Chapter 10: Day 9 - The Morning After
A deep, bone-deep cold had settled into the tent by pre-dawn. The kind of cold that existed at altitude, a sharp, thin presence that seeped through the thickest sleeping bag. Julie woke to it first, the brittle silence of the mountains broken only by the rhythmic, shallow sound of Mark’s breathing beside her. Then she felt the other thing. The heat.
His calloused fingertips were tracing the rim of her ass, light as a whisper but burning against her skin. The memory of the plug, of the brutal, full stretch, was a fresh bruise on her body and mind. She didn’t move. She let him trace. Behind her, pressed against the curve of her thigh, was the hard, insistent proof of his morning erection. Even in the depleted aftermath of the summit and the frantic claiming in the lower camp, his need for her was a living thing. Or maybe his need was for this – for the final, promised act that would strip the last fifteen years of polite distance away forever.
She shifted slightly, turning her head on the thin pillow. In the faint blue light filtering through the canvas, she could see his eyes were open, watching her.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice a sleep-roughened scrape.
“So are you.”
“Can’t sleep. My body doesn’t know what altitude it’s at anymore. Just knows it hurts.” His fingers dipped lower, circling her other entrance, already slick from her own involuntary response. “And it knows what it wants.”
She swallowed. The air was so thin. Every breath felt deliberate. “Two days,” she whispered, echoing her promise on the summit ridge. It felt like a lifetime ago. “The schedule’s accelerated.”
“Fuck the schedule.” His hand moved from teasing to purpose, his middle finger pushing inside her cunt, finding her wet and swollen from the night before. She gasped, arching back against him. He worked his finger in and out, a slow, obscene preparation. “You’re still loose from last night,” he murmured into her ear. “Still messy with my come. You think that’s enough? You think I’m gonna be gentle with you now?”
“No,” she breathed. It was the truth. Gentleness wasn’t the point. The point was the claiming.
He withdrew his finger, brought it to his mouth, and sucked it clean with a vulgar pop. Then he was moving, his body a solid, commanding weight behind her. He rolled her onto her stomach, not roughly but with an utter lack of ceremony. He pulled her hips up, arranging her on her knees, her face pressed into the musty fabric of the sleeping bag. The cold air hit her exposed skin, raising goosebumps.
He spat into his palm, a crude, efficient sound. Then he rubbed the wetness between her cheeks, over the tight, forbidden pucker that had been stretched and filled just hours before. She heard the slick sound of him stroking himself, coating his cock.
“Look at you,” he said, his voice low and dark. “Kneeling in the dirt to get her ass fucked by a man she who's not your husband". He placed the broad, blunt head of his cock against her. “You want this? You really want this?”
“Yes.” The word was muffled by the bag.
“Say it.”
“I want you to fuck my ass, Mark.” Her voice was clear now, stark. “You will do it. But not now.”
Da