That side of me, of us, it was still something I needed to come to terms with myself. Not because I was ashamed, but we never discussed what we were to each other. We'd fallen into a pattern of behaviour that was a lot of action and a few words. Panting, sweating and giving each other orgasms, but never pillow talk. Not really. Not beyond surface level conversation and banter.
I knew he was as scared as I was. What was he afraid of? The same thing he was always afraid of. That he’d put himself out there and then I’d decide it was time for me to leave Aurora Hollow.
If I was honest with myself, I always worried I'dhaveto leave. That I’d be forced to move to the city. Make a solid career that didn't rely on seasonal tourism. A job that paid a reliable, consistent wage. Why wouldn't I want that? What we did, it was the best job in the world, but it came with no guarantees. Tourists might stop coming. They could find another, favourite playground. Hell, we couldn't be sure we wouldn't break our necks next week. Or next month. Or next year.
Connor had the Frosty Brew to fall back on. What did I have? He’d have to step away from our business some day, to run the pub. He talked about expanding it. Setting up a restaurant. A hotel. He had ambitions.
One day I might not be enough for him.
"Do I want to know what you're thinking?" he asked.
No, he definitely did not. It would bring him down. I'd insist I had no intention of leaving, but it would linger in his mind theway it lingered in mine. He’d assure me taking on the pub was years away. Maybe tonight it was, but that could change when the sun rose.
"I was thinking how good your cum tastes," I lied.
He looked over at me without missing a step. "You're full of shit, Riley Crane. You're right, but you're full of shit." Of course he wouldn't buy my bullshit. He never had. Why would he start now?
"How do you know how good your cum tastes?" I was happy to change the subject and push the dark, morbid thoughts away. They took hold too easily and never seemed to want to let go.
"Because I've tasted it on your lips," he said. "It adds a delicious, salty layer to your mouth. Not to say your mouth isn't delicious already." He slid his tongue across his own lips, smiling slowly. Savouring the memory as if the taste was right there.
"Of course it is," I said as if I was offended by the suggestion. "But you're right, tasting you in my mouth is next level." I wanted to taste him right now. Right here.
As I had that thought, we walked past Leah's cottage. The windows were in darkness, not even a faint glow coming from between the blinds. Once again, I pictured her with her hand between her legs, thinking about me while I stood just outside.
"I bet she tastes good too," I said softly, breaking through my thoughts. "Tell me again what colour her nipples were."
"The perfect shade of pink." He sighed. "And the hair on her pussy matches the hair on her head."
"I wish you could paint as good as her, so you could paint me a picture," I said. "It would keep me going until I see the real thing."
I wished he took a photo so he could show me. I could look at it myself whenever I thought of her. Whenever I imagined how soft and warm her skin would be under the calluses of my fingers. It wouldn't be too long until I touched them, parted herlegs to lower my face between them. I wanted to hear her moans as she came on my tongue.
"Come on." I started walking again, a little faster now. I needed to be away from her and alone with him before I lost my load here on Main Street.
Leah fucking Kent was going to be the end of me. If I wasn't the end of her first.
12
LEAH
Walkinga little easier than I had a couple of days before, I made the camping store top of my list to visit. The temperature dropped, leaving a bite to the air. The trees had already started to turn, red and gold brilliant between the evergreens.
The breeze on my face, I crossed the road that split off from Main Street and headed down to Lake Aurora. The waterskiing capital of the area in summer, according to Whitney.
I slipped through the doorway into In Tents, a bell above it tinkling to announce my presence.
"Mornin'," an older man called out from behind the display of camp ovens. "Let me know if I can help with anything."
"Thank you," I called back.
I wandered around the store, admittedly not knowing what half of it was for. Apart from a friend's birthday party as a kid, I'd never been camping. Since that was in the backyard of their home, could I even count that? I decided I could. After all, it involved toasting marshmallows and sleeping on an uncomfortable air mattress in a tent. I'd ignore the fact we were right beside the poolhouse with access to a shower and toilet.
In the back corner, I found the section with foldout camp chairs and stools. The double foldout chair with the awning anddrink holder was cute, but I didn't need two of them. The stools were small and compact, but I might have trouble getting in and out of them, especially on a bad day.
Chair it was then. But what colour? Black, grey, blue or purple? I only took a moment to settle on purple. I liked a little colour in my life, where possible. Besides, I wore so much black, the contrast would be nice.
I lifted it out of the stand and grabbed the handle. I was about to head to the till when I spotted a matching thermal cup. Who could resist having coffee in a cup that went with my chair? Sometimes it really is the small things in life that make a difference. Also the mug had a picture of the northern lights on the side, dancing in brilliant colour. I hoped to see them for myself in a couple of months, when they lit up the night sky. I know, it was very touristy of me, but I couldn't resist.
