Page 37 of Red

“We can take our time later,” he cooed like a mourning dove, low and sweet. “Right now, I want it.”

Before I could reply, he took me in again, then sucked his way back up, his tongue tight and hot against me. I watched now, since he’d given me permission to be quick; admired the way his lips stretched around me, the way his eyes fluttered shut like he enjoyed the sensation of me hitting the back of his throat as much as I did. Up and down, building a rhythm, his eyelashes fluttering like dancing moths. And then, he hummed. Moaned.

My cock vibrated. My whole body vibrated, actually. I gripped the tree bark so hard, I pulled some off by accident—and then I started shaking.

Red went down and shook his head slowly from side to side, burying me in him. I tried not to fuck into him, but I lost all sense of time and space as I came, and then came, and then came some more deep inside his hot, wet mouth.

When I finally realized what was happening, he coughed around me, and I pulled out fast. My cock sagged, glistening wet; Red looked up and me and grinned, then dragged the back of his arm over his mouth. “First time for that, huh?” he asked.

I nodded, still gasping for air and hanging onto the tree—and his hair—for my life. “Yes.”

He kissed my upper thigh, almost my hip, and then my hip bone. Then he stood, and I pushed off the tree to give him room. When he reached for me, I fell into him, my legs weak and my body still shivering with aftershocks. He kissed me, sucked my tongue into his mouth, and I wondered at the taste of him now. Mixed with the taste of me, new and sharp and strange. And good.

I reached for his fly, undoing the top button of his jeans, then yanking it open—fully uncaring that my own backside was hanging out in the breeze. I slid my hand into his pants, over his little underwear, and—

He moaned and pulled away with his hips, then laughed. “I came too.”

I shifted down lower, flattening my palm against him and—yes. That was very, very wet and sticky. I flushed with pleasure at the very idea of him enjoying sucking my dick so much that he got off, too. Leaned my forehead against his, and kissed him lightly before saying, “That’s so perfect.”

He kissed me back, longer, slower, less needy yet more intense. He reached out and grabbed my bare ass with both hands, pulling me into him as he leaned against the tree; I situated myself between his legs, so my wet cock rubbed against his shirt and soggy shorts. And we kissed. And then kissed. And kissed some more.

Until we were too thirsty, hungry, and horny all over again to go on.

Early the next morning, we lay tangled on the floor before the hearth—naked but for the bear fur and knitted afghans. Red stretched himself, like a big forest cat in the morning, and I traced lines on his dark, glowy skin where his bruises used to be.

When he stopped stretching, I asked, “Are you showing off for me?”

He grinned. “Yes.”

“Thank you,” I said sincerely.

He laughed and gave a long, contented sigh, turning his face to the fire. “I wanted to be here so bad all month. Did you know it’s my birthday?”

“You’re thirty-one,” I remembered.

“What does it mean, here? Will I age like you, or like I did out there?”

“I suppose we’ll find out.”

“What if I’m not pretty anymore?”

“Impossible,” I replied.

I could tell I’d given the right answer by the way his smile went smug instantly.

“You could go back and forth,” I ventured. “You don’t have to be here always. If you don’t want. I know you have a life out there.”

“I thought about that.” He turned his face back toward me, eying me up and down. “But the more I tried to decide how to split my time between here and there, the more it felt ridiculous.”

“How?”

“I…” But he just chewed on his lower lip as if in deep thought, leaving pale dents in it.

I waited a few moments, enjoying the sight of his skin in the firelight. And after a few more moments of silence, I said, “Maybe start at the beginning.”

He nodded and chewed on his lip some more. Then took a deep inhale before saying, “I quit my job first. Gave two weeks’ notice—even though I don’t really care if I leave them in the lurch. Corporate shills.”

“It’s a big company?”