Cort keeps his eyes on my lower body, watching as he dips the wand in and out of me. My legs tremble. My fingers fisting the sleeping bag once more.
“You don’t have to?—”
“You’re gonna come again,” he demands, grit and grizzle to his voice. Sheer determination to make it happen a second time.
“If I touched you, would you sting or melt like honey?” he asks, moving the vibrator faster. “Would you want me to fuck your pussy or make love to you?”
“Oh Jesus,” I mutter, a spiral building inside me again. Bees in a frenzy to be set free to explore the world.
“Makes no difference to me, just let me be your plaything, Vale. Use me for your needs.”
The thought alone brings me up short, and I fling over the edge once again. My legs straighten. My head turns. I grip the edge of his shirt, the onehe’swearing, holding on as sweet release drips from me. Not as powerful as the first but a cleansing drizzle of relief, nonetheless.
Spent, my body sags, legs wide, while my hand lets go of Cort’s shirt.
He pulls the wand from my body and shuts it off, tossing it toward the end of the bed for now. Then he climbs back over me, balancing on all fours above me.
“I mean it, Bee. Use me for good.”
I could argue that he doesn’t like to be touched and my desire to be caressed are at odds, but I chew my lower lip instead.
“Like I said, maybe it was never the right hands on me.” He seeks my hand and lifts it, pressing a kiss to the tips of my fingers. “Maybe we could help each other.”
My heart soars, and I shouldn’t like the feeling. Shouldn’t allow the hitch in my breath. Shouldn’t even consider the possibility of something more with Cort.
But right now, I’m honey-drunk, on a self-imposed Cortland-high and wiped out from a double orgasm. A fantasy come to life.
“I’d like that.”
21
[Cort]
On the second night of camp, I find my way to Vale’s cabin despite how tired I am. Our team’s enthusiasm has run me ragged but as I near the small lodge with Vale inside, my energy revives.
After a soft knock, Vale answers the door. “Lost, coach?” she teases.
She has no idea how lost I’ve been.
I don’t answer, other than skipping up the two steps and gently forcing her back into the room. Once the door is closed and locked, my hands are in her hair and my mouth against her lips, desperate like the starving man I’ve become. When I called Vale a craving, one I was certain wouldn’t be satiated after one taste, I wasn’t wrong. I have a sweet tooth for her.
For the longest time, I refused to kiss women. The intimacy was too much. No lips. No excessive handsy foreplay. Flip herover and do my thing. Easier to compartmentalize then. The defense mechanism was a way to keep my ex out of my mind.
But this is Vale. My sweet honeybee. A fucking queen. And I have ideas on how to give her pleasure. I want to please her.
Guiding her backward, I press her to sit on the lower bunk. Not exactly the most romantic location, but something about the rustic space renews my spirit. Like I’m a kid again, while not truly being a child.
“Still stealing my clothing, I see,” I tease about her wearing my flannel shirt again. She still has my straw cowboy hat. If I’m not careful this little thief might make off with a few other items belonging to me. For now, I’m here to steal from her. Her kisses. Her breath. Her orgasms.
Vale chuckles while tugging the shirt forward. Whether she planned to give me a peek of her breasts or not, a hint is there. No bra again tonight. She isn’t wearing pants right now either.
When I kneel in front of her on the hardwood floor, I rub my hands up her outer thighs, skimming all the way to her hips to discover no underwear.
“Expecting me?” I arch a brow.
Vale shrugs, lowering her gaze. “Hoping.”
Damn. I do not miss the extra blip in my heart rate. I also don’t want to disappoint her. From what she’s told me, I already have, along with every other guy she’s ever been with. I’m determined to be the exception.
