CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WREN
Three hours in and I realize hiking is a lot like a round of tequila shots—It sounds like a good idea until you’re actually doing it.
The one saving grace is Carter powering on ahead, the greatest view so far his perfect butt squeezed so deliciously into that naturally distressed denim. When he says we should switch up halfway along the track, I complain bitterly until I think of his eyes glued to my ass, the pleasure it will bring him in return.
Is it hard to walk with a giant boner? I wonder.
Boner? my head questions. Girl, that thing’s a telegraph pole, relaying nothing but pleasure down the line.
I’m somewhat relived to reach the summit, the gloomy wash of clouds that have been gathering this morning dissipating into the kind of cobalt perfection I’ve always associated with Canada.
We’re alone on the summit of St. Mark’s, a soft whistling as the breeze moves through the trees below.
Carter stands beside me with his hands on his hips. “Do you remember the last time we were up here?”
“Vaguely. I did it in those purple Chuck Taylors I had and a tank top, right? I don’t even think we brought water, did we?”
“No,” he replies, “but you did bring that silly camera of yours.”
“The Instax?”
“Yeah, the Polaroid thing.”
I think of the photo I found in his top drawer. “I kind of wish I’d kept more of those photos.”
He turns to me. “I must confess I kept one—for nostalgia’s sake.”
I feign surprise. “Oh?”
“I had it inside with me.”
“Am I in the photo?”
“You are.”
“You couldn’t have gone with a Playboy centerfold instead like everyone else?”
He laughs. “Oh, you’re so much better than any of those airheads.”
“You sound like you speak from experience.”
“I was a shameless womanizer once upon a time.”
“And you’re not anymore?”
He smiles. “Little bird, if being with you every night means I’m a taken man, so be it.”
“That’s a funny proposal.”
He laughs again, kicking at the gravel, the breeze picking up and tossing his inky hair about. “When I propose, you’ll know it.”
“I should hope so.”
We stand there quietly admiring the view.
“My old coach came past the rink last night,” says Carter.
“From high school?”
“No. Coach Williams, from the Canucks.”
“He just felt like popping in to say hi?”
“He’d heard I was training, decided to do a bit of sleuthing. In fact, he thinks there’s a shot I could get back into game.”
“Wow. That’s great news.” I genuinely mean it.
“He wants me to go to Vancouver, to Rogers Arena, meet the new team.”
“You should. You said your knee was better.”
He’s shaking his head. “I never thought I’d get a chance again. Even inside, I’d ruled it out… until you.”
“You’re saying I’m your lucky charm?”
“You’re far more than that.”
I’m overcome with an urge to slide my hands down his pants when I hear voices. I look past Carter and sure enough another couple is making their way up the track.
Carter greets them before they continue past us to the left of the summit.
I feel Carter’s lips against my ear. “When we get back to the cabin, I’m going to fuck you until you scream. You’re going to come so hard for me.”
I grab his crotch and squeeze. “We’ve got to make it down first.”
“Going down’s my favorite part,” he smiles.
I roll my eyes. “And there you go with the lines again.”
“It’s no line. It’s the truth.”
We head home and make love. It’s the kitchen counter this time, my cell bleating beside us with yet another ‘Unknown.’
I should be exhausted, spent, but I can’t seem to get enough. Who needs a workout when you’ve got Carter White? I think.
Lying in bed later, I wake in the mood for a midnight snack.
I throw the quilt off, kneeling between his legs, wind howling against the window pane.
You naughty thing, you.
He stirs, but doesn’t wake.
I pull his boxers down, his immense cock springing free, a solid shaft of flesh I have no idea how I’m going to handle.
I take it with one hand, enjoy the way it’s already growing in my fingers.
My lips close over the sensitive head of his cock, but when I try to go deep, I have to pull back, having a somewhat difficult time getting his length into my tiny mouth.
I give a little moan of frustration and try again, using my tongue to coat the velvety line of his shaft, my hot mouth working and my left hand lightly jerking him off.
It’s unreal. I never had this urge with David. I never initiated anything.
I concentrate on just the head of his member. As I wrap my fingers around his shaft tighter and pump him into my mouth, he starts to jerk his hips against me.
I know my technique isn’t the best, my teeth lightly brushing his skin even as I attempt to tuck them away behind my lips, but I don’t think he cares given the way he’s moaning and mewing, eyes still closed.
I’m not going to give up. I open my jaw as wide as it will go, take a breath, and let the bulk of his cock run into the tight compress of my throat.
I gag almost instantly, eyes wide in alarm as I draw him up, but if anything he looks pleased.
“Try again,” he whispers. “But relax more.”
I take another breath and try again, this time succeeding in keeping his cock planted in my throat, raising my head up and down in his lap as I begin to find a rhythm.
He uses his own hand to guide my actions. It’s comical, the size of him in my grip. My fingers can barely close around him.
His breathing grows more rapid. He places his hand on the top of my head, pushing me up and down.
I can’t believe I’m doing this, that I’ve become such a sudden sex kitten.
He lifts his hips, face pulled tight, my bare breasts swinging lightly to and fro in my flannel PJs, my pussy hot and wet.
I pump his thick shaft harder, sucking with everything I have, determined to bring about his release.
And boy do I get it.