My impending failure at pleasing her brings a clarity that I didn’t have before and that I don’t much appreciate. Why don’t I just put my knife into her heart? It would be an easier way for her to die than with the devil in my body. I loosen my grip on her hair but to my surprise she doesn’t climb off or move away from my embrace.
“Touch me,” she says. Her voice is hoarse. “I’ll die if you don’t.”
Conflict wars inside me. Does she really need me that badly? I place my hand on her back.
“No, here.” She grabs my hand and places it at her waistband. I may be inexperienced but I’m not dumb. Trembling, I wipe the mud off on my cargo pants. Her skin feels exceptionally soft and very bare. “Keep going,” she whispers as I halt at the place where ordinarily there’s hair on a woman. Instead I encounter no resistance; no soft nest, just bare, bare skin.
Maybe I’m in a porno. Maybe I’m back on the island and I’m having a really intense dream about spy games and planes blowing up and a gorgeous woman wanting me to finger her. At least that’s what this dream girl is indicating. This has to be a dream. Has to. Because it’s too goddamned good.
I close my eyes then so I can keep dreaming, so I can forget, and I let myself slide my fingers lower and then curve them between her soft thighs. She’s sopping wet under the cotton and it’s so easy to press one finger inside her.
We both suck in a sharp breath when I ease my long finger inside her. And then we groan as it is sucked in.
“Another,” she pants.
I slide another finger into her wet, hot depths, and then when she nods, I use one more. The third meets resistance but she bears down and her walls soften to accept me. I brace the heel of my hand against her clit and then slowly thrust my fingers inside. She moans and shivers and whispers encouragement.
It’s just my fingers. I’ll just touch her with my fingers. Nothing else and she’ll be safe.
“Yes, right there. Oh, Rafe, that feels so good.” I curl up and mouth her jawline and then her long, elegant neck down to the erotic curve where the neck becomes shoulder. I can feel her walls tighten and pulse against my fingers. Her own dig into my pectorals, which is its own kind of pleasure.
I move back up to lick the hidden space behind her ear, and her breath hitches and her cunt walls squeeze my fingers tight.
“Faster, Rafe. Harder,” she instructs.
I obey. I plunge my fingers inside hard and fast, setting up a fierce rhythm. She bucks against me, her hips moving rapidly in time with my fingers.
A stronger man than me, one with more experience or maybe just one who had more control, may have been able to withstand all that rubbing and moaning, or the slick feel of her cunt walls squeezing my fingers so tight I wonder if they’ll break off. Then again, if they do, then they’ve been sacrificed at a worthy altar because, Christ, she feels like heaven. And I can’t take it anymore.
I plant my feet flat on the ground and thrust upward, completely out of control. She rides me and my fingers like we’re a bucking bronco ride at the seediest cowboy bar in the most remote part of West Texas.
As my hot seed jets out of me, I throw back my head and roar. Around me her entire body contracts—the thin walls of her cunt, her thighs around my hips, her fingers on my chest. I jerk upright and hold her tight against my body with my one hand and continue jacking her hard and fast, just as she’d asked. Another orgasm rips through her body and she shouts my damn name out louder than the stupid monkeys in the trees.
“Rafe, my God, Rafe!” The echoes of her screams will haunt me and please me in alternating modes for the rest of my life. Her smell is baked into my nose and whenever I’m alone, my fingers will curl in the memory of her smooth cunt and her tight, wet walls. I both hate myself and am ridiculously pleased.
She shudders against me, twitching when I withdraw from her clearly sensitive skin. The desire to throw her down on the ground and bury my face between her legs is overwhelming. I’m tense with the repercussions of what just happened because instead of wanting her less, my cock is immediately hard and wanting more.
The orgasm I just experienced doesn’t leave relief. Oh no. I’m greedy. Fucking her with my tongue would be a good start. Bending her over a rock and pounding her with my cock would be even better.
Roughly I push away and draw a trembling hand down my face. “We’d better get going. Why don’t you wear the jacket until we can mud you up some more.”
“Oh, okay,” she says in a quiet voice.
I’ve hurt her somehow and that makes me feel like shit, but maybe that’s what’s going to get us through this without me throwing her against the first semi-flat surface I can find and fucking her to death. Literally.
I make an impatient movement and she gets the hint and hops off my lap. My shorts are uncomfortable so I tell her to wait while I stumble down the hill again, ostensibly for more mud. But before I slather up, I undo my pants and pull off my shorts to wash in the water. I pull the pants back on and tuck the water-rinsed shorts into my back pocket. I slather up my arms, neck, and face and then return with a handful for Ava.