He groans. “Bossy.”
“You like it.”
“Yeah,” he admits, then pushes in, and we both gasp.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “You feel… Jesus, Delta.”
“Keep going,” I whisper, nails digging into his shoulders.
When he’s fully seated, our hips flush, we just stay there for a second, until I tell him,
“Move.”
He pulls back and thrusts in again, slow at first. The friction makes me shiver, pleasure sparking through me all over. He finds a rhythm that’s deep and steady, moving together easily. I cling to him, meeting his thrusts, letting sounds slip out of me I’ve never heard from my own mouth. He murmurs rough praise against my neck; how good I feel, how beautiful I am, how he’s not going anywhere. I hear every word. The angle shifts, and suddenly he hits a spot inside me that makes my vision blur. I cry out, arching, and he does it again, deliberate now, watching my face.
“Don’t stop, don’t...”
He doesn’t. His pace picks up, thrusts sharper, hand sliding between us to circle my clit again in time with his body. It’s toomuch and not enough at the same time. The pressure builds fast, faster than before, coiling tight and hot.
I grab his face, forcing his eyes to meet mine. “Don’t look away,” I say.
“I won’t,” he promises.
He holds my gaze as he drives into me, as his hand works me closer and closer to the edge. I feel him start to lose rhythm, feel his body tense, hear him curse under his breath.
“Come with me,” he grits out. “Please, baby. I need…”
The plea is what undoes me. I fall over the edge with a sharp cry, the orgasm tearing through me, pulsing around him. He follows a heartbeat later, groaning my name like a prayer, hips stuttering as he spills inside of me. He keeps moving through it, gentler, until it’s too much and we both collapse, breathless and sweating, tangled in quilts and each other. For a long moment, the only sound is our breathing and the faint rattle of the tent in the breeze.
Eventually, he shifts, careful, and pulls out, lying down beside me on his back, chest still rising and falling fast. I roll onto my side and rest my head on his shoulder, one leg thrown over his. His arm comes around me automatically, hand splaying over my hip.
“Well,” I say, staring at the lantern light dancing on the canvas ceiling. “That was… not terrible.”
He snorts, then laughs, the sound deep and incredulous. “You’re insufferable.”
“You like it,” I say again.
He turns his head and kisses my forehead. “No,” he says quietly. “I love it.”
Outside, the night settles over Copper Ridge. Inside the tent, wrapped up in him, I feel safe, wanted, chosen, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself believe that I might get to keep all three.
Trace
Delta is draped across my chest, her breathing is slow, her hand resting right over my heart. I run my palm down her back once, slow, feeling her relax even more.
“Baby, you need to sleep,” I murmur against her hair. “Miss Evie’s party is tomorrow and you’re the one running the whole show. It’s going to be a long day.”
She groans into my neck, stubborn even half-conscious. “Five minutes.”
I smile because I already know how this goes. “No, not five, go to sleep for real.”
She doesn’t argue again, just melts right back into me and knocks out like somebody cut the lights. I tuck the blanket around her, holding her close, and I can feel her whole body soften against me. I pull the blanket up around her, settle deeper into the pillows, let my hand rest on the small of her back so she feels me there even in her sleep.
I am just starting to drift when her phone rings, it’s not a gentle text buzz it’s a loud ringtone. Delta does not move, I shake her shoulder lightly. “Delta. Your phone is ringing.”
She mumbles into my chest, barely awake. “Trace, leave me alone, I’m sleeping.”
I try again, rubbing her arm. “Could be important, sweetheart.”
