He pushes into me slowly, inch by inch, giving me time to adjust. It's been so long, and he's so big that there's a slight burn, but it's overshadowed by the pleasure building inside me.
"You okay?" he asks, his voice tight with restraint.
"More than okay. Don't stop."
When he's fully seated inside me, we both groan. He stays still for a moment, forehead pressed to mine, our breaths mingling. I feel so full and stretched but all in a good way.
"You feel incredible, baby. So tight, so perfect around me."
His words send heat spiraling through me. "Move, please. I'm about to go crazy."
He withdraws slowly, then thrusts back in, setting a steady rhythm that has me gasping with each stroke. My nails dig into his shoulders as he hits a spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.
Oh God.
"There," I cry out. "Right there."
"I've got you." He adjusts his angle to hit that spot repeatedly. "That's it, baby. You're taking me so well."
His praise washes over me, heightening every sensation. I'm getting close again, my inner muscles tightening around him. A coil of tension rolls through me, and I circle my hips and grind, meeting his upward strokes.
"You gonna come for me again?" he asks, his thrusts becoming more urgent. "Let me feel you."
His hand slips between us, thumb teasing my clit with just the right pressure. The dual stimulation pushes me over the edge, and I come with a cry, clenching around him.
"Fuck, Emma," he groans, his rhythm faltering. "So good, so perfect."
A few more thrusts and he follows me over, his face buried in my neck as he pulses inside me. We stay like that, panting againsteach other, his arms still holding me up even as his legs shake slightly.
When our breathing slows, he carefully lowers me to my feet, keeping a steadying arm around my waist. His expression is so tender it makes my chest ache.
"You good?" he asks, pushing a strand of hair from my face.
I laugh breathlessly. "I'm amazing. You?"
He lifts the corner of his mouth. "My knees are about to give out because I've never come that hard before."
"Me too. I feel like I can't walk anymore."
Wyatt chuckles and plants a soft kiss on my forehead, making my stomach flutter.
After cleaning up, I pull his shirt back on, loving how it smells like him. He tugs me into a kiss that's gentler than before but no less affecting.
"Hungry?" he asks against my lips.
As if on cue, my stomach growls loudly. I pull back, mortified, but Wyatt just laughs—a deep, rich sound that I immediately want to hear again.
"I'll take that as a yes. Come on."
I hover uselesslyin the kitchen as Wyatt prepares our meal, chopping potatoes and seasoning meat. He's cooking steak, and the scents filling the cabin make my mouth water.
"Can I help?" I ask, picking up a spoon and immediately dropping it. "Sorry!"
Wyatt glances over his shoulder, amusement in his eyes. "Not much of a cook?"
"Does microwaving ramen count?"
He winces. "Definitely not."
