Sixteen
Maddox
I lead her through the house. Past our parents’ bedroom. Downstairs and out the back door. Across the yard and into the trees.
When we reach the clearing I stop walking. Our destination directly in front of us, she takes over. Her hand shifting in mine, Kris moves ahead of me to lead me to the treehouse nestles in the wide-spread limbs of the oak.
The ladder is already pulled down and she climbs it, leaving me to follow. She pushes the trap door open and disappears. A few seconds later, a light flares briefly before dimming and then she’s back, leaning over the opening to watch me climb. When I reach the top rung, she stays where she is, blocking my way. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” she says, arching a dark brow at me.
“Seriously?” I grin back at her, tossing a look over my shoulder at the ground below. “I’m a hundred pounds heavier than I was the last time I was here, Kriskross, and this ladder is about five years older.” When all she does is stare at me, I groan in mock frustration and roll my eyes. “Terabithia.”
“Thank you.” She gives me a grin and steps aside, letting me in. Planting my hands, I heft myself through the opening. Like everything else, it’s smaller than I remember but I’m not worried. It’s sturdy. Her father built it to last. Not just a few sheets of plywood and a handful of nails. He framed it out. Bought salvaged doors and windows. Shingles for the roof.
He let me help him, teaching how to set a nail. Frame a window. Lay a shingle. By the time it was finished, I felt like I’d built it for Kris myself. Like I’d given her something magnificent. For a long time, that was the best summer of my life.
At about a hundred square feet, the interior of the treehouse feels smaller, my head a bare six inches from the old crank windows set in the roof to create a skylight. There’s a card table and two folding chairs set up in the corner. A pilfered lantern. A battery-powered radio. An old throw rug on the floor. A few sleeping bags spread out on top of it. She still comes here. I’ve watched her disappear into the trees from my bedroom window more than once, usually late at night, when everyone’s sleeping. I’ve thought about following her more than once.
Trying not to think about it, I stand back. Watch while she pulls the ladder up and shut the trap door, marooning us on our own private island. When it’s secure and the door is latched shut, she straightens herself, gasping a little when she realizes how close I’m standing to her.
Reaching into the shallow space between us, I find her hand and pull her against me, her dark green eyes flaring when she feels the hard press of my cock against her belly. “It’s okay…” Slide my arm around her waist, anchoring us together, while I lift my other hand to her hair to weave my fingers around her ponytail. Giving it tug that tips her gaze up to meet mine. “That’s going to stay right where it is,” I dip my mouth toward hers, skimming her lower lip with the tip of my tongue before taking it between my teeth, nipping and licking another soft gasp from her throat that allows me to take her mouth slowly. Tease her tongue into tangling with mine, every gentle nip and suck more desperate and needy than the last until her arms are wound around my neck and her fingers are wrapped and squeezing around the back of my neck. Until the hand I had splayed against her back is gripping and kneading her ass while its fingers tease and stroke her pussy from behind.
Tearing my mouth away from hers, I use my hold on her hair to jerk her head back even further so I can lick and graze my way down the slope of her throat, groaning against her neck when she moans in response. I reach deeper. Push harder, stroking the seam of her pussy through the thin cotton of her sleep pants, soaking the fabric of them instantly with her juices.
Turning her, I walk her back a few steps, reaching for and snagging the hem of her T-shirt to pull it over her head before lowering her onto the pile of sleeping bags, pulling and positioning her until I’m kneeling between her thighs. Shaky fingers hooked around the waistband of her pants, she lifts her hips off the floor so I can take them off. As soon as they’re gone, I wrap my hands around the inside of her thighs, holding her open so I can watch myself stroke my thumbs up the length of her swollen, wet slit. Reaching the top of her cleft, I find her clit and she cries out, her hips lifting off the floor again, flexing and pumping into the pressure of my hands.
“Mad…” She moans my name, the sound of it in her throat pounding its way down my spine until I can feel every pulse and pump of her hips dancing along the length of my rock-hard cock. Gritting my teeth, I let go of one of her thighs, and stroke two fingers into her pussy, growling deep in my throat as the feel of her soft, wet heat closes around me. “Wait.” She reaches between her thighs to grip her fingers around my wrist, trying to stop me from making her come. “Please, Mad—” She shakes her head, lips slightly parted while she looks up at me with a heavy-lidded gaze. “Not without you. Please, Mad—” Her heavy-lidded gaze glides down the length of me to land on my throbbing cock. “I don’t want to come without you.”
Fuck.
Yes.
I’m naked before can even blink, shirt and jeans discarded in a flash before I’m kneeling between her thighs again, to fit the condom I brought over my thick, blunt head and down my shaft. She wraps her arms around me when I cover her body with mine. Pushes her fingers through my hair when I lick and tease her swollen nipples with my tongue. Cries out when I suck them into my mouth and nip them with my teeth. Tilts her hips into the press of my cock against her slick, swollen entrance and moans softly as I push my way inside her. The feel of her hot, tight pussy stretching and pulsing around me nearly undoes me, the flex and retreat of my hips against hers, a gentle, languid rhythm that pulls us both under drowns us slowly, one wave at a time. Neither of in any hurry for it to end because we each other and we have forever.