Page 44 of Stranded

He’s as hard as me. I can feel the length of him desperately straining against his pants, grinding into my thigh.

It makes my head spin. I’ve never felt this before, and I want so badly to feel it a thousand times again. Over and over, I want to make him hard and then pull me into him so I can revel in what I’ve done.

He grabs my face, pressing his mouth to mine in a burst of quick, fiery, insistent kisses that last no more than a breath. I retaliate by turning my head, kissing along his stubble-covered jaw to his ear, tasting him… exploring every spot that makes him tremble.

Our limbs tangle together as stones dig into my back, and I don’t care.

I want this.

“Fuck,” Ronan gasps, one hand curling around my wrist as he trembles above me. “Y-You’re good.”

It takes a minute to remember how to make my mouth do anything other than savour the taste of him, and drink in all the bliss that shines out from every cell of his body.

“Thanks,” I grunt, nipping behind his ear. He squirms and makes another soft, tiny sound that makes me want to flip us over and press between his legs. I settle for raking my nails down his back. “I’m new… but enthusiastic.”

Ronan’s moan is low and guttural.

Jesus.My cock was already aching hard, but now it’s throbbing relentlessly. I want to hear him make that noise over and over.

“I hope that extends beyond kissing,” Ronan pants for breath.

I laugh, a quick puff of breath.

He really has no idea what fantasies he’s pulling out of the furthest reaches of my body, and planting dead centre in my mind.

“It does,” I promise him, running my nails slowly up his back. “It really, really does.”

Ronan whimpers, one hand rising to his chest. I bask in the sight of the fading orange light catching his hair, the shadows against his body…

But I want to see more of him.

Alotmore.

“Should we go home?” I murmur, even though it’s not a question, or even really a suggestion.

Ronan’s eyes open as he stares hazily down at me. He smiles playfully and whispers, “I thought you’d never ask.”

It makes me remember that first night: all his flirtation, and my yearning, and the collision of duty and desire.

“Come on.” Ronan pulls away from me to shove things into the backpack without much care at all. He doesn’t even put lids onto containers… and, to my own surprise, I don’t stop him. I join in.

In seconds, we’re packed and on our feet. We stumble across the stones and through the trees, squinting in the growing gloom. When we reach the road, I set a quick pace, and Ronan holds on tight around my arm.

My mind is racing.

This is happening. In fact, I don’t know if I can stop it from happening… and I probably should feel worse about that than I do.

It’s a struggle not to freak myself out about it.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Ronan asks as we turn the final corner. He wriggles his fingers into my palm and traces circles on my skin, glancing up at me between steps.

I swallow hard and squeeze his hand in mine, trying to think how to say it.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” I admit at last. “But I know the one thing I can’t do.”

“Can’t?” Ronan prods. “Or shouldn’t? Or won’t?”

I see why he’s asking, but I don’t know how to explain it. I pause, and then I try my best. “They’re the same thing to me. Or as good as.”

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