Once my need is calmed, I go soft on her. I press kisses down the back of her neck, across her shoulders, down her spine. Knelt behind her, I kiss each rosy cheek, the back of her thighs, then I press one last gentle one to the pretty pink of her pussy. Fixing the long shirt she stole from me, smacking her ass one last time, I lift her back against me, cradling her to my chest.
I am madly in love with her, and it took just days for me to get there.
“Feed me, you insatiable lumberjack,” she pouts up at me with a look of just-fucked-hunger in her pretty eyes.
“Anything you ask of me, sweetheart,” I respond, dropping a sweet, soft kiss at her swollen pink lips.
Setting her atop the table, I stride past her to get the food I had headed to the kitchen for earlier. It was her fault I put her on her knees to choke my cock down first. My greedy little girl came out in just my shirt, her thighs bare and her tits soft and round beneath the thin cotton. Serena in my clothes, with her wild dark hair, her skin marked from me, and full of my seed is impossible for me to resist.
“Lies. I asked you to feed me breakfast, you fed me...sausage,” she teases, patting me playfully with a cute giggle.
“Keep talking aboutsausage, I'll shove some more down your throat, beautiful. With some sweet syrup,” I shoot back, kissing her smiling lips.
Jesus, I love her. I am not sure how I even existed before she showed up at my front door. It makes sense why I was alwayssuch an asshole. I was missing her, the other half of me. I was incomplete before though I had no idea my half of me was out there existing, breathing, being beautiful.
Plating us some eggs, fried homestyle potatoes, plus plenty of sausage, I turn back to the table. There she still sits, right where I set her, her legs kicking, her face beaming with a smile. How could a man not love her?
“Here you go, sweetheart.”
Setting both plates down, I pull her off the table and down to my lap. I am never too happy without her in my arms or tucked close. I have to get over it at some point. I will be needed at the landing after the holidays. Might be needed before then as we often clear the mountain roads.
“What will...I mean, what will we do after Christmas, sweetheart?”
Blinking down at me as she chews on her food, she thinks for a moment before she answers. “Celebrate the new year? What do you mean?”
“I mean...you will...rather,will youstay here with me, Serena? I am not sure how I will handle you leaving the cabin. Going to town without me. How will I stand us being apart?”
Serena smiles, her lips sticky with syrup from the waffles, her eyes sparkling the way they do whenever I get all soft for her. It happens often. I might be rough, raw, even rude or commanding when we’re fucking. When I’ve got her beneath me, or riding me, I cannot control the beast she brings out of me. Otherwise, I am a sweet little pup at her feet, craving her love.
“Who said we will be apart? I mean...we’re...we’retogether,yes? You said it was not just one night, not just the holiday.”
Sitting up as I understand what she means, I nod. “Hell yes, we’re together. We’ve been together since the minute you came back here. You’re all mine, Serena. For good, for keeps. Foras long as you will let me have you. That talk about giving you my name and my babies, was not my dick talking, sweetheart. Not lust or primal need. Well, hell, it was a little of all of that, but I meant it all, baby. I want you. I need you. I never felt this or...anything evencloseto this, before in my life.”
“Good. Because neither have I. I was scared to come back here alone, Slater. I think I knew why I needed to come back. Not for the ornament. For what I felt in those few minutes I stood on your porch singing to you. There was something in your eyes that I wanted to...well, I wanted to heal it. I wanted you to let me in. And I wanted to let you in.”
“Not just between these sweet thighs,” I tease her, adjusting her so she straddles my lap. Part of me wants to let my cock out, push my tattered old shirt off her body, and thrust home. Another part wants to cradle her close tolet herheal me. “If someone can heal me, it will be you, Serena. I never considered myself capable of what I feel for you now. We just got started. What I will feel for you it just...it won’t end, sweetheart. It willneverend.”
“Good. I accept that,” she hums, bouncing her head with a big smile. “Never ever is all good with me, chief. Were you saying...I mean I am glad we’re stuck here after the storm but...you were saying you just...I mean, you can’t mean that you think I should.... well, what I mean is...”
“Serena, you’re the sweetest thing I ever laid eyes on. Never doubt me or this. Yes, I mean I want you here. If you want to be here. If not, I come to you. I won’t be too good with us being separated, sweetheart. I need you,” I grip her hips tight, shoving her just where my thick, hard need is, though I need her for much more. “Need you here to feelwhole. To be atpeace. To be happy for the first time in my life inso damn long.Forgot how it felt before you came to me, baby. Ineedyou.”
“I accept that,” she whispers as she falls against my chest,brushing her sweet mouth against mine. “That will do, chief. That will do just fine.”
We’re in agreement. After we finish the late breakfast, we put together a string of popcorn and cranberries for the tree in our bedroom. It’s the last tree we’ve yet to deck out with some sort of adornment. I suspect the trees will grow more lavish as we spend more holidays together, but as I said—anything she asks of me.
With snow falling outside, keeping us locked in the cabin, I am all too happy to do anything she asks. When she begs me to eat her good girl pussy while she sucks her daddy’s big cock, I do it. Later when she rides me with the snow frosting the windows behind her, pleading with me to fill her with my cum, to get my little girl pregnant, I do what I can. Just how I plan to spend the rest of my fucking life with this woman, if she lets me.
Doing anything she asks—so long as it is not letting her go.
Chapter Eight
Serena
Christmas is officially my favorite time of the year.
This one feels more special than any before it. Even when we had no lights on a sad Snoopy tree, it was a joyful time. We made presents, we cooked something special, we made the most of what little we had. This Christmas I have half a dozen trees strung up with whatever I can dream up, in a rainbow of colors, with dozens of presents tucked beneath the huge tree by the fireplace.
Each of the rooms in the cabin glows with a different tree. Slater has spent days putting together strings of lights in whatever colors I ask. We make ornaments out of log pieces, pinecones, popcorn, and dried fruit. It has been the sweetest, homiest Christmas of my entire life.
