by J. Daniels
A knot forms in my stomach.
From being out here? From my conversation with Juls? I can’t seem to tell.
“Maybe we can just stay in tonight?” I softly suggest, turning back to Mason.
He cocks his head, trying to understand. I’m sure he thinks I mean stay in tonight, in the car.
I might. Give me an hour.
“We have all day tomorrow to be out in this . . . stuff. You know?” I gesture around us, then at the tent. “Honestly, I’m feeling a little anxious, if you didn’t notice. This is a lot for me, Mason. Being out here. Roughing it. Could we just stay in the tent the rest of the night? Would that be horrible?”
A gentle smile lifts the corner of his mouth. “You, all to myself in a tent? Nothing horrible about that.” He tugs on my pony. “You want a fire or no?”
I shake my head, spinning around to open my bag. “No. I’m really not that cold. Can we walk to the bathrooms though? I want to brush my teeth and stuff.”
“Yeah, sure.”
He grabs his toothbrush and a flashlight, leading me down another path after he stores our things inside the tent.
I’m one extremely happy girl when it takes us no more than a minute to get to the bath houses. I can easily find this on my own.
We separate and wash up. I scrub my face clean and fix my hair into a sleeker pony.
When we get back to the campsite, it’s nearly dark. Mason unzips the flap on the tent and holds it open for me to climb inside.
I toe my shoes off and step in.
“Wow. Swanky,” I say, admiring the large dome ceiling and mesh windows. He’s left them partially unzipped, allowing for a cool breeze and the moonlight to cut through.
Mason smiles as he ducks to enter and closes us inside. He sets the flashlight down and turns on a lantern, sitting it on top of the cooler. Soft light fills the tent. He kneels and unrolls the sleeping bag in the center of the space.
“Room for two,” he murmurs, shooting me a heated look.
Yes, please.
Leaving it zipped up, he stretches out on his back and pats the spot next to him.
I wet my lips and lower to my knees, crawling closer. I let my head fall beside his. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
“What’s that?”
“What made you leave Australia three years ago? Was it like a yoga thing? Were you wanting to study it here?”
“No, it had nothing to do with yoga.”
I stare at his profile when he doesn’t elaborate. My foot nudges his calf. “Were you in love with her?”
Shit. I need to get my mouth under control. Do I even want to know his answer? Will it matter to me one way or the other?
He looks at me briefly, just a glance, then resumes staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. If you had asked me that question three years ago I would’ve said yeah. I followed a woman to another country. I felt something for her. I said it, more than once.”
“I love you,” I quietly offer.
His head snaps in my direction and he gives me the strangest look, full of intrigue and stunned disbelief. Questions. So many questions in those bright eyes staring back at me.
I swallow before I continue. My tongue suddenly feels too large for my mouth. “That’s what you said. You told her you loved her.”
His lips part with a rushed exhale. “Yeah.”
“What does it feel like when you say it?” I bite my lip, rolling to my side to look at him. I prop my head up on my fist.
“You’ve never said it?” he asks, his eyes searching my face. He continues after I shake my head. “What about to your family and stuff? Like a best mate, you say it to them?”
“That’s not the same thing. I mean, yeah, I say it to my family. I have to. My mom would punch me in my teeth if I didn’t tell her I loved her.”
“Your mum a violent woman with everyone? Should I scream my affection for her when we meet?” He smiles when I poke his side. “You say it to your friends, yeah?”
“No.”
“Never? Not even growing up?”
“I didn’t really have friends growing up.”
“Come on.” His brow pulls tight. “I don’t believe that. I bet you were very popular in school.”
“Yeah, with the boys. And they weren’t interested in being my friend. Girls were either nasty to me because they were jealous or they had no idea who I was. I never had a best mate.” My eyes lower to a spot between us. “I had my sister, Juls, and we were forced to like each other so that doesn’t count. And now, yeah, I’m friends with Joey and Billy. I’ve known Dylan for years, but it’s not the same thing.”
I flop back over and blink up at the ceiling. My hands tangle together on my stomach.
I think about Mason that night at The Tavern, how he told me all the things he wanted from this, what more meant to him, and how I almost laughed at his desire for a friendship on top of everything else.
Would I laugh now?
Clearing my head, I bump my leg against his. “So, I guess you don’t know what it’s like saying it then. I mean, really saying it. Mates don’t count.”
“No, I guess not,” he chuckles. “If we’re not counting mates or mums.”
“Or Mother Earth. I’m sure you’ve pledged your undying affection for that bitch.”
In a flash, he rolls over and pins me beneath him. I giggle against his neck.
“Jealous?” His hard torso settles between my legs. He tilts my chin and claims my mouth, stealing my ability to answer.
We kiss slowly, a gentle glide of lips and tongues until our breaths grow hurried and our hands no longer hold our bodies together, but roughly explore skin and shape.
My fingers filter through his hair and tug on the ends. I wrap my legs around his waist. When his hips start gently thrusting forward, pressing his erection against my clit, I gasp into his mouth and squirm beneath him. I reach under his shirt and feel the warm skin of his back. My nails pull him closer, my body jutting away from the earth and further into his arms.
He squeezes my breast, taking and taking my mouth until I’m bruised and breathless.
Nothing is hotter than Mason’s desperation, and it’s evident in everything.
His kiss. His touch. The way his voice breaks when he says my name.
“Brooke.”
I grasp at his body like he’s slipping away. I’m worried he will.
I want him to want me so badly he can’t remember anyone before. I want him to distract me so I’m not completely terrified of what this is or what it’s becoming.
I don’t want to think. I just want to feel. His hands. His mouth. The wild pace of his heart.
He sucks on my neck and my head rolls to the side.
I spot my duffle. I remember what’s in it.
“Wait. I brought you something.” I push against his shoulders and he rolls off, growling his protest. I stand and give him a playful look. “You’ll like it. Trust me.”
“I liked what we were doing.” He tucks both hands behind his head. His feet cross at his ankles. “Is it another koala?
“No,” I laugh, unzipping the bag. I strip my shirt off and toss it aside. My bra is next. I look up at Mason and find his attention drawn off my face. “Close your eyes,” I tell him, my fingers popping the button of my jeans.
He continues to stare, his erection tenting his pants. “I can’t.”
“Please? It’ll be worth it. I promise.”
With a disapproving grunt, he pinches his eyes shut. I don’t trust him not to peek so I carry my shirt over and toss it onto his face. He chuckles against the material. I take a full minute to appreciate the line of his cock.
Hot damn.
I strip my jeans off but leave on my blue lace thong. After changing into the outfit I packed, I straddle Mason’s waist and sink to my knees.
“Okay. You can look.”
He tosses the shirt and opens his eyes, wide, wider the longer he stares at my cheerleading outfit
from college.
“Jesus Christ, Brooke. This is what you brought me?” He runs his hands up my thighs and under my skirt. The light from the lantern flickers in his blue irises.
“Still fits.” I wink, cupping my breasts through the tight polyester. “Itchy as fuck, though. I better make this quick.”
“Make what quick?”
I shoot down and tug on his warm-ups. His cock springs free, slapping hard and heavy against his stomach.
He hisses through his teeth. “Brooke. Wait.”
I put my weight on my knees. I’m prepared for his protest. “You don’t want my hands or my mouth, and you don’t want to have sex yet. Fine. But you never said anything about dry humping.” I blow him a kiss before spinning around and lowering myself onto his pelvis. I move my ass against his cock, rolling my hips in slow circles.
He twitches beneath me and I smile.
“Mm. Remember those dreams you have about me, Mason? When you spank me and come on my ass?”
“Fuck,” he groans, pushing up my skirt, holding it at my waist so he can watch.
I grind my pussy against his shaft. My back bowing as I squeeze his thighs. “Do you like this?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder.
His hungry eyes never leave my body. “So good, baby. Look at you.”
I reach back and tug on the string of my thong. “You like this? Do you feel how wet I am?”
I gasp when he slides his cock between my cheeks, his hands squeezing my ass to fit around him.
Our eyes lock.
“Fuck, Brooke. Do you like it? Knowing how hard you make me. How crazy you make me feel. Tell me.”
“I like it.”
He slaps my ass.
I drop my head through a groan. My hips pulsing faster, my chest heaving through quiet, quick breaths. The tiny bundle of nerves between my legs begins to throb and swell. My nipples harden against my top.
I watch the shadow of our bodies on the wall of the tent, and I realize the moment Mason sees it too.
Us. Together. His long body stretched beneath mine.
He growls behind me, fingers pulling at flesh. His body tightly wound like a spring ready to jump.
He’s on the edge, right there, and I want him to fall. I want to give him pleasure and take my own.
I arch my back and chase my relief, closing my eyes, gasping when his hand connects with my ass again.
“Brooke,” he groans. “Tell me. God, fucking tell me.”
I know what he wants me to say, but I don’t just say it. I don’t give him an empty echo of a response. I admit my own truth.
“You make me feel crazy too.”
When I come, I gasp in shock as my spine and muscles burn.
Mason’s release shoots onto my ass, hot spurts sticking to my skin as he moans my name into the night. He wipes me clean with his shirt, I realize, when he pulls me back and holds me against his bare chest, nuzzling my neck and kissing my jaw, his heart racing and his mouth ravenous.
Turning in his arms, I cup his face, staring into his eyes, pushing my hand through his hair. “I like camping with you,” I whisper.
He smiles against my mouth. “Yeah? Thought you might.”
We strip off each other’s clothes. Mason kills the light from the lantern and we slide inside the sleeping bag. He puts his arm around my waist, whispering how he’ll protect me from bears and huge snakes I don’t want to dry hump.
I laugh against his neck and close my eyes. I might even snuggle closer.
Sleep takes a hold of me before I can tell.
MASON
Getting Brooke to agree to a hike today came easier than I was anticipating.
It probably had something to do with the timing in which I asked, while she was grinding her tight, wet pussy against my hand and wiggling beneath me in the tent, clawing at my back and crying out in pleasure. She moaned my name before whispering a breathy ‘yes’ against my mouth, then slapped a hand to my chest and shoved me off, claiming her orgasm had nothing to do with her answer.
Apparently, she’s a changed woman, loves everything about nature and is eager to explore it with or without me.
On top of everything else that drives me completely crazy about Brooke, she’s a beautiful liar. Fully committed and iron-willed.
Her determination really is a thing to appreciate.
It’s midday, and we’re halfway through our hike. I watch the cute little sway of Brooke’s hips as she tentatively walks the narrow trail in front of me.
Her steps are light against the dirt, quiet and cautious, as if she’s trying not to draw any attention to herself from the wildlife. When branches from trees or large shrubs encroach our track, she turns her body sideways, pulls her arms in close, and sucks in a breath until she’s made it safely past.
So fucking sweet. I can’t stop watching her. I don’t know what I’m enjoying more, being out here with her in the sun and gorgeous weather, or every honest reaction she’s giving me.
After nearly stumbling over a rock sticking out of the dirt, she digs it up, cursing the entire time, and tosses it into the woods with a strangled yell. When a bee flies too close to her face, she gasps and then flips the thing off, threatening to find its hive and burn it to the ground.
I’m waiting for her to break and beg me to take us back. To tell me she’s had enough and that she hates this and me for dragging her out here.
She stops abruptly on the path and I ready myself for her dismissal.
This is it. She’s gone three hours with no complaints or sour tone. But instead of turning on me and threatening my life if I don’t get us out of here, she gathers her hair off her neck and applies another thin coating of bug spray to her exposed limbs.
This is her eighth application.
“I’m starting to get hungry. Do we have any food?” she asks, bending over and spraying the front of her legs.
I groan when the bottom of her arse peeks out from those tiny fucking jean shorts she’s wearing. Again.
This is the eighth time I’ve gotten hard on this trail.
“See something you like?”
Her voice is tempting, sweet and wily. She’s caught me every time we’ve done this.
I scratch my jaw as I resume looking at her, never peeling my eyes away, smiling when she molds her hand to the back of her jeans. “I more than like it, gorgeous,” I say, giving her a quick glance. “If I didn’t give a shit about other men seeing you out here I’d pull those shorts down and bury my face in that.”
“In my ass?” she giggles, spinning around and tucking the small tube of bug spray into her pocket. She wipes her hands down the front of her shorts. “That’s a win/win for me. You can eat that and I’ll eat all the actual food.”
Laughing, I reach out and grab her face, kissing her soft mouth. “You hungry?”
“Starving.”
I step back and pull my bag around to the front of me, tipping my chin at a large boulder.
It’s flat and smooth, wide enough to hold several people.
“Want to sit up there and eat? Seems like a nice spot.”
Brooke looks at the path between us and the rock I’m asking her to get to, her brows pinching together and her mouth pulling into a frown.
Her anxiety slips on like a veil.
I follow her gaze. It’s not a far distance, but the overgrown grass is thick with weeds and wildflowers, some of it reaching up as high as her knees. We’ve stayed on clear paths up until this point, nothing unkempt like this.
I know how much I’m asking of Brooke. Bull-headed determination or not. She might just tell me to go fuck off for even suggesting this. I don’t really care where we eat. I’ll sit on the dirt right here, but I’m curious to see how far she’ll go to prove her persistence today.
Another first, little devil? Will you give me this?
I step closer and squeeze her hand. “It’ll be a nice view up there. We might be able to see the lake.”
She slowly turns her head. Her
eyes, more green than brown today, narrow in on mine. “Yeah? You know what else has a nice view of the lake? Our campsite. Maybe even the car. Why don’t we go check?”
“I can carry you,” I offer, attempting not to smile at her quick-witted apprehension. “I wouldn’t mind it.”
“You are not carrying me,” she scoffs, yanking out of my grip. “I’m capable of getting there myself. And you know what?”
“What?”
She leans in, standing on her toes to get closer, her hands curling around her hips, her face so near to mine I can see the freckles she’s hiding underneath her makeup. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do, Mason, because contrary to what you think, I fucking love it out here.”
Brooke lets out a tiny squeak, spins around, and sprints through the tall grass like something is chasing her.
My mouth stretches into a grin.
Fuck, baby. Look at you. Always surprising me.
She makes it to the boulder and, with frantic hands, tries to claw her way on top of it, but her footing slips on the smooth rock. “No! Goddamn it, no!”
Laughing, I follow behind and reach the boulder just as she slips again. Even with a running start, she’s too short to get up here alone. I toss my bag on top of the rock to free up my hands.
“Here, my little nature lover,” I say against her hair, grabbing her waist and hoisting her up onto the rock.
She thanks me through a breathy pant and shifts over to make room.
I climb up with ease and sit on the warm stone. Reaching for my bag, I watch Brooke scoot to the ledge and look out over the tree-line.
She’s tousled and winded. Her hair is coming undone, several thick pieces falling beside her face and sticking to her neck, barely any of it still contained in her pony. Her skin is flushed and shiny from the bug spray. A light dusting of dirt clings to her legs.
I want to freeze this moment. I want to be able to sit here and do absolutely nothing, just stare at this woman for hours and hours. Bask in the stunningly unpolished version of the temptress I met on the footpath that first day.
Fuck, how wild she was then. Luring me. Making it so I couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone else.
