by Elaria Ride
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” I confess, positioning the tip of my cock between the swells of her cheeks. She moans, rubbing against me, and it takes all my strength not to thrust into her, foregoing all finesse along the way. But I have something I need to tell her first. Just to prove how much I’ve changed.
“Autumn,” I breathe, slipping a hand between her dripping folds. She gasps, my fingers filling her.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” I murmur, my fingers drifting to her clit. Autumn rocks against my fingers, but doesn’t say anything. Good girl...
“You’ve gotten me this fucking hard from the second we met,” I breathe into her ear, rubbing her clit in slow circles. She arches her back and rocks back and forth in greater earnest.
“Your ass makes me so damn horny I can hardly walk... just seeing you at the desk almost sends me over the edge.”
Autumn is breathing heavily, and I can see a flush crawling up her chest... yes. A possessive leer crosses my face. She likes this.
“You gave me my first wet dream in fifteen years,” I add, my voice a deep timbre. I grasp my cock in my hand (already dripping, just from the proximity to her pussy), and position it at the entrance of her folds.
“All I wanted,” I explain, trying hard to keep myself from plunging in all the way, “was to do this... to you. Do you know how many hours I spent with my hand wrapped around my cock, praying for the feel of your curves? Imagining you in a lot less than your ranger uniform, and—”
But Autumn doesn’t have time for words. In one swift motion, she reaches behind, grabs my hips, and thrusts me all the way inside.
“Fuckkk,” I choke as the wind rushes from my chest. Autumn only giggles, adjusting to my size.
“How ya hangin’?” she purrs a moment later, giving me a coquettish smirk from over her shoulder.
I chuckle, shaking my head; fuck, she’s perfect. No one else could give Automatic Asher this much perspective… no one else could remind me of what I’ve missed my entire life.
But it’s also not fair that she’s turned the tables so fast; I’m the one in charge now. I lean in further, positioning myself as deeply as I can. I’m rewarded with a throaty moan as one of my hands returns to her clit, the other wrapping around to tweak her nipples.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” I repeat. We moan in unison as I thrust again and again, both of our chests heaving from the heady combination of exertion and pleasure. “You get me so fucking hard,” I add, continuing my slow, even strokes. “Can you feel that? How you get me so fucking hard?”
She cries out, writhing against me, and although we’ve scarcely started, I can tell she’s close. This is a very good thing, because I am, too; she’s always reverted me to a horny teenager. I don’t know why I’d thought now — of all times — would be different.
But I have bigger problems to worry about, like the fact that I need to push her over the edge before I get there, too.
“Come for me,” I command into her ear. “I want to feel you, Autumn… just as I’ve always imagined. I want to feel that tight little pussy all around my — ”
“Ashhhher!” Her cry reaches a high-pitched crescendo, growing louder and louder with every pass of my lips as half-formed words fall from her mouth. I smile, although it’s all I can do to keep my sanity; I’m so fucking close… so close…
She doesn’t make me wait long.
I give a particularly strong thrust inside her as my balls tighten, as my cock threatens to burst. A strangled moan escapes me as I push my thumb against her clit, hoping against hope that this is enough.
“Now,” I bellow, grasping at the fraying ends of my resolve. “Now, Autumn.”
My words have a compelling effect. She tosses her head back, and with that, her pussy contracts around me as she releases a hoarse cry. And that’s absolutely all I can fucking take.
I thrust one, two, three more times before I see stars, my whole body rippling with the force of my orgasm. I feel myself pulsing and releasing with more breathtaking intensity than I’ve ever experienced. Hands down.
I shudder and collapse behind her, but we remain intimately entwined, her ass perfectly positioned against me. I raise a shaking hand to wrap my arms around her, to make sure she’s ok, but I need not worry. A warm smile of contentment is perched on her lips, her cheeks rosy and pink in the afterglow.
I can’t help but think back to all those nights I’d spent without her, wishing she were here. That I’d ever — even for a minute — thought about life without her.
I smile, nuzzling her neck, not minding in the least when my nose brushes against her curls. The fire pops and cracks merrily beside us, bathing my little cabin in a warm glow.
Autumn’s surrounding me — both figuratively and literally. I can’t get enough of the intoxicating blend of her shampoo and her skin and her arousal. I can’t fully process that my cock is nestled deep inside her. I can’t comprehend that she’s mine.
I have one final thought before falling asleep: Fantasy Autumn was lovely… but absolutely nothing compares to reality.
15
Asher
The robotic voice pierces through the stillness of the cabin, somehow urgent despite its lack of humanity. I blearily blink over at the radio perched on my bedside table.
The message on the radio is garbled... but I’ve been hearing that shitty audio quality for so long that I understand it: “Poachers detected through sensor. Poachers detected through sensor,” the robotic voice chirps. “Northwest quadrant of Biggal Mountain Park. Poachers detected through sensor. State Park Service Alerted. Poachers detected through sensor.”
I freeze, my arm still wrapped around my sleeping... girlfriend? Is that what she is now? The thought brings a smile to my lips — but even the sight of her glorious, naked form isn’t enough to distract me from legitimate danger. The NNS might have a lot of flaws, but I trust that they wouldn’t give me a false emergency alert. I guess this is the universe’s way of kicking me in the ass for not taking the earlier warnings so seriously.
I swear under my breath and throw the covers off. Autumn’s still asleep, and she’ll stay that way if I have anything to say about it.
My head flips through every scenario as I march over to the walkie talkies stowed away in the cabinet. The Northwest Quadrant… that’s right by the visitor’s center. I frown, glimpsing out the window. The snow isn’t falling anymore, but it’s broad daylight — probably late morning or early afternoon. Who would be dumb enough to poach right by the visitor’s center while the sun is up?
I shake my head and grab the walkies from the shelf. It’s a small blessing that the blizzard seems to have totally passed. Then again, any potential poacher wouldn’t take a risk if things were as bad as I’d thought. I’ll at least appreciate not trekking through white-out conditions.
I glimpse over at Autumn, still peacefully asleep in my bed; when I find these morons, they’ll have hell to pay for their shitty timing.
Then I turn away from her, pick up the walkie, and begin the practiced routine of emergency response. The radio has already told me the NNS is aware — but as far as I’m concerned, that means next to nothing. They live in a different part of the state and likely won’t have units out in time.
I shake my head, making the executive decision to inform local police, too. I’ve never used this channel once in fifteen years, but I guess there’s a first time for everything. I just hope the signal works, and that someone has showed up today — a Sunday, no less — after a huge blizzard.
I furiously jab in the SOS Morse code signal (three dots, three dashes, three dots) into the walkie, not bothering with the voice feature at all. On the off-chance my voice carries through the outdated technology, I’d definitely wake Autumn — which I do not want.
I pause before attempting the code one more time, just to be sure, when —
“What’s going on?” Autumn’s voice floats over to me. I turn around, swallowing, as she eme
rges from the bathroom. The sight of her makes my throat go dry.
She’s dressed, but barely — only clad in the Bosco Family Lumber shirt she’d worn before. I clear my throat, kicking myself for tuning everything out around me. Including her. I guess I’d been so distracted in my attempt to protect her that I hadn’t… uh. Protected her.
Right.
“We’ve got poachers,” I explain. “At least according to the NNS. Which means I’ve gotta go — and now.” I lean in to give her a parting kiss on the forehead. She accepts my kiss but regards me with a quirked eyebrow.
“First,” Autumn says, nodding at my waist, “you’re naked. Which, really I don’t mind, but seeing as how you need to go outside to catch these obnoxious snow poachers, I—”
“—ok,” I relent with a chuckle, spreading my palms. “I’ll get dressed. Happy?”
She shifts her weight. Her thick thighs immediately command my attention, scarcely concealed by the long shirt. She certainly fills that out better than I do, I’ll give her that. I’m seized with the sudden memory of those full, enormous breasts... of the look on her face when she’d come around my cock… fuck. This girl will be the death of me, and she hasn’t even done anything!
“Not thrilled, no,” Autumn interrupts, her tone almost thoughtful. I clear my throat, hoping she hasn’t noticed my... uh. Awakening. Of course, she’s wearing a coy smirk, her cheeks flushed in delight. Yeah. No such luck. She’s well aware.
As much as I’d like to find out just how aware she is, though, I really do have a damn job to do. I stoop to pick up the clothes I’d shucked last night during Strip Go Fish. “And uh... why aren’t you thrilled?” I ask, forcing my voice to remain as even as possible.
“Because, Asher,” she snorts, marching over to the closet; her clothes from Friday are hanging on the rack. “If you think I’m gonna let you go out there alone, you’re the one who needs an MRI. Not me!”
Wait, what? I sputter, pausing halfway through pulling up my jeans. She can’t seriously think—
“I’m not taking no for an answer,” Autumn announces, stepping into her pants. I groan, pulling my undershirt over my head.
“Believe me, Asher Bosco. As the youngest of four, I’m skilled at making myself a nuisance.”
I let out a humorless laugh, but she plows on.
“You can’t stop me,” she says flatly. “And if you try, I’ll do everything I can to get in your way. Which is worse, really, than—”
I cut her off with a raised hand, pinching the bridge of my nose. Everything she’s suggesting is completely against protocol. It’s beyond inappropriate. Taking a rookie into a dangerous situation is frowned upon — even during normal work hours. Even when you haven’t just slept with said person.
Even when you aren’t in love with them.
I let out a deep sigh. For the first time, I see the clear downside of dating a girl who is equally involved in adventurous, outdoorsy pursuits. I know she’s right; I have little choice. She’s a grown woman who makes her own decisions. If she wants to accompany me (into whatever the fuck this is) I will respect that, too.
I give her a resigned shrug, reaching for the closest hat on the rack. “I guess we’d better get out there, then.”
Autumn just beams back at me, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
You win, Darling, I think with a smile.
16
Asher
Not even five minutes later, I already regret my decision.
And not because of her.
The moment we head up the exit path I’ve been shoveling since Friday, a distant gunshot echoes to the right — exactly toward the Northwest Quadrant.
Shit.
Autumn and I turn to each other with grim expressions, but we both know what we need to do: We need to get there. And fast.
“At least my boots are dry this time,” Autumn supplies, taking my hand to step over a giant log blocking our path. I laugh, helping her over. Yet again, her optimism astounds me. Here we are, trudging through snow that comes up to my knees — and nearly comes up to her waist.
But what’s Autumn doing? Is she complaining? No... no, she’s not. I glance at her over my shoulder, a little smile on my lips. I’m not sure even she knows how much she’s helping me now. She’s pleasantly chattering away, making enjoyable small talk, keeping my head from going to the worst place.
As we continue making our objectively uncomfortable journey up to the visitor’s center, I can’t help but feel buoyed by her presence. Normally, this much snow in such a short amount of time stirs up painful reminders of the past... but with Autumn, it’s not like that. It sounds corny as hell, but for once I feel like I can make new memories, like snow and ice won’t remind me of ghosts.
But then another gunshot shatters the air, this one much closer than before. Without saying a word, Autumn and I freeze, mid-conversation, our eyes sharing what our mouths cannot: We have to be quiet now.
My hand jumps to my back pocket, triple-checking that I’ve brought my handgun. I hope I won’t have to use that thing… but a single glance into Autumn’s deep, chocolate eyes tells me I’d do just about anything to keep her safe. I pat her shoulder, gesturing ahead. Let’s go.
Autumn smiles back at me, curtsies, and continues trudging along; I stop a snort just in time. I swear, this girl could make a field trip to a slaughterhouse seem like a day at the circus.
As we keep walking, though, the gunshots grow louder and louder. We’re getting closer. I don’t want to imagine who would need bullets to poach a damn tree, but the alternative — that someone isn’t poaching — is far, far worse.
I swallow, filled with the sudden urge to ensure I’m the first in line, just in case anything happens. Autumn and I are only a few feet apart, but I need to be first… I have to be first…
When we reach the final clearing before the visitor’s center, I finally see my chance. With a tug to Autumn’s right hand, she turns to look at me — and even before I say anything, I know she understands: I’m worried about her.
With a jerk of her head, she encourages me to take a few more steps until I’m the one leading the way. I squeeze her hand again (thank you) and step forward.
We need to strike a balance between getting a good vantage point and being seen by the poachers, so I guide us a little closer. The visitor’s center comes into view to my left, its roof aching beneath several feet of clumpy snow. I take a few more steps, Autumn’s hand still interlocked with mine. We’re about to emerge from the forest boundary, which means we should come upon the parking lot any second now. I glance down, preparing to take another step into a four-foot tall snow drift… but there isn’t any.
Oh. I pause, regaining my balance, and stare at the plowed parking lot in confusion. Someone has thoroughly plowed and salted, despite the blizzard that passed through just yesterday. Which means someone planned this… someone who knows the location well enough to make these provisions.
With a sinking sensation in my stomach, I realize this isn’t a random poacher: This is personal. I swallow as Autumn comes to a stop beside me. Her brow knits in concern, her eyes warm and seeking. I just shake my head and stare back at her in grim resignation. There’s only one person who could have done this.
My stomach roils and pitches. How long have I missed this? How long have I pretended I couldn’t see what was happening, right in front of my face? How long have I basked in denial?
But even before my eyes scan the length of the parking lot, even before I take in the sight of the poacher screaming at the top of his lungs (a handgun in his first, his lean form clad in that regulation coat), I numbly accept what I should have known for months:
The poacher is Nick.
And he’s out for blood.
17
Asher
For the past fifteen years, I’ve been harboring a very naïve impression of what poachers look like. I’ve always envisioned nefarious strangers clad in skintight black attire, ones who move in the nigh
t with deftness and precision, targeting wildlife and plants as they go.
But then I see Nick — the kid who I grew up with, the kid whose family will forever be linked to mine, the kid who ate at my dinner table — standing at the base of the youngest red cedar in the park.
And just like that, fifteen years of training flies out the window. Because I have no fucking clue what I’m supposed to do.
Based on how Autumn has frozen beside me, she’s equally shocked. I draw shaking breaths and try as hard as I can to revert to Automatic Asher. I need to be objective. I need to think about this. I need a plan.
But I can’t deny the deep sting of betrayal gaping in my chest like an open wound. Nick’s always been a little off… but to poach? Really?
This is the lowest of the low, the sort of thing you can never really redeem yourself for, especially my family got him this job. Especially since my family fought to protect the same flora he’s trying to destroy. Especially since he’s targeting the youngest tree in the park.
I squint across the parking lot until my eyes rest on the base of said tree — but ah, yep. I should have known. I should have fucking known. He’s stolen the fifteen-passenger NNS van (with a snow-plow attachment) and tethered it to the red cedar.
Which can only mean one thing: On Friday, Nick must have snuck behind the desk, stolen the car keys, and begun devising his little plan. This explains why he’d been so eager to get back behind the desk after the whole coffee incident. I’d just been too distracted to notice.
Autumn shifts forward until she’s standing directly to my left, and I give her hand another squeeze. We’re standing side-by-side. Like we’re partners. A wry smile crosses my face. I guess Automatic Asher hadn’t been too automatic, after all; I’d been so obsessed with Autumn, so determined to know her better, so afraid of what that might mean, that this denial had encroached into other areas of my life, too.
