It’s been so long since I’ve let anybody get close to me. And now that I have, I find myself wanting to enjoy it for a while, whether it hurts her or not.

But that’s not fair to her. It’s not her fault I’m this way. And, ultimately, she shouldn’t have to pay the price for it.

As Laney eases her stick into the fire, letting the marshmallows hover just above the flame, the metaphor is not lost on me—her getting too close to the flame, her in danger of getting burned. Badly. I know what she’s doing. And I know I should stop her. And I will.

Just not yet.

I reason that she’s not past the point of no return yet. I’ve still got a little time to enjoy what we have before I have to make my move.

And enjoy it I will.

One of Laney’s marshmallows catches fire and she jerks back her stick, blowing the flaming blob until the fire is doused. Gingerly, she picks off gooey globs of sticky sugar and plops them in her mouth.

“To never have been camping before, you sure have this part down pat,” I observe, smiling as she licks white cream from her fingers.

“Any kid who’s ever been near a fire of any kind has roasted marshmallows.”

“Ahhh, so you’re an old hand at it.” She nods and smiles. “Obviously you enjoy it.”

“They’re made of sugar. And they’re melty. What’s not to love?”

I stare at her beautiful face, the one that matches what seems to be a beautiful soul.

What’s not to love, indeed.

A big blob drops off Laney’s stick and hits the front of her shirt. “Awww,” she whines, picking at it to salvage what she can. “I hate to waste even one bite.”

Before I can even suggest it, as if reading my mind, Laney lays her empty stick to the side and slips her shirt over her head. Her bra is the color of the setting sun and, in the soft light, makes her skin look like it glows.

Within a fraction of a second, my body is as hot as the fire I’m sitting in front of.

A month ago, she would never have done something like that. Hell, a couple of weeks ago she wouldn’t have done something like that. She’s come a long way.

Where has the time gone? And how can I get some of it back?

When she’s finished picking marshmallow from her shirt, I catch her before she can put her shirt back on. “I’ll make you a deal,” I tell her. “I’ll share some of my marshmallows with you.” She’s paused with her arms half raised above her head and she’s peeking at me over her hands. “On one condition.”

One of Laney’s eyebrows rises, something she’s just started doing. Something that drives me wild. “What’s that?”

“I get to feed them to you. But I’m messy, so you’d better take the rest of your clothes off.”

Even in the low light, I see her pupils dilate. She doesn’t answer me. She just lowers her arms. Slowly.

At first it seems she isn’t going to answer me at all. But then, with her eyes locked on mine, she stands to her feet and reaches for the button on her shorts. She unbuttons then unzips them.

Very deliberately, very carefully, she wiggles her hips back and forth as she slides the khaki material down her long legs. When she straightens, I see that she’s not wearing any panties. She must not have put any back on after she changed out of her wet clothes earlier.

I get hard immediately.

“Where do you want me?” she asks, her expression the picture of innocence.

I pat the ground beside me. “Right here. You’ll stay warm near the flames.” Gracefully, Laney steps toward me then sinks down to the ground. “Lie back,” I tell her.

And she does.

I hold the stick of marshmallows over the flames for a few seconds to make sure they’re nice and hot before I dip my finger into one. The crispy outer shell gives way to a hot, sticky center that coats my finger. I trace it over Laney’s bottom lip. “Lick.” I watch the pink tip of her tongue sneak out to snatch the sugar from her lip. My mouth waters. “My turn,” I tell her.

I get some more marshmallow on my finger and I drag it from her chin down to the valley between her breasts. I bend my head and use my lips and tongue to lick her skin clean.

“Mmm, delicious,” I say when I raise my head and meet her eyes. Laney says nothing, but I can hear her short, heavy breathing. She’s excited. And when she’s excited, I’m even more excited.

I scoop some more marshmallow onto my finger and hold it to Laney’s mouth. “Open,” I tell her. Wordlessly, she parts her lips. I slip my fingertip inside. It’s all I can do not to strip and dive right into her when I feel her suck on it and swirl her tongue around the tip.

With my eyes locked on Laney’s, I reheat the remaining marshmallows. After a few seconds, one catches fire. I hold the stick up to Laney’s lips. “Blow.”

Obediently, she puckers her lips and puffs out the flame.

“My turn again,” I state, leaning forward to hook my finger under the edge of her bra strap and tug it down. When one button-like nipple is exposed, I pierce the browned marshmallow and dip my finger inside, transferring the warm gooeyness onto Laney’s nipple. I hear her gasp at the heat of it. I look up at her face and see her eyes drift shut in ecstasy. “So sweet,” I whisper as I bend over her to suck away the sticky sugar.

When I straighten, Laney opens her eyes and looks at me. Her lips are parted, and I’d be willing to bet if she were wearing panties, they’d be soaked.

“Where else can I put some?” I ask.

I see her pearly teeth sink into her bottom lip and I suppress a growl. I tighten the hold on my libido. I want to draw this out a little longer. No matter how much it hurts me.

I smear a shiny, white streak down Laney’s stomach to her navel, where I deposit a blob of cream. Leaning forward, I lick the trail and then lap up every last bit of marshmallow from her belly button.

Her stomach trembles as I lick a little lower. My cock jumps in response. She knows where I’m headed next. She knows what I’m going to do. And she’s practically vibrating with anticipation.

Straightening, I put the stick in the fire once more. I heat the remaining marshmallow. When the outside starts to darken, I remove it. I blow on it until it cools enough that I can handle it. And then I stick my tongue right into the hot center. It burns, but not enough that I can’t tolerate it.

Bending over Laney, I nudge her legs farther apart with my elbow and run my sugar-coated tongue between her folds, leaving a hot, sticky sweet trail all the way down the crease to her opening. The noise she makes is somewhere between a gasp and a moan. To me, it just sounds like a plea for me to continue.

“That’s it, baby,” I say, moving my lips against her, “you know I wanna hear you.”

I lave her slick flesh with my tongue, enjoying the sweet taste of marshmallow mixed with the sweet taste of Laney. I suck her clit into my mouth. She digs her fingers into my hair and holds me to her, her hips moving against my face. I push one sticky finger inside her. She’s warm and tight and so, so wet. I move it slowly in and out of her, in a rhythm that matches my tongue. I hear her start to pant, so I slide another in beside it. More aggressively, I penetrate her with my fingers as I lick her into a frenzy.

Her hips move in time with me, and when I feel her muscles tense, I thrust another finger in alongside the first two and slam them into her until I hear her cry out.

Laney’s voice echoes through the ravine below, my name bouncing back around us. But I’m not done. And neither is she.

Sliding my tongue down, I thrust it inside her, licking her higher and higher into her orgasm. My need for her is building.

I smell her delicious body, more mouthwatering than the marshmallows. I taste her natural sweetness, pouring onto my tongue and mingling with the sugar. I feel her everywhere—her hands in my hair, her legs brushing my face, her body writhing against my chest.