Page 23 of One-Track Pride

This is nothing like the shelter above the pass. There's no avalanche roaring in my ears now. There's only her mouth on mine, unhurried, deliberate, a decision instead of a reflex. I let her set the pace, and push my jacket off, her palms map bruises that have already faded to nothing under her fingers.

"You heal too fast," she murmurs against my throat. "It's genuinely unfair."

"Complaints go to management."

"I am management."

I laugh, low, and she swallows the sound. When I lift her onto the workbench her knees bracket my hips, hands tight in my shirt until I strip it off for her. Firelight sparkles over her collarbone, over the pulse jumping at her throat. I take my time with her. I let myself want this one thing purely for my own sake, without sparing a single thought for who I'm supposed to be guarding.

"Van." She catches my chin, tips my face up. "Stay with me. Don't disappear into your own head."

"I'm here," I mean it more completely than I've meant anything in years.

I slide my hands under the hem of her shirt and lift it straight over her head. The fabric catches for a second on her wrists before it falls away. Firelight moves across her bare skin. I unhook her bra and drag the straps down her arms, letting it drop. My mouth finds the slope of one breast, and I close my lips around her nipple and suck hard, tongue pressing flat against it. She arches into me, and I switch sides, teeth grazing the other peak before I soothe it with slow pulls.

Her hands work my belt open, and she pushes my pants down far enough to free my cock. Her fingers wrap around me and stroke once, firm and deliberate. Heat spikes through me, and I push her back until she lies flat on the bench. I yank her pants down along with her in one pull and toss them aside. She's open to me now, thighs parted, pussy already wet.

I drag two fingers through her, spreading the slickness. Then I push them inside her. She clenches around the intrusion. I curl them upward and work a steady rhythm while my thumb circles her clit. My other hand pins her hip to the wood so she can't rock away from the pressure. I lean down and take her nipple between my teeth again, biting a little that makes her gasp. The dual sensation pulls a low sound from her throat, and I keep the pace relentless until her legs tremble and her pussy pulses hard around my fingers.

"Fuck…" she moans, and comes with her head tipped back, and her breath breaking.

I pull my fingers free and lick them clean, and I hook my hands under her knees and drag her to the bench edge so her ass hangs just off it. I free my cock fully, kicking my pants away. The head nudges against her entrance, and I push in slow, watching every inch disappear. She's tight and hot, walls gripping me as I pull back and forth. I feel her adjust as I thrust in each time.

I drive back in and every time I go harder. The bench creaks under us, and her hands fist the wood. I lean over her, bracing one palm beside her head, and fuck her with steady power. I shift the angle, tilting her hips higher so every stroke drags against the spot that makes her cry out.

I keep the rhythm hard, but not quite losing control yet. She lifts her head and watches where we're joined. The sight of my cock sliding in and out of her pushes me closer. She reaches and presses her fingers to her clit, rubbing, matching the pace of my hips. Her thighs tighten around my waist, and she stares into my eyes. I groan, and lean down kissing her as she plays with herself and fuck her.

Her throat lets out a cry, then goes silent as another orgasm hits her hard. Her pussy clamps down, pulsing in waves that try to pull me over with her.

I fuck her through it, thrusts turning rougher as the last of my restraint slips. My free hand grips her hip hard which will likely leave marks. I drive deep and stay there for a beat, grinding, then pull almost out and slam in again. The pleasure in my gut coils tight. I can feel the edge coming. I drop my forehead to her shoulder and chase it, cock pounding into her without mercy now.

"Camille." I groan, low against her skin.

My cock jerks hard inside her in thick pulses, and I keep moving through it until my knees I have no choice but to slow. I stay inside her a moment longer, breathing hard against her neck. Then I ease out carefully. My legs unsteady, and I help her sit up and pull her off the bench. We sit against the side of the workbench, shoulders touching, both still trying to get our breathing under control. Camille tips her head back against the wood and closes her eyes, a tired smile pulling at her mouth. I reach for her discarded shirt and hand it over, then drag my own clothes closer with one foot. We don’t immediately bother getting dressed. We just sit there in the firelight, knees bumping, warm and spent and ridiculously pleased with ourselves.

"When the mountain's safe," I say into her hair, "I want to find out what this is. No explosions, no wreckage. Just us, figuring it out like regular people."

"We're not regular people."

"You know what I mean."

She turns in my arms until we're face to face. "I want that too, but I'm not going to promise you I'll move to Stonehaven, or quit my job, or rebuild my life just yet. I want to make the choice."

"Okay." The strange part is how little it costs me to say it. "I'm not asking you to decide tonight. I'm asking you not to run before you've decided at all."

"That," she says softly, "I can do."

I could hold onto this exact minute forever. That's how I know it won't hold.

The wind shifts against the shelter, and it drags something under the clean cold of the snow, oil, scorched metal, and beneath both a chemical bite I recognize from the blast site above the tracks. Every muscle in me pulls tight.

"Van?" Camille sits up. "What is it?"

"Get dressed."

I'm already moving, hauling my clothes on, the human part handing the reins to the lion before I've finished lacing my boots. "Stay inside. Bar the door behind me."

"Evander…"