Climbing Tex like a telephone pole was possibly the most un-Jessie-like thing she'd done in recent memory, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. She'd been so good for so long, listening to all her mother's rules about good behavior, and sticking to the townies, not getting involved with anyone outside of her "station," and it had netted her a lot of boring sex. She had better orgasms watching porn on her phone and playing with herself that she did on her rare dates. She didn't want to be a good girl anymore. She didn't want to be protected.

 

What did Tex see in her? She wasn't sure. She was his dead best friend's little sister. Had he really been carrying a torch for her for all these years? Sure, granted, she had for him, but somehow that was different. He was a freaking Adonis dressed up like the baddest of bad boys. She was plain, angular Jessie, nothing to write home about.

 

She'd straddled men before and had them complain about her bony ass, or say she was all elbows. Tex wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her until she thought she would grind herself off in his lap. She hadn't been kidding about the motorcycle; as soon as they'd hit the open road, the vibration of the engine went straight to her pussy and left her gasping. She'd cried and nearly come and clung to him until she thought there was nothing else there.

 

He kissed Jessie now with passion and purpose. One hand was behind her head, holding her at the angle he wanted; the other was at the small of her back, pushing her ever so gently against the hard length of his cock, trapped against his thigh. He'd been hard for so long, he had to be in the most exquisite state.

 

He lifted her off him after a moment, setting her gently to the side. "Sorry," he said. "If you want me to fuck you properly, you're going to need to give me a minute here."

 

"Too hot for you?"

 

He made a little growling sound. "Strip," he said.

 

"You're not going to do it for me?"

 

"Depends," he said. "You want me to fall face first into your tiny tits and rut into your thigh, or do you want me to fuck you properly like you deserve?"

 

Well. When he put it that way. She didn't have to be nice about it, though. She stood up and stripped off her t-shirt, her stretchy lace bralette, and her jeans and panties. She folded each of them neatly and stacked them in the corner of the porch. Her heart was pounding in her chest when she turned around to him.

 

She'd been really slim her whole life. And not that kind of model slim, where someone is attractively proportioned and has plenty of curves. Like her doctors kept checking her thyroid slim, but shrugging when she couldn't put on weight. When she was a kid, people had said she was a little coltish, and she'd fill out in time, only it hadn't happened. It had been cute when she was 16, but now, it felt...awkward, somehow.

 

But Tex was looking at her like she was the Venus de Milo in all her glory. Like her mosquito bite tits and bony, jutting hips were the best vision he'd ever seen. And looking through his eyes, maybe she could start to see it. Because a man like him could have any woman he wanted, and he wanted her. That had to mean something good.

 

There was a tiny fraction of her brain that was panicking about what was she doing, standing here naked where anyone could see, but the vast majority of her brain—and, to be honest, her lust—swatted those thoughts away. This spot was so secluded that she'd had no idea it was even here. Tourists tended to stay on the public areas, because a few of the private owners were very territorial about their property. And even if someone did see her here, she had a decent idea that Tex would just raise an eyebrow and ask them if they wanted to join in or keep walking.

 

"Come here," he said, and it was a whispery church voice that sent shivers down her spine and into her soaked and aching cunt. She went to crouch down, but he pulled her straight toward him, bringing his face towards her sex. One hand on each side of her ass, he pulled her forward, reaching out with his tongue. He pushed past her lower lips and found her clit with unerring accuracy, and she let out a stream of profanity in gasps. Her hands splayed on the rough wood of the cabin, and she fought to keep her knees locked so she wouldn't fall. "Christ," she muttered, "Christ, fuck, yes."

 

"Good girl," he purred into her curls, and then he went to work, hard and fast. He leaned back a little so that her thighs were on either side of his face, and he devoured her. Sparks exploded in front of her eyes, and then she realized she'd squeezed them closed. She forced myself to open them, to look down at him, his face already smeared with her liquid sex, his pupils blown wide, and then he pushed his tongue into her and she—

 

She ended. She stopped. Sound and color and meaning bled out of the world. She could feel her mouth stretching wide as she tried to breathe but her throat was locked tight, and there was nothing but the swelling pulse in her cunt.

 

The wave shattered, and the world slammed back into her, overwhelming and too fast and too much and she cried out, gasping and collapsing and shuttering down into his lap. He curled me up in his arms and rocked me as the tears streamed down my face from the sheer force of the emotional release.

 

"No kidding about the cursing," he said, when the tears had stopped, and she'd stopped shivering.

 

"That was nothing," Jessie said. "I can fluently curse in six languages." That was an exaggeration. But he laughed, and she went with it.

 

"Six language orgasm," he said. "I will definitely put that on my bucket list."

 

His cock was pressing up insistently into her ass. She had no idea when he'd stripped off, but god he was amazing. His chest was almost furry, his hair was so thick, but it thinned out over his abs, leading in a delicious treasure trail down to the cock that felt completely impressive where it was. "I mean. You still haven't achieved the goal we set when we came out here."

 

He rolled his eyes. "I had my tongue inside you, but that wasn't fucking you? I know a lot of lesbians who would disagree."

 

"Wrong metric, asshole," she said, playfully swatting at his arm. "I figure, fucking involves orgasms for both parties."

 

"Does it now?"

 

"Yup. You can make love and have only one person come—and sometimes that's fun, let's be honest—but fucking definitely involves dual orgasms."

 

"Are you trying to say it's my turn?"

 

The annoying thing about being naked was that he could clearly see how, when she blushed, it started at her nipples and moved up to her forehead. Gorgeous look, clearly. "Unless you don't want to."

 

His eyes widened. "Yeah, baby. Yeah, I want to."

 

She forced myself to be realistic for exactly one second. "You brought that condom with you?"

 

He nodded. He reached back to where his jeans had landed in a heap—nothing like her neat little pile—and pulled a square metal pack out of his back pocket. He pulled out that classic foil package, and even flashed her the expiration date.

 

"Always be prepared?"

 

"My parents wanted me to be a boy scout."

 

She slid out of his lap as he rolled it on, but when she went to lie down, he pulled me back.

 

"If it's okay," he said, "I would really like you here."

 

"Most guys find my ass too bony for this," she said, trying to play it off as funny. He wasn't fooled.

 

"Most guys are fucking idiots," he said. "Riding me hard, your tits in my face, bouncing around. What's not to love?"

 

She looked down at her itty bitty titty committee application entry. "They don't...bounce so much."

 

He shrugged. "You haven't been doing it right."

 

"Is that so?"

 

"Yup."

 

"And you're going to show me the right way?"

 

"If you ever fucking shut up and mount up," he said. He winked, which kept her from smacking him again.

 

She found myself pausing for just a moment. This dude from her past had just given her the most spectacular partnered orgasm she'd ever had in her life, and then cuddled her through the aftershocks. She was as good at love-‘em-and-leave-‘em as the next emotionally withdrawn sexual enthusiast, but this was something else. Slipping him into her, looking him in the eyes while she fucked him rotten. She wasn't going to walk away from this without leaving some part of her behind. Was there enough of her left to risk that?

 

The truth was that, at this point, she was already a goner. As soon as she'd mounted up on that motorcycle behind him, there was no holding back. This was really just the part where she admitted it.

 

He didn't push to enter her, letting this be entirely her moment, entirely within her control. But he was right on the edge of her, and it took just a moment of positioning to sink down onto him. She watched his nostrils flare as she slowly, carefully, sank down onto him. The moment of taking a man deep inside always felt strange, an odd yielding and piercing all at once, a complete acceptance of someone else, quite literally, into her.

 

For the first time, she saw the same awareness in Tex's eyes, the sense of the holy divine pouring through both of them. His mouth was open, his eyes in awe of her as she shifted slowly over his cock. "Oh my great good God," he whispered. His hands splayed over the small of her back, shifting her position slightly, so that the next time she moved, his eyes fluttered closed. "Have you been waiting for this for a decade and a half, or was that just me?"

 

"I used to think of you when I touched myself," she said, and his breath hissed in, his hands tightening on her. He started to move with her, thrusting up into her as she let herself tumble down onto him. "All the time, after you were gone, but before, too. When I didn't even know what I was doing, what it was supposed to feel like, or why it felt so goddamn good, it was you I imagined. It felt like heaven, all the time, heaven and hell and sin and sainthood, all wrapped up into one."

 

Whatever control he'd been using evaporated. His arms closed tight around her waist and he slammed into her, so hard it danced on the edge of pain. In another time, in another place, it might have brought her to a second orgasm, but right now, at this time and in this moment, all she could see was his face, his eyes unseeing and all-seeing, as he found completion within her.

 

She held him as his breath shuddered back down into a steady rhythm, his cock slowly softening. He took a moment to take off the condom and tie it off, tossing it into a corner, and then he laid down on the bedroll, pulling her down with him, resting on his shoulder. "That was fun," he said, laughter in his voice, and she poked him in the rib. Jerk had figured out how to avoid being tickled, though, and he just laughed at her attempt.

 

"Unfair," she pouted, and snuggled in closer. He pulled her tight against him.

 

It felt amazing to be held close like this. She knew she should stand up, put on her clothes, and tell him to take her back to her car. Back to town. Back to anywhere. Because this relationship—no. It wasn't a relationship, that was the point. It couldn't be a relationship, because she didn't know him anymore. He was amazing and he made her body come alive, but she didn't know him, not really.

 

Motorcycle clubs were bad news, she knew that. Drugs and violence and guns. All things that had made her stay in her sleepy little town where the most dramatic nonsense she had to put up with was resort visitors speaking slowly to her because being a local clearly meant that she was below average intelligence.

 

But could someone be this kind and gentle with his body, and then turn around and kill someone in cold blood? The look in his eyes when he'd told her that he intended to get revenge on Danny's killer certainly made her think so. He'd looked ice cold when he'd said all of that, and if there was anything she'd ever learned, it was that the poet who said to listen to people when they tell you who they are the first time was very right. Tex had said he was a cold man who was going to do what he needed to do to see his friend, her brother, avenged.

 

But what about after that, her brain kept asking. What about when that need for revenge is sated? Will he be a man who can love then?

 

"So," he said, interrupting her wool-gathering, "exactly how old will I sound if I offer you a penny for your thoughts."

 

"Hm. Tough call." She pretended to consider, rolling onto her back and staring off at the sky. "Late 50s at least. Possibly older. I mean, my grandma used to say things like that."

 

"How is your grandma?"

 

"Dead," she said, and then regretted it when he winced. "Cancer. She went fast, and with good meds."

 

"I'm glad."

 

"Why didn't you ever get back in touch with me?" She'd asked the question before, when they had all their clothes on, but she needed to hear it again, with the waves and the sand as witness.

 

"I was broken, Jessie. I was convinced I was worthless. And I was sure you wouldn't want anything to do with me. You could make a strong argument that Danny-" his voice choked off, and it took a minute for him to collect himself. "That if we hadn't been kissing right then, your brother wouldn't have backed out into the street. And so I was sure you wouldn't want me. Because you'd see it as my fault."

 

"You really thought that?"

 

She felt him shrug. "I thought it was my fault. Why wouldn't you think the same thing?"

 

"Because I was sure it was my fault."

 

He was quiet for a long time, as if that had absolutely never occurred to him. "Oh," he said, after a long while.

 

"Yeah," she said back. "Oh."

 

"So, what you're saying is that it might have been nice to reassure you that, worst case scenario, we shared the blame?"

 

"And, if what we felt for each other was really as big as it felt, that he hadn't died for nothing."

 

Another long stretch of quiet. Her body was so relaxed and at ease that she almost nodded off. "I think I owe you an apology," he said, after a while. "I mean, I could throw this on my parents, but, let's be honest, email was an option. I should have been in touch."

 

"You should have."

 

"I'm sorry."

 

"Thank you."

 

"That simple?"

 

"For now."

 

He did sit up, then, and she moved with him. Without conversation, they both got dressed again. He dropped the used condom into a burn bin that was a safe distance from the cabin, and they mounted up on the bike again. She was sore as she sat down, from the sex and from the long ride beforehand. She held tight to him as he set them back on the road to the improvised clubhouse.