“Please,” I gasp, my legs falling open for him. “Silas, now.”
He guides himself to my entrance, the head of his cock pressing against me, hot and insistent. He pushes inside with one slow, relentless thrust, filling me completely, stretching me until I’m breathless. I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him deeper, my nails digging into his back.
He stills, buried to the hilt, his forehead pressed to mine. “God, Mary.” His voice is rough with wonder. “You feel like home.”
He begins to move, a slow, deep rhythm that has me clutching at him, my breath coming in ragged pants. Each thrust is a claiming, a vow, a silent promise spoken with our bodies. He shifts, angling his hips, and the next thrust brushes that spot deep inside me that makes my vision blur.
“Right there,” I moan, arching against him. “Don’t stop.”
He captures my mouth again, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of his hips. His hand slips between us, his thumb finding my clit, circling it in time with his thrusts. The pleasure builds, a tight, coiling heat in my belly, spreading through my veins.
The world narrows to the feel of him inside me, the slick friction of our bodies moving together. His rhythm is perfect, deep and steady, each thrust hitting that spot that makes my toes curl. His thumb keeps up its relentless circles on my clussy, the dual sensation pushing me higher, tighter.
"Silas," I gasp, my voice breaking on his name. "I'm so close."
"I know." His breath is hot against my ear. "Let go. Come for me."
His words are the final push. The coil in my belly snaps, and a wave of pure, blinding pleasure crashes over me. My body convulses around his cock, my back arching off the bed as a raw, guttural cry is torn from my throat. The world whites out, nothing but the pulsing, shuddering release.
He holds himself still, buried deep, letting me ride out the last tremors. My muscles go lax, boneless, my breath coming in ragged pants.
Before I can even process the aftershocks, he’s moving. He pulls out of me slowly, the loss of him making me whimper. He shifts down the bed, his hands sliding under my thighs, pushing my legs apart. He lowers his head between them, his breath warm on my oversensitive skin.
"You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, his voice thick with reverence. "All wet and open for me."
His tongue finds my clit, and I jolt, a fresh shock of sensation shooting through me. He doesn't let up, his mouth working me with a slow, deliberate focus. He licks and sucks, his tongue tracing lazy circles before flicking over the sensitive bud. One of his fingers slides inside me, crooking to press against that spot again, and I cry out, my hands fisting in the rough wool blanket.
"Again," he commands softly, his lips moving against me. "Come for me again, Mary."
The pressure builds again, impossibly fast, a new heat coiling low in my belly. His mouth is relentless, his finger a steady pressure inside me. My hips buck against his face, seeking more, and he holds me down, his grip firm on my thighs.
"I can't," I pant, but my body is already betraying me, climbing again.
"You can." His voice is a dark promise. "You will."
His mouth leaves me with a final, soft kiss against my inner thigh. I’m still trembling, my skin humming with the aftershocks. He moves back up my body, his weight settling over me again, his cock hard and slick against my stomach.
I push at his shoulders. “My turn.”
A slow, dark smile spreads across his face as he rolls onto his back. The firelight catches the sheen of sweat on his chest. I swing a leg over him, straddling his hips, and he lets out a sharp, gratifying hiss as my wetness smears against him.
I take him in my hand, guiding him to my entrance. I sink down onto him slowly, my eyes never leaving his. The stretch is exquisite, a deep, full feeling that makes my breath catch. He fills me so completely.
His hands come to rest on my hips, his thumbs stroking my skin. “You feel… God, Mary.”
I begin to move, a slow, rolling rhythm of my hips. Up and down, taking him deep inside me. My hands brace on his chest, my fingers splaying over his pounding heart. His eyes are lockedon mine, dark and full of a raw emotion that steals the air from my lungs.
I lean forward, changing the angle, and he groans, his head falling back against the pillow. His hands tighten on my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh as I ride him faster. The sound of our bodies meeting fills the small cabin, a wet, rhythmic slap.
“Faster,” he grits out, his voice strained.
I obey, lifting myself almost all the way off him before plunging back down. His cock hits that perfect spot deep inside me with every thrust, and a new coil of pleasure begins to tighten in my core. I can feel his control fraying, his hips bucking up to meet my downward strokes.
“I’m close again,” I pant, my rhythm becoming more frantic, less controlled.
“Me too.” His voice is a rough scrape. “Come with me.”
One of his hands slides between us, his fingers finding my clit. The touch is electric, the final spark. My orgasm crashes over me, a wave of pure, blinding ecstasy that rips a broken cry from my throat. My inner muscles clamp around his cock, milking him, and I feel him pulse inside me as his own release follows, his shout echoing mine.
