Insatiable

No one expects to fall in love over conversations about cows and constellations across thousands of miles.

But no one could have expected the likes of him, least of all me.

I'm usually the type of woman who walks blindly into passion, chasing a feeling that consumes me like wildfire. Getting lost in the intensity and immediacy of that irresistible heat is almost as much of a rush for me as the feeling itself, and I've been a prisoner to my pursuit of that intensity for as long as I can remember.

But with him, I chose every careful step as I walked, eyes wide open, into his fire. Unlike the wild fires that came before him, consuming me along with everything else in their path, he was a pillar of control, a carefully curated arc of white hot flame that burned hotter and with more intensity than any wild flame I'd ever encountered. The difference was, he was a choice I made- not a thing that happened to me.

His white-hot deliberate fire became the gold standard for my affection until I found that, somehow, there was no one else. It was him and him alone that I saw, that ignited the twin flame in me even across the ocean that separated us.

We spent months cultivating that slow burn into something tangible, layering familiarity into the chemistry of our easy conversations and sexual tension. The distance did little to mask our connection and ensured that every step was just as deliberate as the first we had taken toward one another. Often a conversation would stretch on until it lasted all night, until the sun was rising in his sky, and each day and week that passed as we worked through the ashes of our respective lives to uncover one another. By the time we took the leap to meeting in person, I felt more sure of him than anything I'd ever done before. Which is probably for the best since we jumped in with both feet, planning a multi-day coastal road trip instead of doing something simple like dinner and a film.

___

Amid the planning and dreaming, our "what ifs" become "whens" that lead right to the moment he is pulling up to my hotel, the sun so fittingly peeking over the horizon as we meet for the first time. He steps out of the car, arms open and dark eyes dancing, his smile brighter than the rising sun as he takes me in. I fold neatly into his embrace, my head on his broad chest and his arms around me like I belong there. There is no hesitation in that moment,it's as if we have always been. It marks the end of the wondering, and the beginning of what is to be.

And there is so much to be.

We'd squeezed as many of our hypothetical plans into our adventure as possible- hiking, waterfalls, fairy glens, stargazing and sampling all the interesting cuisine we could find. Each of the high points on my wish list is accounted for with his hybrid trip organization- half well planned and half devil may care. Early on, I'd mentioned my fascination with fluffy cows, and he'd off handedly promised he would make a note. I hadn't forgotten- I take my cows very seriously- but assumed he had.

At least, I assume as much until he abruptly pulls off the frighteningly narrow strip of pavement and into the grass on a largely quiet and unremarkable stretch of coastal highway on the second morning of our trip. I shoot him a puzzled glance, but when he gets out of the car and motions for me to follow, I see why we stopped.

"Cows, love. As promised," he tells me proudly.

Sure enough, fuzzy sepia-toned cows adorn the hillside just beyond the road and my heart soars. He remembered.

I beam at him and close the space between us to press my lips to his in a grateful kiss. I lean into him, winding my arms around his neck as I deepen the kiss. It takes only moments of this innocent kiss to heat my blood, the warm fuzzies of his thoughtfulness sparking my always lingering desire for him, but too soon he breaks away with a knowing smile and takes my hand.

He leads me up a small incline, carefully navigating the soft grass to avoid stepping in any nasty surprises, until we are standing in an open field at the top of a gently rolling hill. To my left, the cows dot the impossibly green grass. To my right, a narrow strip of pavement that winds through the landscape and just beyond that, the coast. I am surrounded by beauty begging for my attention yet I am focused only on the man behind me as his arms loop around my waist. He tilts his head into mine to rest his cheek against my hair.

This moment is perfect; the world around us so beautiful I can barely fathom it as reality. I feel alive in a way that has me buzzing with restless, needy energy. And all of that energy hones in on my acute awareness of his proximity to me, an awareness that I've taken to as if I've always known it, until the gorgeous scenery is nothing but an afterthought and I'm closing my eyes, swaying a little as I press my ass against his hips. I feel the heat of his body so close to mine, and his breath against my cheek is coming just a little shallower as his arms tighten and shift around my middle until he grips my hips instead to still me.

I turn in his arms so I'm facing him, chin tipped up and mouth seeking his as I slide my hands up his chest and fist them in his shirt to pull him toward me. On my tiptoes, I catch his bottom lip between my teeth softly. His eyes close, falling into that needy feeling that seems to pull us both under at a moment's notice. He kisses me then, his hands dropping to the small of my back as I whimper into his mouth.

Cows be damned.

I want him.

Now.

Here.

My hands drop just as his did, over his chest and stomach, my nails catching the edge of his shirt then under it so I can drag them against his skin lightly until I reach the waistband of his jeans. I run one finger beneath it, testing his limits for my desire in this moment.

"I don't know how," he murmurs against my lips, "we keep finding ourselves in these situations."

"It's you, you're insatiable." I tell him as I break the kiss to look up at him with wide eyes.

He says nothing, but arches a brow and leans away from me to stare pointedly at the hand I am now trying to wriggle into his snug jeans. I just stare back, unblinking and unapologetic.

Finally, I manage to grasp him despite the confining fabric and squeeze his already-hard length as if to say "see?"

He rolls his eyes, but I don't miss the hitch in his breath at my touch. It makes me dizzy with power and lust. My own breath shudders, pulse picking up as my gaze drops to his lips, and I'm thinking about the road over my shoulder. The open spaces around us and all the opportunities for getting caught. The thrill of it runs through me like a lightning bolt.

"Love," he says, voice dropping from conversational teasing to husky and sex-soaked, "we're in a fucking field."

"Mhm, the operative word is fucking. If we're in a fucking field, we should be fucking."

"Holy shit, you're ridiculous," he laughs, lips catching mine in a kiss that's fiery and anything but ridiculous. I run one hand up the front of his shirt, fisting it in the material and drawing him tighter against me. My other hand remains between us, fist wrapped around his cock but pinned motionless between our bodies and his jeans. I am stuck until he relents so I kiss him hard, pouring the ferocity of my desire into him with every roll of my tongue against his as I moan into his mouth.

It doesn't take long like this before he's growling against me, his hands hot and urgent as they find their way under my hoodie and grasp my hips. His firm grip slides to my ass, tugging me tight against him. I rock into him insistently, my fist tightening around his cock.

"Fuck sake," he mutters in lusty defeat, one hand releasing me to undo his jeans and give me the access I want. I waste no time in embracing this concession, and I drop to my knees in front of him in the plush grass. I look up at him, grinning wildly as I free his cock from his jeans, bringing him out into the cool air of the open field. He just shakes his head at me, exasperation and lust warring for dominance in his darkening gaze.

But when I open my mouth, tongue darting out to taste him, the lust wins. I can feel the shift in his body as his hands plunge into my hair, tugging and twisting the wild strands around his fists as he guides my mouth down over his length.

"Fuck, yes. That's good," he breathes, curling his fingers against my scalp as his hips tilt to angle his cock down my throat. I accept it greedily, moaning around him as the heady rush of sucking him off in an open field consumes me until I feel him in the back of my throat.

Long before I'm ready to stop, he's pulling my head back, breaking our contact and I'm bereft at the loss of him filling my mouth. But then he's dropping to his knees in front of me and kissing me, mouth hungry and wet on mine as he eases us back into the grass until I'm laying on my back and he's looming over me, hands and mouth all over my body. Pushing my hoodie up past my bra until it's over my head and falling to the ground, he brushes his fingers over my nipples through the lace as his lips ignite flaming chills across my skin. His kisses ghost over my jaw to my neck and across my collarbone where his teeth raze the sensitive skin at the hollow of my throat.

I may have started this game, but it is clear he's winning it when I'm whimpering as his head dips to my breast, hands grasping at his shoulders and ankles hooking around his waist to pull him toward me.

"Please," I gasp as I feel his hot mouth close around a nipple through the thin fabric of my bra, though I'm not sure what exactly I'm asking for. I hope he knows.

My attention dances through the overload of experience and sensation. His now-familiar body above me, the muted gray-blue sky above him and the vivid soft grass below us both. The ocean, the world, stretching out in every direction with nothing to contain the desire that's driven us to our knees in the middle of a field.

His hands brace his body on either side of my head as he brings a leg up between mine and I'm rocking into him, grinding myself against his thigh as he uses one foot to push my leggings and panties off until I'm naked from the waist down. I arch my back, pressing my breast into his mouth and my bare pussy to his denim-clad thigh as I make a needy, breathless sound. I feel him laugh against my nipple even as he's pulling away. He sits back on his knees, hands going to my hips to lift them slightly and pull me over his lap, my thighs splayed to rest over his. His gaze burns over every newly exposed inch of skin, growing hotter until he settles on the display of my desire for him with a low growl.

His eyes flash with need as they take me in and his lips quirk into a smirk as he says, "Cows excite you this much?"

"No. I think I might have seen something I like more than cows," I fire back, meaningfully eyeing his cock, still exposed and wet from my mouth. I roll my hips, fully aware of his eyes on me as I show him just what he does to me. How wet he makes me.

He licks his lips, hungry gaze fixated on my slick pussy and I can see the new war he's fighting- bring his mouth to me and repay the torturous pleasure I'd just given him or press forward, to slide his cock into me and bring us the release we both crave.

Time is not on our side, and neither is chance. Adrenaline, however, fuels my need and the urgency. Most days, I love the tease and his mouth on me but I'm aching to feel him inside me- that delicious tension that leaves me aching for more but breathlessly full. I need to feel him inside me.

I tell him as much.

"Fuck me." I murmur, my voice an urgent, gasping plea, "please."

"Fuck," he swears roughly, and I see his cock twitch in response to my words, "you and your manners."

He leans forward to kiss me, hands at my shoulders and running under the straps of my bra as he follows them down my back. I push myself up to meet his kiss as he deftly releases the clasp and removes the material so I am fully nude beneath him. At this, he smiles, admiring his unobstructed view.

"I'll never get tired of this," he tells me, hands tracing down my shoulders, over my breasts and across my stomach to grip my hips once more. His touch is reverent and gentle, a jarring contrast to the near predatory hunger in his expression. He shifts forward slightly, his cock brushing my wet, swollen lips and I reach down to guide him into me but he doesn't need the help. I am soaked and beyond ready for the welcome intrusion of his thick head as he pushes into me. I gasp, as I always do. Never prepared for the heat or friction of him, or the way he seems to know just the right angle to hit to have me writhing in moments as he pushes in to the hilt before dragging himself out of me slowly.

I match his painstakingly deliberate pace with gentle rocks to meet him as he grips my hips to steady me without impeding my movement. He flexes his thighs, eyes on the gentle bouncing of my breasts as he fucks me slowly. When his cock twitches inside of me, he sets off a chain reaction as the head of it bumps my g-spot and my back arches. We both gasp, his turning into a guttural groan as he thrusts harder into me before stilling and leaning forward to wrap his arms around me. He pulls me to him, my chest pressed against his and our bodies notched together as if we are intricately locked puzzle pieces. I am in his lap now, my legs locked around his waist as he kneels on the grass, still fully dressed in contrast to my complete nudity.

One hand slides up my spine and into my hair, gripping it and tugging until I arch my neck as he continues to fuck me with hard, shallow thrusts. Then his lips are on my neck, sucking at my skin until I'm moaning and my hands are in his hair, on his back, nails biting into his shoulders.

He nips my neck, growling a single word against my skin - "Mine."

"Yours," I say back on a gasp as he punctuates his declaration of possession with a harder thrust of his cock inside me, a harder suck of his mouth on my skin, a harder tug of his hand in my hair. I can feel the tension mounting in his body, the thick muscles of his thighs bunching beneath me as his breath grows more ragged, his thrusts deeper and less measured.

He is close, but I know he won't come without me. I shift my hips, locking my ankles together behind his back and grinding my clit against the base of his cock every time he pushes into me. The sheer power and force of his thrusts is jarring against such sensitive nerves at this angle and it's mere moments before I'm gasping, gripping him.

"I'm going to come," I tell him, and the words are barely out before I'm tumbling into oblivion, shot into the stratosphere as I'm panting his name on a broken gasp.

"Yes, that's it. Come for me," he encourages, grip still tight on my hair even when he leans back to look at me, to watch my expression and the flush of my chest as I lose control for him, but he can't watch long because the pulsing of me wrapped around him is too much and he is losing control too.

He manages to hold off though, waiting out my orgasm as my head drops on to his shoulder. His thrusts slow to shallow ones as he strokes my hair and down my back while I catch my breath. When I lift my head, looking up at him with eyes half-glazed from the intensity of my orgasm, he grins but it's punctuated by a groan. The spell is broken. He's held back as long as he can and he's going to come.

"Can you come again for me, love? Come with me," his voice is low and gravelly, pure need that forms the words as he holds tight to the control he still has. But I can feel the tension in his body, the delicious flex of every powerful muscle as he pushes into me, and he is so impossibly thick and hard, and I am so fucking full. The cool breeze of open air around us whispers over my skin and I know that, with a little help, I can indeed come again with him.

I reach down, fingertips dancing over my clit as he reaches up to grasp my breasts. He slams into me, hips meeting mine with frenzied intensity once, twice and then we are falling apart together. The world explodes around me, and inside of me once more, in a kaleidoscope of colors that echo our surroundings. I feel the heat of him, marking me from the inside out as he gives in to the pleasure, body clinging to mine and my name a reverent whisper on his lips.

My body curls into his as the world settles around us once more and our shuddering stops. The soft sounds of our ragged breaths and sloppy, sweet kisses are the only ones that linger in the open air.

At least, they're the only sounds until something much louder breaks our peace.

"MOOOOO."

I yelp, eyes flying open as I leap off him and look around wildly for the offending sound. A cow stands just a couple yards away, watching us with a wide, curious stare and chewing a mouthful of something.

No, not something... my bra. The stupid fucking cow is chewing on my bra.

Which, if his gasping laughter is any indication, he's certainly noticed as he gets to his feet and zips his jeans. He tosses me my hoodie from where it was discarded in the grass next to us, and a grin, "It's okay, love. I like you better without the bra as it is."

I glare at him, and then at the cow as I pulled the hoodie over my head and reach for my leggings, panties still caught inside. I tug them both up, but only make it to my knees before he's taking a step toward me.

"Wait," he says when he's standing in front of me. He reaches down, between my legs and runs his fingers through the cum that's painted on my thighs. He brings his fingers to my mouth, "Taste us."

I do, casting a sidelong glance at our uninvited audience as I suck his fingers clean. I feel the spark of arousal shoot down my spine at the taste of us on my tongue and close my eyes against it. Even though I've just come twice, I want more. I always want more. I am insatiable for him, and he knows it. His smile is soft and cocky as he pulls my clothing into place and smooths my hair. He kisses my forehead, and winds his arm around my waist as we begin to walk.

At the crest of the hill, we pause and I turn, waving briefly at the creeper cow before we continue on. I smile to myself, laughing at the absurdity of this entire experience.

His hand in mine, we find our way back to the car and continue along the quiet highway. I make another tally in the column for all the things that no one expected, least of all me.