We were messy now, both of us hot and misted with sweat. I could hear the wet between her legs. Just like the lazy Sunday way it started, I wanted it this way too. I wanted it rough and unclean, and I wanted to feel her fingers around the base of my cock every time she worked herself the way she needed. Nothing about this was pretty. It wasn't beautiful, even when the most beautiful woman I'd ever met was bearing down on my shaft with such force I seriously wondered whether I might black out.
"I can't believe how hard you are," she whispered. "It's rude."
"You're rude," I growled back. "You shove those tits in my face one more time and I'll bite them."
She slammed down on me and when her breasts brushed up against my jaw again, I took hold of those beauties. They were mine now. I teased her with my beard because I knew she loved it and I teased myself with the feel of her light brown nipples on my lips because I loved it.
I felt myself teetering on the edge, just close enough to fall over, but Jasper was enjoying herself, even if her brows were pinched in fierce concentration, and I wanted another few minutes.
I lost myself in nipping at the tender underside of her breasts and pinching those nipples between my fingers. She didn't like pain in the grand sense—she didn't want anyone belting her and I respected that—but she had no problem with bites and pinches and pulling hard enough to mark her with fingertip-sized bruises—and I was into that. I didn't want to belt anyone but I didn't know how to fuck without doing it rough. I didn't know how to do it without leaving marks.
And that was what I did to those gorgeous tits. I marked the fuck out of them and I lengthened and swelled every time she let out another breathy wail-sigh that told me she felt those bites in her cunt.
"Lin," she called out. "You're—" She lost her words on a sob. "Now, now, now. I need it now."
Reaching up, I closed my hand around her throat. My hold was loose but it did it for both of us. She ground against me, forcing my cock as deep as I could go, and purred as I filled the condom. I didn't know how she could feel it but she did. She felt it enough for her body to work me even harder. Everything was liquid heat, everything inside and outside too.
Jasper leaned in close and rubbed her cheek against my jaw. Her eyes drifted shut. I slipped my hand into her hair, held her close.
"What do you need, Peach?"
I figured she'd want me to lick her or pet her clit or take her into the shower and do this all over again. Something like that.
Instead, she rested her forehead against mine, saying, "I really want some toast. An extra toasty slice too. Nice and browned. Just butter and some of that clementine marmalade." She shrugged. "Probably two slices. Yeah, definitely two."
The only thing I knew was I wanted this every weekend. Every fucking one of them. And that was a really dangerous thing to want.
We weren't due in New Bedford for dinner with my family until later in the afternoon so I talked Jasper into a post-breakfast walk in the woods. She wanted to make lists about her lists, or something of that sort, and I could not allow that while the conditions were bright and dry.
I couldn't allow us to stay in bed all day either. Regardless of what I'd vowed on Friday evening, sixty hours of sex wasn't going to fly. Aside from the fact I was not twenty-five anymore, I didn't want to use Jasper. Not even one bit more than was right—which was a line that never clearly materialized in the moment but glared obviously after the fact.
Enough people had used Jasper and they'd used her in ways that were wrong from the start. I wasn't going to be one of those people.
"Are we looking for anything today?" she asked. "A specific tree or something?"
"Nothing in particular," I said, watching as she picked her way around a cluster of rocks. "We might be able to find some chanterelles though. We've had a good amount of overnight rain in the past couple of weeks."
"And chanterelles are…?"
"Mushrooms," I replied, reaching for my phone. "Here. I'll find a photo so you can keep an eye out."
She leaned against my chest while I searched for a good image. Her hair was coiled in a low bun and smelled so lovely, just so lovely, and I could see down her shirt from this angle. Life was really good.
"Why are we looking for these mushrooms?"
"My mother likes them," I replied. "She doesn't have much patience for foraging but she's appreciative whenever I bring some home."
Jasper nodded as she studied the image on my screen. "So, you're trying to butter her up with fungus? Are you that worried about bringing me home to meet the family?"
I pocketed my phone, giving her a bland stare. "No. I'm not worried."
"But you'd like to get on your mother's good side. With the fungus."
"Believe me, Peach, bringing you home by itself lands me on the good side." I grabbed a fallen branch and tossed it out of the path. I wasn't sure how much I wanted to tell her—if anything—about my mother's anniversary party deadline. I didn't want Jasper thinking any part of this was a game to me. I really didn't want her to think I was manipulating her. "My mother is very interested in seeing me paired up."
"That is not new information." She glanced over at me, a cheeky grin stretched across her face. "She did not hide her enthusiasm the other day. There was definitely a minute when she looked me up and down and said to herself, 'Yep, those are some good birthing hips.'"
I barked out a laugh but didn't disagree because my mother would absolutely do that. "The chanterelles will give her something else to focus on for five and a half minutes. That will help with the overall hovering and gushing. She might even hold off on asking you how many kids you'd like to have."
"Not for long," Jasper said with a laugh.
"Just ask her about Magnolia and the babies or Ash and Zelda's wedding," I said. "That will distract her."
"Okay, got it." She gave me the cutest wink in the world, one I was certain she didn't intend to be cute but came out that way nonetheless. Then, "So, family dinners are a pretty big deal for y'all, huh?"
This part of the trail was completely empty. That was normal around here. We were far from the primary trails, and even in the busiest of seasons, these woods rarely reached anything resembling busy.
"I can't decide if I'd call it a big deal or a normal mechanism of my family's functioning. The truth lies somewhere in between."
"Then you've made a tradition of it."
"I think we inherited the tradition, at least some parts of it. I think it goes back to my grandparents or even my great-grandparents."
"Yeah, that's a tradition." Jasper pointed at an oak tree ahead. "Is that your mushroom?"
"That's chicken of the woods. Not a chanterelle."
"Do we like that?"
I shook my head. "Not a ton, no."
"Okay, well, back to your multigenerational traditions, please. I want the full briefing before you send me in."
"It's not a multigenerational tradition, that much I know." I laughed because my parents were some of the least traditional people I knew. At least they'd started out that way. "Look, this might come as a shock but my parents were pretty countercultural before they had us. Anti-establishment, fight the power, down with the man."