"Look at me," Joel commands, and I raise my eyes to meet his. The connection is electric, intimate in a way that has nothing to do with our physical positions. "Tell me you want this. Want me."
"I want you," I breathe, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull him closer. "Please, Joel. I need you inside me."
He groans at my words, one hand tangling in my hair to pull my head back, exposing my throat to his mouth as he begins to push inside me.
The stretch is amazing, a burning pressure that walks the line between pleasure and pain. He goes slowly, giving me time to adjust, his control evident in the tension of his muscles under my hands.
"So tight," he groans against my neck. "So perfect."
When he's fully seated inside me, we both pause, breathing heavily. I feel impossibly full, split open and claimed in the most primal way. Joel's forehead rests against mine, his breath washing over my face as he struggles for control.
"Okay?" he asks, and the concern in his voice makes my heart clench even as my body throbs with need.
"More than okay," I assure him, shifting my hips slightly to take him deeper. "Please move."
His first thrust nearly lifts me off the table, and I cling to his shoulders for support. Each subsequent movement is measured, deliberate, hitting spots inside me that send sparks of pleasure racing along my nerves.
The table creaks beneath us, the sound mingling with our heavy breathing and the occasional pop of wood in the fireplace.
"Fuck, you feel good," Joel growls, his pace increasing as his control begins to slip. "So wet, so tight around me."
I can only moan in response, my body already climbing toward another peak. His hands grip my hips, fingers digging into soft flesh as he pulls me into each thrust. The slight pain only heightens the pleasure, anchoring me to the moment as sensation threatens to overwhelm me.
Suddenly he stops, still buried deep inside me. Before I can protest, he's lifting me again, carrying me away from the table.
I cling to him, gasping at the sensation of being filled and moved at the same time. He lowers us to the floor in front of the fireplace, where a thick rug provides cushioning against the wooden planks.
"Want you under me," he explains, positioning me on my back.
The firelight plays across his features as he finally strips off his shirt, revealing the muscled expanse of his chest and abdomen. Scars mark his skin here and there, and I reach up to trace one that runs along his ribs, fascinated by this map of his past.
Joel catches my hand, pressing it flat against his chest where I can feel his heart hammering. "Later," he promises, lowering himself over me.
He enters me again in one smooth thrust, and I cry out at the deeper penetration this position allows. His weight presses me into the rug, the thick fibers tickling my back as he begins to move with renewed purpose.
Each thrust is deeper, harder than before, the restraint he'd shown earlier giving way to something more primal.
I wrap my legs high around his waist, changing the angle, and we both groan as he slides even deeper. The position allows him to grind against my clit with each movement, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my core. My hands roam over his back, feeling the muscles flex and release with each powerful thrust, marveling at the controlled strength in his body.
"Joel," I gasp, feeling the tension building again, stronger this time. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."
"Not stopping," he growls, pace increasing. "Not ever stopping. You're mine now."
The possessiveness in his voice pushes me closer to the edge. My hips rise to meet each thrust, my body arching beneath him, seeking more, seeking everything he can give me. The firelight casts our joined shadows on the cabin wall, merging and separating in rhythm with our movements.
Joel shifts his weight to one arm, the other hand sliding between us to find my clit. The pressure of his thumb, coupled with the relentless thrusting of his cock, sends me hurtling toward the edge.
My inner muscles clench around him, drawing a guttural sound from deep in his chest.
"That's it," he encourages, circling my clit with precise pressure. "Come for me, Ariel."
His words push me over, and I shatter beneath him, waves of pleasure crashing through my body. I vaguely hear myself crying out his name, feel my nails digging into his shoulders, but I'm lost in the overwhelming sensation.
Joel's rhythm falters as my inner muscles contract around him. With a guttural groan, he buries himself deep and follows me over the edge, his body shuddering with release.
The pulsing heat of him inside me triggers aftershocks of pleasure that leave me gasping and clinging to his solid form.
For long moments, we stay like that, connected in the most intimate way, our breathing gradually slowing as we come back to ourselves. Joel's weight presses me into the rug, but it's comforting rather than crushing.
