Chapter sixteen

GRACE CHAMBERS

Hiking through Grandfather Mountain on a Thursday evening isn’t exactly what I had in mind when Jameson picked me up from work and asked me on an impromptu date.

But as I take in the colorful wildflowers and lush green vegetation along our trail, I’m thankful for the opportunity to interact with nature. The mountains have always had a calming effect for me and the addition of Jameson only amplifies it.

I love any time we spend together. But this setting is especially nice.

Watching the powerful muscles in his legs shift as we climb higher is the highlight of my day so far.

He’s so damn sexy. Effortlessly.

“You okay back there?” he calls out, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

“Mhmm,” I reply, trying to keep up with his long strides.

“Are you sure?” he sounds skeptical. “You’re mighty quiet.”

“Just enjoying the view, Mr. Wilcox.”

My smile is involuntary and covers my face when he stops abruptly to look back at me.

Squinting, Jameson uses his forearm to swipe away the sweat that’s gathered on his forehead.

“Are you flirting with me, Grace?”

Hell yes.

I love the way he says my name. Sometimes it’s a gentle caress. Other times it’s a hoarse warning that he’s on the brink of coming. But each time I love the sound.

I come to a stop in front of him, reaching out to trace his sweat-slicked biceps. I’m always pulled to him like a magnet.

The shirt he’s wearing is saturated with sweat and I must admit the front view is just as mouthwatering as the one from the back.

He catches my hand and brings it to his mouth for a kiss before lowering it.

“Let’s take a break,” he suggests, tugging me in the direction of a well-shaded clearing.

Though I’m not yet fatigued, I’m grateful for a break from the beating sun.

“I got something for you,” he says as we lean against a tree.

I take a generous sip from my water bottle, eyeing him curiously.

From the pocket of his cargo shorts, he reveals a silver keychain in the shape of an anchor. He runs his rough fingers over it, before extending it in my direction.

As I take the keychain, the symbolism of the anchor is not lost on me.

Who knew Jameson was so sentimental?

It’s the sweetest gift I’ve received.

At least that’s what I think until he starts speaking.

“I want you to carry this with you at all times.” He takes the keychain from me before I can get used to the weight of it in my palm.

Flipping it over, Jameson hits a small lever and I gasp as a small blade folds down from the side, extending past the curved edge of the anchor.

He wants me to start carrying a knife?

“Don’t you think this is overkill? I think my pepper spray will do just fine,” I say defiantly.

Jameson isn’t amused when he makes eye contact with me.

“As much as I would like to be, I can’t be by your side every second and I would feel better if you had a little backup.”

His words are sobering, dredging up thoughts that I would like to keep buried.

“Please carry it.”

“Okay,” my voice is barely audible as I agree, tucking the keychain into my pocket.

Jameson looks pleased and steps forward to kiss me. “Thank you.”

In an instant, I’m wrapped in his arms as he deepens the kiss.

His tongue strokes mine masterfully, reminding me of a different caress and that thought alone is all I need to set off the throbbing in my panties.

“Fuck, Grace. I always want you,” he growls against my lips.

Strong hands trail down my front and underneath the waistband of my denim shorts.

My lips part but words fail me as his rough hand palms my pussy through the scant lace of my panties.

“You drive me crazy, Grace. Do you know that?”

Sharp teeth nip at my earlobe before wandering down my jaw and finally my collarbone.

“People will be able to see us,” I whisper cautiously even as my eyes roll upward in ecstasy.

“Then I guess you’ll have to be quiet,” he says as his lips return to mine.

That deep voice and his skillful tongue have me under a spell.

Jesus Christ, I want this man to fuck me against this tree.

His grip on my leaking sex is maddening and I try to grind my hips to create more friction but he stops my movements with a firm grasp.

“Please,” I beg, frustrated and turned on by his dominance.

In a flurry of movements, he has my shorts around my ankles and the crotch of my soaking panties shoved to the side.

I hear his zipper as he lifts my left leg up and around his waist. My right foot stays rooted on the ground as he pushes into me in one fluid motion.

With his eyes trained on mine, he starts moving.

His thrusts are powerful and fast, leaving me gasping and in need of more.

So much more.

He feels so good. I don’t think I will ever get used to his thickness or the depth of his strokes.

Being stretched by him is my favorite form of torturous pleasure.

“Just like that,” I breathe as his eyes continue to bore into my soul.

Jameson pumps steadily, rocking our bodies as one.

The friction caused by our grinding pelvises is enough to send me over the edge.

When my spasms start his mouth crashes over mine forcibly, capturing any sound that threatens to spill into the evening air.

I come violently around his thrusting dick, my juices gushing and muscles tightening to hold him captive. With the added lubrication making me more slippery, Jameson continues to push into me rapidly.

Seconds later, I feel the muscles beneath my palms tense and Jameson releases a guttural groan as he rocks into me one final time.