Page 12 of Que Será, Syrah

“This.” I leaned down, cupped her face in my hand and kissed her. She tasted of summer, of wine and flowers and sunshine, the last of which made no sense at all, since we were kissing in the dead of night under a full moon. But it was what it was and everything about that kiss felt right to me. I hadn’t kissed a ton of girls at that point, but I’d kissed enough to know this was something special.

I levered myself on top of her, loving the way her long legs immediately wrapped my hips to hold me in place. She’d tunneled her fingers into my hair and deepened the kiss, lips moving under mine, tongue slipping out to tentatively brush against my own. When I sucked her tongue into my mouth she groaned and began grinding against me, rubbing herself against my thigh.

I slid a hand up under her shirt, gliding over skin that felt impossibly warm and smooth. The barely-there bra she wore was made of thin, stretchy material; it presented no barrier. I pushed it, and her T-shirt, out of my way, shoving them both above her breasts. I palmed a tit, squeezing softly, loving the feel of the hard little point of her nipple poking into my hand, the soft whimper that fell from her lips.

“So sweet,” I said, settling my weight on my elbows. “Gotta taste ’em.” But when I glanced at her face, seeking permission, I was startled by the flush on her cheeks, the agonized expression and half-closed eyes. And all at once, I realized she was still moving against me, faster now, more urgently, while her nails dug into my shoulders, hard enough that they’d leave crescent-shaped indentations that I’d spend days hiding. “Damn, are you gonna come like this?” It was not what I planned to ask, and the question pretty much answered itself. “Yeah, you are.” I’d gotten girls off before, but never like this. “No, no, don’t stop,” I begged as her rhythm faltered, and embarrassment added more color to her face. “You go and get it, take what you need to get yourself off. I want you coming so sweet, giving it all up for me.”

When she continued to hesitate, I leaned down and swiped my tongue across one tight bud. And then again, and again, until her hips had picked up their pace again. One of her heels was digging into my back, the other was planted on the ground, providing leverage. I had my hands on both tits now, cupping them firmly as my mouth alternated between them, lavishing them both with attention, all the while murmuring encouragement. “That’s it. That’s it. All for me. Let me have it.”

When I felt her start to come, I lunged forward, sinking my teeth into the muscle where her neck met her shoulder, sucking and biting, marking her for my own while she shuddered beneath me.

Eventually, I raised my head to meet her gaze. “That was fucking hot,” I told her. “Let’s see if it was a good for you as it looked.” I slipped a finger up the leg of her shorts—no great distance—found her clit and ghosted a light touch over it, chuckling when she uttered a small “eep,” and flinched away from the contact.

“Too soon?” I asked, not surprised when she nodded. My hand itched to touch her again anyway; to touch her again and again and watch her dance against my fingers. I knew I could make it feel good, but she’d as good as said no, and I had to respect that. We didn’t know each other hardly at all, so she had no reason to trust me to play and not hurt her.

Ignoring temptation, I moved my finger lower, slipping into her wet heat. “God, you’re so wet,” I groaned, barely able to hear myself speak over the rush of my blood, loud in my ears. “I want to be inside you.”

She nodded. “Yes, I want that too.”

“Yeah?” I asked, checking in with her. “You sure? Not too soon for that?”

She shook her head. “No. Please. Now.”

Well, that worked for me. I sat up, hands going to the buttons of my jeans. Watching as she did the same—then getting distracted as she shimmied to get her shorts off…

All at once, however, she stopped, eyes going wide with something that was not lust. Something that looked a lot like dismay. And then I did the same as the distant roar I’d been hearing for the past few minutes grew louder, resolving itself into the sound of engines, racing towards us, coming closer.

“Oh, shit,” she muttered, the words barely audible, as she pulled her shorts back up and scrambled to hide beneath the bushes, pulling me down with her. In another instant, fairyland faded beneath the blaze of headlights as maybe half a dozen ATVs hove into sight. We hunkered down where we were, saying nothing, barely even breathing, as they flew past us, headed toward the clearing where most of the party was taking place.

As soon as they’d disappeared around the bend, she went into motion. Pulling her clothes together and jamming her feet into her sandals, muttering, “Shit, shit, shit,” beneath her breath. “Fucking hell. What are they doing here? Damn it. It’s just like them to pull something like this. I fucking hate them.”

“You know those guys?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, I do,” she said as she slid to her feet and grabbed my hand. “They’re my cousins. C’mon. This way.”

Her cousins? “Wait. Where are we going?” I asked, balking a little as she tried to lead me down the same path her cousins had just come from. What if there were more of them? What if they decided to circle back?

She paused and looked over her shoulder at me. “Do you trust me, or not?”

“I…don’t know. Should I?”

“Yes! Because I know what I’m doing. Now…Oh. Shit.” She turned to face me. “Wait. Did you drive here? You didn’t, did you? Because if you’ve got a car back there, that’s gonna complicate everything.”

“No. No car. I got a ride with some friends. But?—”

“Okay, good. I mean, sorry about your friends, but come on. I know a way out.”

She took me along a path that ran through the bushes, probably originally made by deer coming down to drink at the river. And then over a small footbridge that I would never have found on my own. Wending our way through fields of grapevines, we eventually emerged onto Silverado Trail.

I glanced around me, trying to get my bearings. I didn’t know this part of Napa well at all, but it was quiet, cool, and dark. And, best of all, no one was chasing us. The fog had rolled in. The stars were hidden—as were we. “I think we got away,” I said, and my voice sounded unnaturally loud.

“Yeah, we’re good,” she agreed, almost whispering. “They won’t think to look for me here. And if they do, well, it won’t matter. Will it?”

I had no idea. But that’s not the part that snagged my attention. “Wait. Is that what that was? You think they were out there looking for you? Was it because of the wine? Or…?”

“Nah,” she replied. “Stop tripping. They barely remember I exist. Plus, I already told you; they won’t care about the wine. They’re just all miserable and can’t stand the idea that someone else might be having fun when they’re not.”

I had a pretty good idea that she was wrong on at least two of those counts, but what did I really know? “So, what now?” I asked. I was hoping she’d suggest some place we could go to continue where we’d left off. Perhaps a barn we could sneak into, or a bedroom window I could climb through, or a car… A car would be real good, I thought, suddenly remembering that I was miles from home, without any means of transportation. If she had a car, we could park somewhere secluded and finish what we’d started. And then afterwards, she could maybe drop me off at home.

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