Henry pressedhis lips to the hollow of Ivy’s throat, and her head tipped back, offering more of herself. His mouth traveled lower, trailing a path of kisses from her neck to her collarbone.
His fingers found the buttons of her blouse, fumbling slightly in his eagerness. Ivy reached up, helping him. The fabric parted, and he pushed it off her shoulders, his breath catching at the sight of her.
“God, Ivy,” he growled, the bear in his voice more pronounced now.
She reached behind herself, maintaining eye contact as she unhooked her bra. The lace slid away, revealing the perfect curves of her breasts, her brown skin luminous in the dim light. The contrast of her darker areolas against the warm honey tone of her chest made Henry’s mouth water.
She reached for him, pulling him closer, her fingers tangling in his hair as he trailed kisses down her body. Her scent grew stronger, more intoxicating, the vanilla notes mixed withthe unmistakable musk of her arousal. His bear rumbled with approval deep within his chest.
Henry had never considered himself a gentle man. His life in the wilderness demanded strength and resilience. Yet with Ivy, he found himself capable of tenderness he hadn’t known he possessed. His hands cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing across her nipples, drawing a sharp intake of breath from her. Her flesh was warm velvet in his hands, the perfect weight, as if designed specifically for his touch.
When his mouth closed over one peaked nipple, a throaty moan escaped her lips. The sound ignited something within him, driving away the last of his hesitation. He sucked harder, the tip of his tongue flicking rapidly across the sensitive bud, his other hand continuing to knead her opposite breast.
“Oh god, that feels good,” she groaned.
The praise drove him further, his inhibitions falling away like shed clothing. He moved to her other breast, giving it the same attention, teeth grazing lightly across the sensitive peak. Her body responded gorgeously, hips lifting in unconscious invitation, thighs parting slightly.
The scent of her arousal grew stronger, an irresistible call to the bear inside him. One hand slid down her stomach, fingertips skimming beneath the waistband of the borrowed sweatpants.
The vulnerability in her eyes struck him to his core. This brilliant, confident woman was coming undone beneath his touch, trusting him with her pleasure. The responsibility of it, the privilege, overwhelmed him.
Her panties were damp, and the feeling of it nearly undid his control. His finger traced the outline of her sex through the thin fabric, feeling the heat of her through the barrier.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he murmured. His eyes lifted, meeting her gaze as he hooked his fingers into the sides of her underwear.
He pulled her panties and sweatpants down her legs. The sight of her spread before him, naked and horny, took his breath away. Her sex was swollen with desire, glistening in the firelight, her thighs already tensing with anticipation.
Henry slid from the couch to kneel before her, his eyes never leaving hers as he settled between her parted thighs. The firelight danced across her brown skin, creating an ethereal glow that highlighted every curve and shadow of her body.
“I need to taste you,” he whispered, his voice barely recognizable, rough with desire.
Ivy’s breath caught, her chest rising sharply as he lowered his head. His strong hands spread her thighs open wider. The first contact of his mouth against her pussy sent a visible shudder through her entire body, her head falling back against the couch cushions, exposing the elegant line of her throat.
“Henry,” she moaned, the sound breaking in her throat as her fingers found his hair, threading through the thick strands, nails scraping lightly against his scalp. “Yes.”
The first taste of her was beyond anything he had imagined. Sweet and musky, and it awakened something primitive in him. His bear stirred, heightening every sensation—the velvet softness beneath his tongue, the heady scent that filled his nostrils, the warmth of her thighs pressed against him. His own body responded instantly, his cock hardening in his jeans.
She was soaking wet, her folds slick and swollen with desire. Each circle of his tongue against her clit drew a gasp from her lips, her fingers tightening in his hair, guiding him. Her responsiveness was intoxicating—every flutter, every tremor felt like a gift meant only for him.
“Just like that,” she encouraged, her voice breaking when he found a rhythm that made her thighs quiver.
Her back arched slightly off the couch as she pressed herself against his hungry mouth. His cock strained painfully against his jeans, every sound she made intensifying his need. He slid a finger through her silken heat. Her reaction was immediate and vocal—a sharp cry that echoed in the cabin. “Oh god,” she gasped, her voice thick with pleasure.
A second thick finger slid inside her, stretching her deliciously as his tongue continued to work her clit. Her inner walls gripped him tightly, hot and slick around his digits. He curled his fingers forward, searching for that spot he knew would drive her wild.
Her sudden gasp told him he’d found it. He focused his attention there, rhythmically stroking that swollen area inside her while his tongue circled her clit with increasing pressure.
Her scent changed subtly, growing richer, more intoxicating. His bear recognized the signals her body was sending, understood she was approaching release. “You taste so good,” he murmured as her juices flooded his mouth.
Her hips began moving in an instinctive rhythm, seeking more friction, more pressure. Her breathing became labored, little desperate sounds escaping with each exhale. “Don’t stop,” she begged, one hand gripping the couch cushion beside her, knuckles white with tension.
He increased his efforts, his fingers finding a perfect counterpoint to the movements of his tongue. The room filled with the sounds of her pleasure—gasps and moans that drove his bear to the edge of his control. The scent of her arousal grew stronger, feeding his own desire until it was almost painful in its intensity.
“I’m gonna come,” she gasped. Her thighs trembled, her breathing became erratic, and her inner muscles began to contract around his fingers. He maintained his rhythm with unwavering focus, giving her exactly what she needed. “Oh god! Yes! Henry.”
Her release hit with stunning force, her body convulsing beneath his mouth. Her sex pulsed around his fingers, her thighs clamping around his head as waves of pleasure washed through her. He continued his attentions, gentler now, helping her ride out every last tremor of her orgasm.
The sight and taste and smell of her pleasure struck Henry with unexpected intensity. Something shifted in his chest, a fundamental reorganization of what mattered in his world. This—her pleasure, her satisfaction—suddenly seemed more important than anything else he’d ever pursued.
