“Look at you,” he murmurs in wonder. “Taking me so deep... coming apart on my cock... fuckingdrowningme in your juices.Fuck.”
I tremble, oversensitive and raw. His thumb swipes through the wetness on my thigh, brings it to his mouth. “So good. So...mine.”
In the silence, with our sweat, his cum, and my release cooling on the rug, I feel it.
Chosen.
Not just taken.
Worshiped.
Cherished.
We lie tangled together on the rug in front of the dying fire for the longest time. Sweaty and sated and perfect.
I glance at the hallway door. Still locked.
“You think we woke her?” I ask.
He shakes his head, then stands to dispose of the condom. He comes back with a damp clothfrom the kitchen and a spare blanket from a drawer, and cleans us both up with gentle hands.
“Water?” he asks.
“Please.”
He brings me a glass from the kitchen. I drink half. Pass it back. He finishes it.
Then he’s pulling me against his chest. Tucking the blanket around us.
“Sleep,” he murmurs into my hair.
“We should go back to the couch.” Even as I say it, I’m burrowing deeper into his warmth.
“In a minute.”
A minute turns into five. Then ten.
My eyes drift closed. The fire’s glow barely visible. The sounds of the woods outside muted and distant.
Marco’s heartbeat steady under my ear.
This.
This is whatsafefeels like.
Right before sleep claims me, I feel him shift. Hear the soft clink of metal.
He’s retrieved my bracelet from the lamp knob. Setting it carefully on my folded sweater.
Getting ready for morning.
For whatever comes next.
And I realize, for the first time since we arrived in these terrifying woods, I’m not counting breaths or fighting panic or white-knuckling my way through fear.
I’m just here.
With him.
