Rekindling the Flame (Smoky Heights #1)

Chapter 21

TWENTY-ONE

WYATT

“Hey, bear!” I call out.

The adolescent black bear I’ve been watching the last couple minutes gets a little closer than it has up until now. About fifty yards out, give or take, and moving in on us.

Not full-grown, but not young enough to be with its overprotective mama either. Its first couple months on its own, I’d guess. Mildly dangerous if it gets close enough to attack, but not the worst scenario I’ve encountered hiking or camping in the Smokies.

Rory is shaking in my arms, probably still from the aftershocks of her orgasm, but very likely also in fear. There’s a lot of creatures and critters she wouldn’t want to run into out here, but a bear is pretty close to the top of that list. If you thought she was afraid of cats … I mean, she’d probably take a cute bear over something crawling on her—or, God forbid, slithering near her—but if that cute little bear starts clawing at her and trying to eviscerate her, she might change her order real fast.

“Put your pants on,” I tell her, withdrawing my hand from her mouth now that she’s had the chance to gauge the situation for herself. “And we’re going to back away.”

She stands, still a bit shaky, and hops around on one leg at a time, trying her best to get her pants back on, and I’m pretty sure they’re on backwards but I’m not going to try to get her to do more aerobics to fix that now. While she pulls them up over her hips, I stand, grabbing the backpack, then take her hand with my other. She holds her sneakers in her free hand, and we aren’t waiting to put them on right now.

The bear comes closer still and I holler at it, louder this time. It doesn’t stop its approach.

“Walk backwards with me, Ror.” For once, she doesn’t correct me for calling her the wrong name.

I glance behind us every couple of steps, making sure we aren’t going to trip on anything, leading us back toward the trail we came from, the one that takes us back to my truck.

The bear follows for a number of paces, but loses interest, wandering back into the woods across the clearing, nose high in the air, sniffing.

As soon as our backs are past the wood line we turn around and make a break for it, dashing for the truck. The sun is just starting to set, sinking beneath the peaks on the horizon, but in late October that doesn’t give us a whole lot of daylight left to get somewhere safe.

As we run, she finds the breath and the mental wherewithal to start yelling, which is a little impressive, I have to say.

“Did you really eat me out with a bear behind me?”

“Not the whole time,” I say, leaping over a log and gripping her hand in mine to make sure she’s secure with those bare feet.

“We can probably stop to put your shoes on now,” I offer.

“Probably?” she screeches. “We’re probably not going to die if we stop to put on my shoes?”

Hard to shake my head while jogging for our lives, but I manage to make it work. I try again. “We’re fine to put on your shoes now.”

“I’d rather survive, thanks,” she shoots back, but I can tell it’s hurting her. “Can we go back to the part where you let me lay there getting tongue fucked while a fucking bear considered making a meal out of us both?”

“That’s an exaggeration,” I tell her. “It wasn’t that big of a bear. It might’ve eaten one of us, no way it was gonna get both of us. I mean, it might’ve attacked us both, but no way it was going to eat both of us.”

“WYATT!” she shrieks.

“Bad time for a joke,” I admit. “Listen, I had my eye on it. It only showed up around the time your legs started shaking, and I took my chances. I’d rather face a black bear than you if I didn’t finish what I’d started there. I don’t regret my choice.”

“You’re—ow—such a fucking—ow—jackass—ow.”

It really doesn’t hold the same punch when it’s punctuated with all those noises of distress.

Aurora tries to keep going, but I wrap my arms around her waist and lift her from the ground, stopping her mid-stride. She wiggles and grumbles, and somehow my dick didn’t go completely flaccid from the bear incident—the taste of her still on my tongue is probably to blame—so what she’s doing isn’t very comfortable for me.

“I’m a jackass who has his priorities straight, now would you mind not breaking my dick while I’m rescuing your feet?”

“My feet don’t need rescuing!” she says indignantly.

It’s not lost on me how the younger version of me would’ve taken her bait any number of times today, gotten heated, gotten pissed, and blown up over at least one of the ridiculous arguments she’s started (or tried to). The version of me that’s lived twelve years without her isn’t taking her for granted. I know how special this connection between the two of us is, not just the physical one, and yeah, she might be high-maintenance, and she has a bratty streak that’s a mile wide, but she’s fucking magnificent, and completely worth every ounce of trouble she brings to my life. Wish I realized it back then, showed her a little better the lengths I’d go to for her.

“I am not letting you get hurt on my watch. If you aren’t putting these shoes back on your feet, Aurora Rose Weiss, I’ll carry you.”

“Sure,” she grumbles. “Now you’re worried for my safety, just not when there’s a literal bear behind me, ready to strike.”

“Believe me, I wasn’t gonna let that thing eat you.” I pause, then add, “Only I get to eat you.” My mischievous smirk isn’t winning her over, so I hike her up so she’s wrapped around my front and start to carry her back to the car, chuckling at her mumbling as we go.

This woman is beautiful—more so than ever—headstrong, so damn brilliant, capable, witty, and a mouth I love just as much when she’s using it to start shit as when she’s sucking me off with it. She’s a custom creation, all her finishes are after-market, no one else like her, not in the Heights, not in that city of eight million she’s so fond of, nowhere. I used to think she was custom made for me, but now I see how high she flew, all the ways she grew without me, and I know there’s someone much better for her than my grumpy ass. Some other lucky asshole who will get the privilege of maintaining her. With a job that allows him to afford the things she deserves, the life she wants. He won’t be a mechanic from a small town whose best years are behind him, I know that much.

If I’d known what my future would’ve looked like without her in it, I would’ve grown up a lot fucking faster to be the man she needed way back when. But I didn’t. So all I can be is the man she needs now. For the next however many months she’s in town. And then let her go again because she found what she was looking for. A life without me.

She lived out her dream, she got the fancy degrees, the job she always prayed for, she’s doing everything she set out to. Me? I’m still the same schlump I always was, just seventy percent more miserable now. But I’ll be damned if I’m not gonna put the effort in while she’s here now, even if it’s the equivalent of signing my own death warrant. I’ve seen what else is out there, I’ve lived both sides of the tracks. Going back to the other side might suck, but for now, I’ll take what I can get from her, while I can get it. And right now, that’s rough sex, the dirtier the better.

As for when she leaves, well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I survived once before. I can do it again. As long as I don’t lose sight of the fact that this is just sex for her. I’m just being what she needs. Her escape, the distraction she needs to stay safe from her mind doing those cruel little things it does to her when she’s alone with it for too long.

And if some nosy fuck like Weston were to ask, do I feel better when I’m with her? I’d say, maybe, but that’s not important and fuck right off, thank you kindly.

By the time we make it back to the truck, her arms around my neck, legs slung around my waist, she’s shaking in my arms, her rapid breaths hitting my neck. She still smells like cider. I crane my head back to try to see her face, gauge what’s happening right now, but she buries it further in my shoulder. Her sounds go from muffled and muted to full-volume as I watch her, assessing, and soon I realize it’s her laughter that is raining around us, filling the empty dirt lot with the mirthful, tinkling sound.

Leaning forward I put her back down on the ground, but Rory doesn’t stop laughing. She backs against the truck for support and howls, peals of laughter splitting the night sky. It might be the best thing I’ve ever heard.

Unrestrained, uninhibited, unencumbered by how difficult these last couple months and the next ones will be. Just the pure sound of someone enjoying the life they’re living. More carefree in this moment than I’ve seen her, even since before she left, probably.

It’s infectious, contagious, and I’ve shared in everything else with this girl, I might as well share in this too. My head falls back, and a sound I haven’t heard in so long I don’t even recognize it comes out.

Laughter, uproarious, uncontrolled, wild, and robust, the kind of sound I didn’t know my soul still had enough juice left in me to make.

Minutes, maybe longer, we spend in the moment. Doubled over, eyes streaming, cheeks hurting, neither of us able to get words out.

“My—” she finally gasps, “—bra!”

I realize what she’s trying to say, that her bra was left behind, still in the field back there, and the idea seems funnier than usual, sending me into another round, a fresh burst that kicks the whole thing off all over again.

They say it’s medicine for the soul, and I’m not sure I ever knew what the great, all-knowing they meant until this moment.

You can seal over an open wound that won’t (or can’t) close. I’ve heard about it being done, Shawn’s told us more than we wanted to know about patients who’ve had the procedure. A sterile covering that goes over the gap in your chest after open heart surgery. Sure, it protects the insides. But you can’t walk around like that and pretend you’re whole. It’s a surrogate for the real thing, a temporary fix, but you won’t be able to truly live like that.

That’s what it’s felt like these past twelve years.

This might be the first moment it’s felt like my chest is whole in all this time.

I knew it was there, knew the handicap I was living with, but it’s been part of me so long, I forgot what it felt like to live as a whole person.

To enjoy life, the one you’re with, to fuck, and laugh, and run for your life. The shit all the best memories are made of.

We’ve checked two of the three off.

Time to make another core memory with this girl. Lord knows she’s in all my best ones already.

As the laughter dies down, the tension between us, ever-present, crackles to life, the heat rising.

We’re two of those substances we learned about in chemistry (when we were flirting instead of paying attention) where they’re room temperature on their own, but you put them together and it’s instant heat. They start to boil and bubble over from proximity alone, and will ignite if left close to one another. Lightning sparking in a jar, the shit that defies common sense.

She is what makes me this way, it’s only for her that I get like this. There’s something in our molecules, something in our chemical makeup that makes us respond to one another in the way we do. That makes anything with her so much better than it’s been with anyone else.

When she wipes her eyes, dries the second set of tears I’ve seen of hers in recent memory, and our eyes catch, she feels the shift in my mood, the way I need her. It’s inexplicable, and consuming. I need her body, the connection to life that I get only from her, I need it more than I need this oxygen surrounding me. So I take it.

I grab her face with one hand, grasp her cheeks to hold her in place while I sweep the other around her back and pull her in for a deep kiss. My tongue probes her mouth, plunging, searching, claiming. The spicy flavor of cider greets me, and she groans when she registers what my tongue tastes like. Her. Still my favorite flavor.

One arm still holding her up, I remove the other one from between our bodies and use it to unlock the truck and then open the back door clumsily. I toss the backpack in first, which thumps against the footwell, cushioned by the mat. Precious cargo in there, couldn’t leave that behind. Grab her shoes from her hand and lob those in too.

We fumble, not willing to break apart, but trying to get inside the backseat all the same. It takes us a few tries, finally I hoist her up so she’s perched on the upholstered seat, legs spread, me between them. She’s tall up there like this, nearly my height, and it lets us keep this kiss going, but I need more. We both do.

I step up onto the side bar, never breaking contact between our mouths, tongues still dancing, lips and hands roving restlessly, until I can fit the rest of my body into the cab with hers. Too tall to kneel upright in here, but I can work with this, hunching over her. Takes some work to make it all happen while never parting our lips, but I get her pushed up, further across the bench seats, manage to close the door behind me and lock us in using the key fob in my pocket.

Finally pull my mouth away from those swollen lips of hers to kiss down her jaw, her neck, that throat, until the hoodie blocks my path further down. She shivers from the scrape of my beard against her soft skin, so fragrant with that scent that’s only ever belonged to her. Feminine, musky but soft—like a less concentrated version of how she tastes—I hope I never forget the way it lights me up again.

Manage to pull the hoodie up and over her head, she helps me disentangle herself from the long arms of the thing, and it lands in the footwell. Her shirt is next, and then (with some effort), those pants of hers that I’m still pretty sure she put on backwards during our great escape, along with her underwear.

Then I get to take a moment to soak in the sight of her. Bare beneath me, she’s so much more everything in person than she’s been in my mind when it gets to remembering her. Gorgeous, soft, alluring. She’s changed, with time, some bits are bigger—like her tits, those lips that are calling to me—and some are a bit softer. I want to dive in and get reacquainted with all of her. Cover her body with mine until neither of us can remember what it was like to not be merged as one.

Reach back to grab the collar of my shirt at the back of the neck and peel if off with one hand, toss it down with the rest of her clothes, and it’s tricky as hell to get these pants and boxer briefs off in this tight space, but I manage to kick my shoes off and do it.

Her eyes lock on my chest, my stomach, and then they fall down, past the V that’s gotten more carved out with time, down to my cock, reaching out for her, needing to be inside her.

“Fuck, you’re hot.” The words come out like an objection, like she’ll be speaking to management about that, maybe draft a formal complaint, or even propose legislation.

“You’re one to talk,” I tell her, gripping beneath her thigh and sliding her back down toward me just enough. Her long hair, still in that ponytail, fans out behind her, around her head, like spilled light in the dark truck, teasing me. “Look at these tits, like the rest of you wasn’t enough. Had to go and remind me what perfection looks like.”

Her brown eyes heat, promise and intention leaking out of them as she watches me. She brings her hands up, running them up the slight curve of her stomach, testing my patience. My eyes follow as they go up, up, over her ribcage and scaling the peaks of her breasts. Her fingertips toy with the stiff buds there, rosy and ready for my mouth, my firm grip.

She’s had enough fun. It’s my turn.

I lean forward, sucking the soft skin around her nipple into my mouth, teasing, grazing as I circle the bud there, her squirming beneath me. Let the torment get to her, kiss and pull at everywhere but where she wants me to until she’s whining unintelligibly, shoving at my shoulders and head with her hands, and then I give in with a dark chuckle. Wrap my lips around her nipple, use my teeth to scrape the sensitive skin there and relish in the way she writhes beneath me when I do. The tip of my tongue flicks out across her pebbled skin, and she squirms again, legs spreading wider with a moan.

“Fuck, Grady.” Damn. Rory only calls me that when she’s worked up. Good sign.

Using my mouth for suction, I pull on her nipple until it releases with a smacking sound. I can feel my dick leaking, but he needs to wait his turn. Knowing how wet this is making her, how needy that cunt is right now, the way she’s crawling out of her skin, ready to explode as soon as I give her the first bit of pressure she’s craving, it’s exactly what I need right now. What can I say? I like to play as much as I like to watch her legs shake, sometimes more.

Swapping sides, I pay equal attention to her other nipple, teasing, nipping, and pulling at her most sensitive parts. Her hips buck at first, and then she starts to roll them, wrapping her legs around my thigh and grinding against it. The feel of her slick pussy sliding against my skin is the breaking point for me. It’s what makes me snap.

“You’re ready for me, Hellcat. As ready as you’re getting,” I grind out.

Sitting back up as much as I can, my ass rests on my heels, still hunched over her a bit. Aurora follows me, sitting up with me, running a hand down my chest, the smattering of hair there. She lets it drag down, across my clenched abs, and I lean over to grab the backpack with the condoms. Couldn’t leave those behind in the wild bear mauling, as she’ll undoubtedly refer to it from here on out.

Fumble around with the zipper, my hand digging around in the spacious compartment to find the single foil floating somewhere at the bottom. Around the same time my fingertips make contact with the square package, her fingers make contact with my package. I hiss through my teeth on a sharp inhale as she circles my cock with one finger, teasing me. Aurora drags the tip of her finger through the wetness on the tip of my dick, swirling it around, then encircling my cock with her entire hand. My hips jerk suddenly, pushing into her fist, and she groans at the way my cock forces her fingers to widen as it moves through them. When I make it back to her with the condom in hand, her lips are parted, gaze dripping with need.

“That’s enough foreplay,” I tell her. “I’m going to wreck your pussy now.” I have a promise to live up to, after all. “Gonna wreck you for all those pretty boys back in New York.”

“God, please.” Her breaths are heavy in my ear, the hot little puffs driving me almost as crazy as her hand is. “I’m on the shot,” she pants out, fingers wrapped around me and working me in wicked ways already. “And I’m clean.”

“I’d fuck you anyway,” I tell her honestly. “Nothing other than the word no would stop me from getting inside of you right now. But I’m clean too.” I press the words into her shoulder, eyes screwed up from the feel of her tight fist around me, needing more, and fast. “And in the spirit of honesty, I can’t get you pregnant.”

She stops stroking me, eyes finding mine in confusion.

“I had a vasectomy.”

The words hang. We don’t unpack it. There are no follow-up questions. She thinks it over briefly, then takes the condom from my hand, ripping it out of my fingers. I watch, waiting for her to use her teeth to open the foil, make a show out of pinching the tip and rolling it down my shaft like she always would back when we used condoms. Instead, she chucks it to the side, lets it fly somewhere in the front seat, and says, “Bareback it is.”

Then she lays back, pulls her knees to her chest, and uses her fingers to spread herself for me. All that perfect pink wetness is ready for me, waiting. Fuck the sunset, she’s gotta be the Lord’s best work.

Instead of letting out the groan brewing in my chest, I fist the base of my cock and stare at her, open and ready for me. “Think you can still take all of me, Hellcat?”

“Let’s find out,” she moans.

“Gonna make sure you take it all,” I promise her, and then I’m moving forward, fitting the tip into her waiting center.

Our hands brush, hers parting her lips, mine guiding my cock into her, and somehow it feels so personal in that touch, the way our knuckles skim one another’s as I slide through the wetness waiting for me there. Our eyes catch, and so does her breath as I push the head in, past the resistance, and notch myself in as far as I can go.

“Stop clenching,” I force out through a tight jaw.

“I’m not,” she pants.

“Let me in, Hellcat, relax,” I try again.

“Yeah, because telling a woman to relax has worked exactly NEVER out of the infini—JESUS!”

Her bitching at me gets interrupted when I pinch her nipple roughly right as I flex my hips forward, able to push a good halfway in on that one thrust thanks to her body’s immediate response.

“Oh God,” she moans, legs falling open, muscles finally relaxing.

With a final tweak, I pull my hand off her nipple and move it up to clasp around her throat instead. I can feel her hum and groan against my hand, the vibration there, and sure enough, there’s less resistance when I piston my hips forward, finally able to get all the way in and bottom out inside her. There’s that gasp I’ve been waiting for.

Her brown eyes go wide, thick brows stretched high as I stretch her out for me, remind her what it feels like to be completely, thoroughly filled. I can see the thousand unsaid words in them now, all the things she wants to moan, wants to scream, wants to beg me to do to her, but she doesn’t need to ask. For now, she can soak it all in, the way I’m trying to. I’ll do my best to short-circuit that incredible mind of hers, keep it from taking away from this moment for her.

Leaning forward over her, I pull my hips back until just the tip is left inside of her, and then slam them forward again, filling her completely, wrapping myself in the best kind of warmth on this planet. Better than a stomach full of whiskey or sitting in front of a bonfire when you’re camping, being sunk inside of Aurora is as good as it gets. Her walls tighten around me on the second thrust, and I let out a noise against her chest to tell her what that feels like.

Her throat flutters against the grip of my hand as she struggles to take in enough air to keep up with her heartbeat. I kiss the spot where her heart is doing overtime and release her throat to let her get the oxygen her body needs to withstand what I’m about to put it through.

“Isn’t this how we did this the first time?” She barely gets the words out, but if she’s still able to joke, then I’m not doing my job right. She’s not wrong, though. The back of my truck. Out in the woods somewhere no one will find us. Me, balls deep inside of her. That was a first for both of us. All these years later, she’s still the best I ever had. Now I’m gonna make sure she feels the same.

“I think you screamed a lot more the first time,” I tell her, deadpan.

“You split me open, then gave me my first vaginal orgasm. What did you expect?”

“Kinda thought you might be screaming by now,” I say through clenched teeth.

“So make me,” she taunts me.

“Fucking hell, woman.” Always gotta give me a hard time. There’s never an easy route with her. But if she wants me to make her scream, I’ll do her one better. I’ll shut her up for once.

I pull back and slam my hips forward again, but she’s so damn tight I can hardly keep my focus.

“Did you get bigger?” Aurora asks in a strained voice.

“Did you get tighter?” I shoot back.

“I’m—” she pants, but the words don’t come out.

I pull back and push forward into her again, but I can feel it already. What she’s trying to say. She’s close. I knew she’d be like this. So turned on by the time we got started, she’d be milking me within seconds.

She arches her back, those taut nipples staring at me, begging for the little bit of attention they need to finish her again already.

Her pussy grabs me as I pull out of her again, and push my way back in, tilting her hips up with my hands to give me the angle I need to hit her front wall on the way.

Aurora screams out a curse and her eyes roll back, and I can’t decide which I prefer. Getting to fuck her the way I’ve been craving or watching her come again. Guess it’s a good thing I can do both at once.

Wrapping a hand under her thigh, I hitch her leg up and bring it to my hip, and she wraps it around me, pulling me close with it.

“You gonna come again?” I grunt out, and she tilts her head a fraction of an inch in a nod.

My hips slam into hers again, her heel pressed into my ass, my pelvic bone flush against her, rubbing her clit with each thrust. Maxed out, but she still wants more, this greedy woman. Tilt my hips, grind into her a bit more and when I feel her start to tip over the edge, I slap the side of her breast. Give it a sharp clip that glances off her nipple as I do, watch it ripple through her, and I can see what the jolt of it does to her. Feel it for myself with how she clenches down.

Rory gasps, eyes wide as the sensation hits her, and it topples her over. Her eyes close, mouth wide, chest heaving in bursts of heavy breaths as I continue to work myself in and out of her, up and along that front wall with each thrust as she free falls. Don’t let up, keep my hips working, driving into her as she shudders, as I feel her walls tighten and clench, trying to suck my own release out of me, but nice try. I’m gonna make this last a hell of a lot longer for the both of us than a minute or two. Her pussy floods me as she keeps coming, and I do what a good man does, and don’t fucking stop.

One hand reaches out to play with her nipple, while the other holds the top of the seat for support. She gasps and moans, but seems like that speechless thing is working as I keep pulling and tweaking her nipple, harder than most women can take it, and she shudders through the rest of her orgasm.

“Goddamn, you’re a dirty fuck, Rory,” I tell her.

“Don’t,” she starts to say, but she struggles to get the words out, even if her eyes are open again. She can’t even tell me not to call her that, and I’d call that a job well done on my part.

“When it’s my cock inside of you, I’ll call you what I want,” I smirk at her. “Aurora. Rory . Dirty fucking girl.”

Her eyes roll back again at that, and I can feel the tremors still rocking through her. She likes that more than she wants to.

“Is that what you want to hear?” I ask her. “How bad you are?” She moans again, her pussy clenching down on me yet again. “So proper for everyone else, Aurora, but such a filthy girl for me. Imagine if everyone in New York could see you now, knees to your ears in the back of my truck, covered in sweat and cum. My cock halfway to your ribs. Pussy dripping all over these seats for me and the nasty shit I can do to you. They don’t know that this is where you belong. But I do, Rory. And I’ll fucking remind you. You might belong in a boardroom by day, but at night? You should be on your back, beneath me.”

She nods, eyes, face frantic, desperate for more from me. So I give it to her. Pound into her, hand around her knee, holding her wide for me as I show her what it feels like to be fucked by the one that got away.

My movements are rough, jagged, filled with a dozen years of resentment, and what ifs. Of knowing that we could’ve worked out, if she’d just tried. If she’d told me what was going on instead of never giving me the chance to make it right. My hips slam into hers, my balls smack against her ass, and it’s rough, it’s an ugly sound, but it’s what we need. Her whimpers fill the cab, the slapping of our skin, but I don’t let up on her.

“Make sure that every fucking time you even think of the Heights, of where you come from, it’s me you feel, still lodged inside you. My cock splitting you open like this. How hard you come when it’s me that’s making you.”

“Oh God,” she moans out in between staggered breaths. “Harder, Grady,” she demands, pleads with me.

“I’d love to. It’d be easier if your pussy wasn’t strangling me.”

“It’s just self-defense from that monster of yours impaling me,” she claps back. I’d laugh at her determination to start shit with me no matter where we are or what we’re doing if I weren’t so busy, sweat dripping down my brow at the concentration it’s taking to not fill her up with my cum already. She huffs out something like a scoff at some realization she’s had. “Jesus we can’t even fuck without fighting,” she says tightly, in between thrusts.

“You call this fighting?” I ask her, heavy breaths between the words. “Nah, Hellcat, this is just what fucking is supposed to be like. It’s called passion. Fire.” I illustrate my point with a sharp slap of my hips against hers, and she grunts involuntarily in response, walls clenching around me. “You’d rather have boring missionary with some wet noodle who gets hard over spreadsheets and calls you pumpkin, you know where to go. You wanna feel alive, get what you need, it’s me you come to.”

Her eyes meet mine, and she tilts her head away almost immediately.

“This is too personal,” she whispers. “Too much like old times.”

I withdraw, pulling out of her and missing the heat and tightness of her instantly, but I’ve lived without it for this long. I can last a few seconds.

“Fine by me,” I mutter, turning her over so she’s on her knees before shoving her forward roughly. She falls forward and catches herself on the door, but doesn’t look back, just pushes her ass back toward me, waiting for more.

Shake my head at her efforts to keep me out, like it’s gonna help if she isn’t watching me. She’ll feel me so deep inside her I’ll be imprinted in her fucking soul for another seventeen years, the way she is on mine. But I’ll humor her, and I’ll get my second favorite view while I’m at it.

Use both hands to spread her ass cheeks apart—take in that image to keep me warm on lonely nights, both her holes on display for me—and line myself up with her entrance again. She’s had enough warming up, now it’s my turn to take what I need.

When I slam my hips forward, fronts of my thighs slapping the backs of hers, Aurora screams out at the feel of me invading her from this new, deeper angle and falls forward again, but my arms wrap around her to catch her this time. Both of us leaned a bit forward beneath the roof of the cab, I drive into her over and over again, holding her in place so she can’t help but to take every inch I’m giving her. No mercy for how hard I’m fucking her, just like she had no mercy on me when she fucked us both by leaving.

I tilt my torso back a bit to make sure I capture a visual to go with this moment, the way she’s so tight around me I can barely hold out. Turns out, watching her stretch and mold to the shape of my cock makes it even better, because that image nearly sends me over the edge.

“Fuck, Aurora. You should see you, trying to take me.”

She whimpers, and I feel her pussy flutter around me. I wrap myself around her torso once again, left arm slung over her shoulder so I can grasp a breast in my hand roughly as my right hand sneaks around her hip and holds her pussy from the front as I continue to pound into her. Her moans encourage me, like the audience singing along at a concert, she feeds me the fuel I need to give her my best performance, all of my energy going into this moment.

“Should you get to come again?” I ask her, lips against the shell of her ear. Her sweat-soaked hair invades my nose, my mouth, and I couldn’t give a fuck. Give her nipple a firm pinch and relish in the way her walls clamp down on me as it hits her. “The way I see it, you’ve been a fucking brat the whole time we’ve had this little arrangement between us. Seems fair to me if you’re the one who gets left on the edge this time. Leave this pussy soaking, clit begging for more with my cum dripping out of you. That way, even if you give in and finish yourself off, it’ll still be me you feel there.”

Her unintelligible moans and whimpers grow louder and she moves her hips faster, more frantically, chasing her next release, like the insatiable fuck she’s always been. The threat of not getting more enough to make her work even harder for it, prove she deserves another orgasm.

“So eager for my cum, so fucking thirsty, aren’t you, Rory?”

Her torso is pressed to mine, back to front, our skin slick with sweat, and she nods against my shoulder, the back of her head rolling in her delirious state, nothing but need right now, high on my dick, this magic shit that we make together, so desperate for another fix while she still has the chance.

“What will you do for it?” I ask her. “Will you get back on your knees and suck the taste of you off of my cock until my cum is down your throat?”

She whines, and I move my fingers from her nipple to shove two into her mouth, as far back as they’ll go.

“Show me,” I growl into her ear, my punishing thrusts maintaining their brutal pace as I get closer and closer.

Rory sucks on my fingers, using her tongue to tease me, show me what a good girl she can be when you give her a reason, and I yank them out again, use the spit on my fingers, spread it around her nipple and keep plucking at it harder as I fuck her.

“Or maybe I should pull out and come all over your back?”

More noises from this girl, meaningless, mindless babble instead of a tongue lashing, from the one who has words for days, even in the worst of times.

“Fucked the lawyer right out of you, didn’t I, Hellcat? You got nothing to say now? That pretty tongue too busy to give me hell?”

My name seems to be the best she can do. “Wyatt,” she moans, and it’s in that panicked tone that’s her version of a warning. She’s going to come whether I want her to or not. Might as well join her. Stop holding it off and lean into the pleasure, the way she’s gripping me as I slide in and out of her, her soft heat the best thing my cock’s ever been privileged to.

“Gonna come so hard you’re gonna feel it hit the back of your throat, Rory. You ready?”

She turns her face sharply, finally looking back at me, and she doesn’t second guess her instinct. Aurora leans in and captures my mouth with hers, nothing demure about it. Her mouth isn’t closed, it’s not sweet or cute, she sucks my fucking tongue into her mouth as her first move, and the feel of her mouth on mine, the way she’s sucking on my tongue the way I’d love to feel her just about anywhere on my body, it’s all I can take.

I make sure she falls with me, using my arm that’s still around her chest to pinch her nipple the same time the calloused first finger and thumb of my other hand pinch her clit. I’m about as gentle as she’s being with her mouth, and I can feel her soft scream that’s absorbed by my mouth, but the result is instantaneous. She’s shaking, coming, falling apart at the seams, and if my arms weren’t holding her up, I’m all but certain she’d melt into the cushion of the seat itself. As it is, I hold her up, keeping our pelvises aligned as I thrust into her, letting go myself.

My balls tighten, tingles shooting up from the base of my spine and throughout my system as I pump her full of my load when I thought I’d never get the chance again. The feel of both of our releases embracing my cock—hers slick and mine sticky—as I continue driving into her is a memory for the mental safe deposit box. Her tongue in my mouth, lips pressed to mine, tits in my hand, pussy gripping me for all its worth, those are all getting stored right in there with it.

We pull back, ending the kiss as I pull out of her and she shudders, goosebumps all along her skin.

“Okay, I think that might’ve been a little better than our first time,” she admits breathlessly, and I’m shocked to hear myself laugh again. Even after she’s drained me, run me dry, she’s managed to put another rare hint of a smile on my face.

“Yeah,” I agree. “Just imagine what it’ll be like when we’re not out of practice together.”

Now I just get to convince myself I won’t miss the way this is with her, that Hallie at the bar feels just as good, that I can live without sex like this every night for the rest of my life. Only took me how many years to convince myself of it the first time? Should be able to do it again, right?