The Invitation

You

“Do any of you hike?” you ask. The question is addressed to the table but you were looking at her when you spoke. The immediate flurry of responses from everyone making it clear that not one of them has realised who your question is really aimed at.

“My fingers do all the exercising I’ll ever need thank you very much!” one laughs.

“You wouldn’t catch me dead anywhere near that much nature on purpose!” another exclaims.

“Urghhh, I used to a long time ago but I just can’t with the early mornings,” says a third regretfully.

“You’d have to bribe me with a trail of snacks and alcohol I think, Hansel and Gretel style,” another states, taking a swig of their drink.

“I think anyone who hikes is possessed and needs to get their head checked,” another voice, sounding slightly horrified. The sentiment is echoed by most of the others as they all jokingly tried to outdo each other with the claims about how much they dislike anything to do with hiking.

You barely listen to them, waiting for the only answer you really care about. She meets your look over the top of her glass as she takes a sip of her drink, the corner of her mouth quirking up into an almost smile before her eyes slide with exaggerated slowness towards the bag you’d seen her fishing a wallet out of earlier.

You keep your expression innocently neutral as she shakes her head slightly, knowing she is fully aware that you’d recognised the pins it was decorated with for what they were - commemorations of hikes and trails all around the country.

She stays quiet and you can’t help the cocked eyebrow that reveals your impatience, her equally innocent expression that dissolves into silent laughter making it clear she knows exactly what she is doing. She waits a few more beats before answering and her quiet “I hike” seems to drown out every other sound, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

You’d volleyed the ball into her court, seeking an opening. And she had granted it with a spectacular return that would have left you floundering if you hadn’t been half expecting it. Because she’d been throwing you off balance since the moment you’d met just a few hours before, when your table and hers had decided they’d had enough of trying to talk across the gap between you and pushed them together.

You’d held onto her hand just a little longer than necessary when you’d introduced yourself, let her see the flare of interest in your eyes when she’d turned a querying look at you. She’d tilted her head slightly, not breaking the look, clearly considering.

She’d pulled her hand away, but you would swear by the little smile that had curved her lips that the brush of fingertips across your palm had not been an accident. And then she had gotten up to help carry a round of drinks back to the table and sat down in the chair across from you instead of the one next to you where she’d been originally.

You’d raised an eyebrow at her and she’d shrugged lightly, the smile she’d given you all innocence while the look in her eyes was a clear challenge. You’d hummed softly to yourself in appreciation. She’d been interesting before, but now that she’d thrown down the gauntlet so to speak…she was pure temptation.

And the hunt has always been your favourite part of any encounter. What did or didn’t come after was just a delicious reward.

Her

She has been wondering for a while now whether you had any intention of taking this mutual flirtation between the two of you any further. The brief touches that had lasted just a little bit too long to be purely casual, shared looks and fleeting smiles that said a thousand different things without a word being exchanged, your subtle double entendres and her seemingly innocent innuendos lacing conversations between and within earshot of each other.

It has been a slow racking up of tension that has her shifting restlessly in her chair, trying to find a position that would relieve the slowly throbbing ache between her legs. And she wasn’t going to lie that she had been sorely disappointed when she realised the evening would soon be coming to a close, with her returning to her hotel and you returning to somewhere else…somewhere that she wasn’t.

But this. This was an interesting twist. “So you hike,” you say and she is lost for a moment in the sound of it. God your voice. It was what had drawn her attention to you in the first place. That silken sound drifting towards her during a brief lull in the hubbub around her.

She’d found herself losing focus on the conversation around her while she tried to describe it to herself. Warm, just a hint of velvet, smooth and sultry. The type of voice that crooned soulfully into the microphone at some smoky hole in the wall while its owner strummed along on a beat-up guitar.

She reaches for her drink to cover her moment of distracted daydreaming. “Yes, I do.” She turns to you, placing her glass on the table but keeping her hand wrapped loosely around it, her thumb brushing away the condensation gathered on the outside. Trying to keep her hands busy so she wouldn’t reach for your hand, your arm, your leg.

Feel the soft warmth of your skin instead of the cold glass under her fingers. It was why she had moved across the table from you in the beginning. Because if she’d stayed sitting next to you she would never have been able to resist giving in to the urge to feel whether your skin was and warm and soft and smooth as your voice.

It was. She knew that now. Because her hands had a mind of their own and had found a way to drift over to you ever since you’d managed to find your way back to the seat next to her. God. You were dangerous for her self-control. Thank goodness she’s switched to something non-alcoholic ages ago.

Because then she didn’t know if she wouldn’t be able to give in to the urge to find out if your lips matched your voice and your skin. She finds her gaze drifting to them every time you speak. You’re wearing a shade of red lipstick that is daring her to kiss it off. And she has never been one to back away from a dare.

But not now. Not…yet.

You

She swallows, her eyes closing for a moment as she takes a breath and you can’t help being a little disappointed for a moment. The way she had focused on your lips, her aquamarine eyes darkening to a mossier shade. You knew exactly what she’d been imagining.

You had felt the pressure of that look as though it was her lips on yours, had felt yourself leaning into the kiss that hadn’t happened. Felt your body responding to the way her eyes had darkened, your nipples tightening, the curl of heat she’d been feeding all night clenching tighter.

“Yes, I hike. Why do you ask?” You curse silently, shift back in your chair, reach for your own glass. This woman was doing her best to be the death of you through the slowest and most exquisite torture you had ever endured. And damn her if you didn’t want more.

“Well, I am going on a hike tomorrow. My usual partner had to bail on me, work thing. So…” you let the sentence drag out, trail into silence.

“Sooo…what?” she’s wearing that innocent expression again and you have to laugh, shaking your head. She wasn’t going to give a single inch.

“So I need a partner and I’m going to assume you’ve never done any of the trails around here because you said you’d never been here before,” you say.

“You assume right,” she states. She’s going to make you spell it out the little witch.

“So how would you feel about going on a hike tomorrow morning, with me as your personal guide?” There. You’ve asked. You can feel yourself holding your breath a little as you wait for her answer. If you had your way, you wouldn’t be waiting so long to get her on her own.

But one of the friends you were here with was crashing at your place tonight, you already knew she was sharing a room with someone in her group and you had a good feeling that even the hint of an audience would be an instant ‘thanks for the memories’ as she headed out of the door, never to be seen again.

But it was one thing to spend a night flirting with someone in a bar, and maybe go home with them if the flirting went well. Quite another to agree to meet them hours later. And for a hike no less. Not exactly the sexiest of invitations. And so you held your breath.

She does that little head tilt thing that you find absolutely adorable. Bites her lip, which you’ve noticed she does when she’s thinking. And which you find incredibly distracting. “Alright,” she says softly. You can’t help the triumphant smile you flash at her.

“Perfect! Can I pick you up at your hotel in the morning, say around 6 am?”

“Yes, that will be fine. I don’t have my usual gear with me though. Wasn’t really expecting to go for a hike.”

You assure her that it’s fine, glance at your watch and groan a little inside. This was going to be the longest eight hours of your life.

Eight Hours

Her

She is staring at the hotel closet, trying to decide which of her unsuitable for hiking outfits she is going to wear. Jeans might be a good idea, but she hadn’t asked you how long a hike you were planning. And if you were still out there once the sun got fully up all you’d be able to think about is taking them off.

Although maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing she thinks to herself, grinning a little. Maybe she’d even ask you to help her get them off. She shakes her head firmly. I need to stop thinking like this she tells herself silently. Need to stop thinking about you taking her clothes off.

About your hands exploring her skin. About her mouth exploring…Jesus. She’s doing it again. Getting herself lost in some little fantasy. Eight hours was a lot of time in any situation. It was definitely more than enough time for all that heat the two of you had built up last night to have cooled.

Except. That kiss. God, that kiss.

She still couldn’t decide if that had been a good idea. But you’d just been so damn sweet in that moment and she hadn’t been able to help herself. Her group was just getting started with their night and wanted to go to some other venue, your group was divided between going with them and going home, and she just wanted to get back to the hotel.

She’d told everyone it was because she wanted to get some rest before her early morning, but when she’d looked at you as she said it — she knew that you had seen the truth in her eyes. Knew that you knew that she’d been fighting the urge to grab you by the hand, drag you into some dark corner somewhere and finally ravish your mouth the way she’d wanted to from the first moment she’d heard your voice.

Push you up against a wall, kiss her way down your neck, pop the buttons on that wispy blouse and finally fill her hands with your breasts. Or her mouth. Because her hands would be sliding up along your thighs and under that flirty little skirt that had been tempting her to find out whether you were a silk or cotton kind of girl.

Grabbing your ass and pulling you against her as she ground into you. Jesus. She needed to stop this. That kiss though. She couldn’t get it out of her mind.

And she wanted to do it again.

You

You can feel the thrumming of your heart as you pull up to the last traffic lights before the hotel. You’d told her last night that if she changed her mind about going on this hike (date?) with you, that all she had to do was not be waiting outside when you got there.

You’d even told her that you didn’t need to exchange numbers because you could leave a message with the front desk for her if you needed to tell her anything. And she could do the same. You’d been squeezed into a spot at the bar ordering a last round of drinks before everyone split up for the night when you’d said it.

Facing each other with barely a hands width between you. Close enough that you could feel the heat of her on your skin, knew that if anyone jostled either of you that you’d be right up against each other. Feel her denim-clad leg between yours if you shifted just right. Feel the softness of her curves pressed against your own.

You’d hoped someone would jostle you. And then it hadn’t mattered. Because she’d shifted forward, lifted herself up onto her toes as she slipped a hand under your hair to pull your lips down to hers — and kissed you. Not urgent and ardent and bone meltingly carnal the way you’d expected.

Instead, it had been slowly exploratory, achingly heartfelt, and utterly sensual. Also agonisingly unforgettable. “Thank you,” she’d said softly, before getting the bartenders attention, ordering their drinks and taking them back to the table. Acting for all the world like she hadn’t been the least affected by rocking the very foundations of yours.

You knew she had though. You’d heard the shaky breath she’d drawn in as she turned away, seen how she’d gripped the edge of the counter so hard her knuckles had turned white.

You pull up to the entrance of the hotel and it feels like your heart is in your throat. Eight hours or however long it had been since you’d said goodnight was a long time. More than enough to have changed her mind, for the intimate pressure to have faded away.

She’s not there and you feel a rush of cold disappointment. You’d known this was a possibility but you-

The doors swing open and there she is, a small backpack slung over her shoulder and that riot of curls you’d itched to run your fingers through last night in a neat French braid that you want to tug loose. You let out an explosive breath of relief.

Thank god.

Her

She sees you pulling up and walks over to your car. “Perfect timing,” she says as she climbs in and pulls the door closed. She takes a calming breath that she hopes you don’t see as she settles herself in the seat. She’s committed now. Well committed to the hike at least, she amends in her head.

Not that she’s sure what else it could be. It was a hike after all. Not dinner and dancing. Or a trip to some secluded beach. And for all she knows – you don’t plan on it being anything more than a hike. She glances at you while you drive, sees the looks you’re casting over at her and tugs a little self-consciously at her shorts.

“I told you I didn’t have any proper hiking gear with me,” she mutters. Your chuckle is soft and she can see the eyebrow you’ve raised even though she’s not looking at you.

“And what exactly is different between what you’re wearing and your ‘normal’ hiking gear then?”

“Well shorts that are a little…” she tugs at the hem again, shrugs and grins wryly. “Less short for one.” She’s laughing with you now and hopes you don’t realise she’s also laughing at herself a little. Because she did have slightly more appropriate clothing.

Or shorts that weren’t basically denim hot pants. But she loved the way she looked in these. The way they hugged her butt and made her legs look a little longer than they actually were.

“You’ll be fine,” you assure her. “This trail isn’t heavily used, one of the reasons it’s a favourite of mine. But it’s mostly not overgrown, and also not too heavy-duty. And I’ll be here to help you over any tricky bits.”

You’ve arrived at the head of the hiking trail and both climb out of the car. She’s standing with her backpack slung over one shoulder, waiting for you to grab your stuff out the backseat when she hears your low whistle of appreciation followed by the whir and click of a shutter.

She turns, her head tilting in that little way she has when she’s asking a silent question. Your eyes track up her lean and lightly muscled legs, lingering for a moment on the hem of her shorts before meeting her amused look. “Like what you see?” she asks with a small grin. You look at the view screen on your camera with a wolfish smile.

“Well, I suppose you could say that. If it ever comes up in future, I’m voting for that to be your permanent hiking gear.” You huff out a breath, shake your head a little. “Or maybe not. Because anyone walking behind you would probably end up falling over their own feet and breaking their neck!”

She laughs, shrugs a shoulder, and meets your look with one that is full of meaning. “Then my plan is working.”

The Look

You

You swallow, track your eyes over her from head to toe. So much for worrying that the heat from last night’s flirting would have faded by now. Because she’d just ramped it right back up to where it was with that one sentence. You step close to her, reach for the loose strap of her backpack, indicating with a silent look for her to tug it up over her shoulder.

You tug gently on both, making sure the weight is evenly settled and also pulling her closer to you. You dip your head down, hear her breath catch a little as your murmur in her ear. “Then both our plans are working.” You glide a hand down from the strap, over her waist, and to her back before using the motion of you stepping around her and the slight pressure of your fingers to turn her towards the trail.

“We’d better get started before it gets too hot,” you say. You let her go ahead of you for the first section, wanting her to experience its beauty without any obstacles and knowing that there is nothing along this part of the trail for her to worry about navigating.

Letting her go ahead also allows you to confirm your theory. That those shorts of hers stop right at the top of her thigh, revealing just a hint of the soft curve of a buttock with every step she takes. You shake your head slightly and your whistle of appreciation is silent this time.

You’re glad the trail is wide enough in most places for you to walk side by side, because you are almost positive that you would be the first to fall victim to that outfit if you stayed behind her for too long. The trail widens so you step up beside her, and now it’s the light citrus scent that you know comes from her and the light brushes of her arm against yours as you walk that are distracting you from the trail.

Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea after all.

You shake your head to clear it, realizing that you’ve not said a word since you left the car and she’s throwing slightly concerned glances at you. You don’t want her to think that you’re regretting this decision so you catch her eye, let the heat of the thoughts you’d been having while behind her blaze to life in your eyes for a moment before tamping it down gain. You watch her eyes darken in response and smile.

Or maybe it was the best idea.

Her

Although she keeps her eyes focused on the trail and the little things you’re pointing out as you walk, she is as aware of every inch of you and can’t help the little fantasies happening in her head. The way your shirt dips into your cleavage, hugs your breasts in a way that makes her glance at her hands, envisioning how they will spill over her fingers when she cups them.

Your long legs, pale but lightly tanned, tangled with the deeper tan of hers in rumpled sheets. Your hands spanning her waist as you explore her body, the soft pale pink of your lips closing over the dusky rose of her puckered nipples, her fingers tracing gently over the dusting of freckles on your skin, following with her mouth down over your stomach towards – the sound of your camera startles her out of her thoughts and she realizes that she has stopped walking.

You’re standing a short distance back from her, looking at her over the top of the Nikon cradled in your hands.

“I think that is going to become one of my favourite photos.  Because whatever you were thinking about right then…” you look down at the screen of your camera. “That look would set the world on fire.”

She smiles at you and it is slow and languorous and full of sensual promise.

“I was thinking about you actually,” she says softly, her voice all melting honey on warm buttered toast. She watches how you look down at your camera again, sees your small swallow, the brief blazing in your eyes, the slowly exhaled breath and her smile becomes something a little more teasing.

“Something to remember me by when I’ve gone back home, in case you need it.” You look back up at her, matching the teasing smile with your own.

“As if I’d need a photo to remember you. Or that look.” You shake your head and she laughs, moving past you on the trail. She hears you letting out another slow breath before feeling you fall into step beside her. Those fantasies are still lurking in your head, just waiting for you to pull them out and let them play again.

So you start asking her about her camera, how long she’s been into photography, where her favourite shooting spots are. Giving you both a moment to catch your breath.

You

You’re answering her questions, pointing out some of the more interesting sights along the trail, pausing every now and then to take a few more photos of the trail, places where nature has arranged itself in some interesting way as though just waiting for someone to capture it, and of her.

She takes your camera a few times to take some photos of you as well, laughing that photographers are like ghosts in their own stories. All these images of their life and yet they’re in none of them. But all the time in the back of your head, you’re remembering that look.

The way her eyes had darkened to a shade of green that matched the dark shaded spaces between the trees you were making your way through at the moment, staring into the distance of whatever visions had been happening in her head, the way her lips had been softly parted, glistening slightly from where she’d licked them, the light flush that had darkened her cheeks and dusted across her collarbones.

You give yourself a mental shake. She hadn’t even hinted at what she’d been picturing since you started walking again. But you know that if it is anything like what you have been picturing about her since you met her last night, when you’d been lying awake in your bed last night, while you’d been showering this morning and since you’d gotten an eyeful of those shorts – when the two of you finally gave in to the urges you’d been keeping at bay it was going to be…explosive.

Mind-blowing. Unforgettable. Everything you’d imagined and more.

You’re coming up to your favourite part of the trail, the whole reason you’d chosen to take her to this one. A little offshoot that most people had no idea existed. You’d found it by accident one day, trying to capture a stunningly coloured butterfly as it danced from one lonely wildflower to another.

You’d been so focused on it and on making sure you didn’t step wrong as you followed the butterfly that you hadn’t looked up until you’d suddenly found yourself flooded by sunlight. You’d found yourself close to the edge of a small cliff overlooking the forest you’d just walked through, large boulders scattered along its edge and a view that took your breath away a little every time you saw it.

You can’t wait for her to experience it for the first time, watch her face as she comes around that last little turn and the vista is spread out below her.

And you won’t lie that you want to see her in your favourite place, the sun glinting off the warm honey of the sun streaks disappearing into her dark braid, turning the little tendrils of hair that have escaped it into a wispy halo that frames her face, turning her aquamarine eyes into an oasis you have to fight not to drown in.

Quite a View

Her

She’s following you down a nearly invisible path that had branched off the main trail. You’d been a little surprised when she first ducked onto it, one minute right next to you and the next gone behind a little spray of leaves from a low fern. She’d followed, only seeing the faint hint of a little-used path once she’d gotten past them.

She was stepping carefully, it was more overgrown here and more debris littered the thin track. The last thing she wanted to do was twist her ankle and have to hobble all the way back to the car. Unless they had rangers with ATV’s around here that they could call?

Either way, it would mean cutting this outing short. And that was definitely the last thing she wanted to do. She was enjoying your company, the conversation about your work and hers, hiking trails you’d both done, discussing her hobbies and yours.

The innuendo and double entendres you’d both been lacing into it was just a bonus. You holding her hand as you guided her over a section of rocks, the tingle that had raced up your arm every time she took it in hers.

The arrows of heat shooting through her every time you touched her, whether by accident or on purpose.

The scent of you invading her very pores her every time you draw close; soft and spicy, a hint of blackcurrant wrapped up in something that echoed the trail you were on, a pleasing blend of earthy woodiness.

You’ve stopped and turned to her, and she pauses, struck again by the green hazel of your eyes framed by the muted fire of your burnished copper hair. You’re saying something and she shakes her head to clear the thoughts. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I was saying that what I’m about to ask is a little odd but I’d appreciate it if you just indulge me.”

“Okay,” she nods, her lips quirking into a questioning smile. You tell her to trust you, just wait right here until she calls you, swear to her that it will be worth it.

You

You hurry to the end of the path, barely glancing at the view while you look around for somewhere to set your camera up. You’ve been wanting to try interval timer photography for a while and this is the perfect opportunity. Because you don’t want to be distracted by trying to capture her taking in the scene she’s about to see.

Instead, you want to just watch her, absorb every expression as she takes it all in for the first time. You get everything ready, make sure your camera is set up properly, set your intervals to five minutes with three shots per interval, take a couple of test shots until you’re satisfied everything is just right.

Then you stand back and call her, looking to the spot where she’ll come out of the trees. And it is as perfect as you’d imagined. She’s focused on you at first, but then she notices the backdrop of the vista behind you. Her eyes widen and her mouth rounds into an oh of awed surprise, her hand going to brush her hair away from her face – as though the little tendrils that have escaped her braid are blocking her view.

The sky is a breathtaking shade of cerulean blue, blending into the soft line of the city on the horizon, the forest a dark green carpet broken here and there by splashes of colour from a variety of flowering trees. You hold out your hand to her and she takes it without looking away from the scene spread out before her.

 Her voice is soft and awed, a little breathless. “Oh wow. This is just…” she shakes her head and you know that she’s searching her vocabulary, struggling to find the words to describe what she’s seeing. “Beautiful,” she says finally. “More than that but beautiful is all I’ve got right now.”

You nod, pull her up next to you and take it in together. You don’t let go of her hand though, liking the way it fits in yours, the slow thrum of heat you can feel echoed in hers. She leans in to you, her fingers tightening on yours. “Thank you,” she says.

“For showing this to me. Sharing it with me. I’ll never forget it.” You glance down at her and find her looking up at you. Find yourself drowning in the cool blue-green of her eyes. You use you clasped hands to pull her closer to you, feel her turning slightly towards you as you dip your head.

You feel the hand not holding yours sliding along your jaw to cup the back of your neck as your lips find hers, hear her low murmur of pleasure while your mouths move gently together, lazily tracing the cupids bow of her lips and you feel them part, take it as an invitation to explore the warm recesses of her mouth, tongues moving in a slow dance of learning.

Her

She feels you pulling slowly away and can’t help the small sound of disappointment as she opens her eyes to find you smiling down at her. “Been wanting to do that for the longest time,” you say and she can hear the barely bridled hunger, the low throb of passion.

It sets off an echoing throb low in her belly and she turns fully towards you, her hands finding their way under your shirt, gliding up over your back as she stretches up to take your mouth again. “Been wondering how long it would take you,” she murmurs against your lips and now her kiss is hungry and seeking, her hands roving over your back.

Her fingers trace the indentations of your spine, pressing closer to you because she needs to feel more of you. Her hands have slid your shirt up higher and now they’re drawn to the faint washboard of your stomach. She traces the muscles higher, rucking your shirt up more, before encountering the elastic of your sports bra.

Your hands are doing exploring of their own and she can feel them on her butt, the kneading as you pull her against you, your fingertips exploring the hem of her too-short shorts. They shift and now your fingers have slipped beneath the hem, the tips finding the edge of your panties, exploring.

Your hands being where they are has pulled her shorts tight against the swollen heat between her legs and she gasps at the sensation, moaning softly into your mouth.

She runs her hands over your bra, feeling the taut nipple beneath the soft material and now it is you moaning into her mouth. She tries to slip her fingers beneath it but the band is a little too tight. She makes a small sound of frustration and pulls away slightly.

Looks to you for permission before gripping both and pulling them up over your head. And then she is finally filling her hands with your breasts and they spill over her fingers just like she’d imagined. She cradles them, dips a head to one passion-pink nipple, and draws it slowly into her mouth with a soft hum of pleasure.

She is circling it with her tongue, flicking over the pebbled softness when your fingertips dip lower, beneath the edge of her panties, and between her slickly swollen folds. Her cry is short and sharp and breathless, her hands gripping onto your shoulders and she sways a little.

But your arms are there, wrapped around her, holding her steady.

“Whoa,” her laugh is breathy, glancing at the edge of the small cliff you’re standing on. “That was close.” She can feel the pounding in her chest but she’s not sure if it’s from the fright she just got or from the feeling of finally feeling your hands on her, your lips on hers, all of you pressed against all of her.

“Oh!” she gasps again as you lift her into your arms and move further away from the edge. Her legs go instinctively around your waist, her arms around your neck and her mouth finding yours again. She feels something at her back, a boulder probably, and slowly lowers her legs until she’s standing pressed between you and whatever is behind her. Her mouth finds the hollow behind your ear, leaves a wet trail down your throat.

She feels you tugging at her shirt and she raises her arms obligingly.

What a Hike

You

You drop her shirt onto the small blanket you’d laid out on the rocks earlier, leaning back slightly to take in the vision of her. The flush of passion dusting along the curves and hollows of her body, the pale triangles where the sun had never touched her skin.

You reach a hand out to cup her breast, run your thumb teasingly over a nipple, bend your head to flick at it with your tongue. You slide your thumbs through the loops of her shorts, use them to tug the denim tight against her, smiling at the hiss she releases in reaction.

You do it again, feel her grind against the friction. “More,” she pants, popping the button on her shorts, grabbing your hand and trying to guide it to the aching throb begging for relief. She gives an almost sob of frustration as she wriggles the shorts off. “More, please.”

You notice a small outcropping and guide her toward it, grabbing one of your shirts to cover it before you press her back onto it with your hand between her legs, your finger circling her clit before teasing at the entrance to her delicious warmth.

She strains towards you, her grip white-knuckled on the edge of the outcropping. You curl an arm around her back, dip your head down to capture her lips, let your fingertips dip, and tease a little more, your thumb rolling over her clit.

You feel the waves of tension rolling over her, feel her clenching tighter and tighter, approaching the brink as you circle and press, dip, and tease. Her eyes open, heavy-lidded and that same forest green shade you’d seen earlier.

“Please,” she pants almost breathlessly.

“Yes,” you whisper hoarsely in return. You curl your arm tighter around her, use your hip to press her leg back, opening her further. And then you thrust into her. Driving hard and deep, her cry swallowed by your kiss, using your hips to slam into her again and again as her passion floods your hand, drips over your fingers, and onto the rocks beneath her.

Her

When she returns to herself, she finds that she is no longer seated on the edge of the small outcropping and is instead below it. She feels like she should be uncomfortable with the rock pressed against her bare back but somehow she isn’t.

You’re kneeling over her somehow, occupied with a lazy exploration of her breasts, your hand cupping her still, fingers stroking gently as she comes down from the stratosphere you just catapulted her into.

She knows you haven’t realized that she is back to full awareness and she moves slowly, reaching a hand between your legs, her fingers pressing against the seam of your shorts. You jerk against her hand and she presses again, rubbing slowly back and forth before her fingers move to undo your button.

Your shorts are as form-fitting as hers and she doesn’t even bother trying to fight her way into them, simply sliding them down over your hips. Her hand slips between your legs again, her fingers gliding through slick heat of your passion, seeking out your clit and circling it slowly.

You rock into her hand with a soft sigh of pleasure. She curls her other hand around the back of your thigh. Using subtle pressure to guide you where she wants you. You’re standing over her, the pink lips of your swollen folds right in front of her.

“Need to taste you,” she says, licking her lips. She looks up along your body, reaches between your legs, and cups your butt, pulling you forward. She sees your eyes widen in understanding just before her tongue darts out to lap at the damp heat between your legs.

You lift one, giving her better access and her soft hum of approval vibrates against you. You are deliciously wet already, and she times the soft stroking of her tongue to the aftershocks she can feel still rolling through the both of you.

Your hips are already rocking you against her mouth when she finds your clit, sucking it into her mouth, her teeth scraping softly as she rolls it with her tongue. “Ooohhhhh,” your groan is soft as her tongue glides along your slit, finding and pressing into the tight entrance that guards your core.

You gasp and she grins, her arms curling up around your hips to pull you harder against her mouth. Her tongue is thrusting into you, twisting and curling as she laps. Finding your clit and swiping over it, pressing with the flat of her tongue, building your pleasure into a peak once more.

You

Your hands are braced on the rocks in front of you, your lip caught between your teeth as you grind against her face. The coil of heat looping through your body pulls steadily tighter and you can feel your breath starting to catch as she nibbles and sucks and licks.

The rough velvet of her stroking, an exquisite torture that brings you ever so slowly to the edge. Her fingers tighten on your hips and she draws your clit deep into her mouth, her tongue curling around it as you moan softly, your eyes closing and your head falling back.

And then she bites, just a gentle nip. But your clit is already so swollen, so sensitive, so achingly close to exploding that it pushes you over that edge she’s been keeping you balanced on and your cry is short and sharp, echoing out over the cliff.

Your legs have gone weak but she has one hand braced against your hip and helps you to lower yourself slowly beside her as you catch your breath, your head pillowed against her shoulder. “What a hike,” you murmur and her soft laughter joins yours.

She tilts your chin up towards her, leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “What a view,” she says quietly. “Quite unforgettable.” You hum quietly in pleased agreement. You look out over the vista, thinking about how this has always been a favourite spot.

But now, with these memories to replay and relive every time you return. This spot right here would rank as your number one favourite for the rest of your life.

Epilogue

Her

She checks the room one last time to make sure there is nothing of hers left behind, then grabs the handle of her bag and heads towards the elevators with the rest of her group. She is quiet and they leave her to her thoughts, chatting among themselves.

She’s thinking about you, of course, about every moment you’d spent together in the last few days since that hike. You’d still been working so she’d spent the mornings and afternoons doing whatever touristy things her group had cooked up for the day.

But she’d excuse herself as soon as the sun started setting and then head for the hotel to check for your message about what the evening’s plans were. Normally silly little messages that wouldn’t mean anything to anyone like “Wear a dress, see you at seven” or “I hope you like Asian, jeans will be fine.”

But now it was time to go home and she couldn’t help feeling a pang of sadness at the thought of never seeing you again. But that was the nature of holiday flings. They were brief snatches of bliss stolen out of an otherwise average life. They could never last forever.

Neither of you had gotten any sleep on your last night, but you’d arranged to make up the time you’d miss off work and spent the morning with her too. Lovemaking followed by a breakfast of leftovers followed by more lovemaking.

She had felt you working up to asking her if she wanted a ride to the airport, prolong your time together, but she’d stopped you before you could. She’d leaned over you lying in the passion rumpled bed, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips before indulging herself by stroking her hand slowly over your body one last time.

“I’m going to go now, and I’d like to remember you just like this. Your hair in a mussed halo of fire around your head, your naked body warm and soft and sated on top of the tangled sheets and your eyes just that shade of hazel green. Thank you for taking me on that hoke, and for making this a trip I’ll never forget.”

Then she’d left, and had to fight the urge to go back every moment since.

She’s busy checking out when the desk clerk hands her something. “Oh miss, this was left for you a little while ago.” She frowns, glances down at the envelope marked Private. What on earth? She opens it, glances inside, and fishes out a small note.

“Something to remember me by when you’ve gone back home, in case you need it.”

She has a feeling she knows what is in the envelope and steps away from everyone. Making sure no one is near her, she slides a photograph out of the envelope. It is an image from the day you went hiking and she feels herself slipping back into the captured moment as though it is happening all over again.

You biting your lip, looking down at her head between your legs, her tongue lapping at you. Both of you naked except for the shoes neither of you had gotten round to removing during the entire encounter.

She feels the instant weeping of moisture between her legs, slides the photo back into the envelope while she shakes her head with a smile.

As if she’d ever need anything to remember you by.