent and warm against mine.
I wrapped my arms around her, one hand stroking slow lines down her bare back. She exhaled—long and loose, the last of the tension leaving her all at once—and settled her weight into me like she'd decided I was somewhere she could stay. I pressed my mouth to her hair and held her there.
I'd come up here to do nothing useful for a week. I was starting to think useful had been the wrong thing to aim for all along.
We sat there naked together, watching the mountains and the glittering river below, the quiet morning wrapping around us like it approved.
Eventually she stirred, gathered her clothes from the porch boards, and slipped back inside. I watched her go and then just sat there a while longer, the mountains doing what mountains did.
5
PANDORA
The bedroom was dim and cool after the brightness of the porch.
I'd come in for water—that was the plan, water and maybe a minute to breathe—and the phone was right where I'd left it on the nightstand, face-down, charging.
The little light on the side pulsed green. Fully charged now. I'd been out there long enough for it to charge completely.
I picked it up.
The screen lit up, and I stood there and counted. Seventeen missed calls. Twenty-three texts. My mother had called six times, which meant she'd moved past worried and into a place I didn't want to think about.
There were numbers I didn't recognize. There were names I hadn't thought about in months—Dane's college roommate, a woman from his office I'd met twice at work functions, a cousin of his who'd been at the rehearsal dinner and laughed too loud at everything.
His whole world, looking for him through me.
I sat down on the edge of the bed.