But none of those logical points matter with her thighs gripping tightly around my head and the taste of her soaking cunt against my lips. I hold her hips tighter, keeping her still as I fuck into her with my tongue. Her cries turn desperate. She’s close, teetering on the edge, it’s easy to tell by the way her cunt pulses around me, but I can sense her holding back.
“No,” I growl against her. “Let go. I want it. Every damn drop.”
Her body shatters. Trembling hard against my mouth as she comes, thighs clamping down, hips rocking up. The sound that tears from her throat could rival a wild beast’s roar. It’ll haunt me forever, burned into the depths of my psyche, into my goddamn soul.
When she finally sags back, wrecked in a way that makes my ego swell, I stand, wiping my mouth and beard with the back of my hand, as I stare down at her.
Christ. She looks like an apparition. Like every indecent thought I’ve ever had come to life, displayed to me in firelight and covered in a thin coat of sweat.
Now would be the perfect time to break this connection. To stop this madness and separate from my temptation. I’ve given her enough to quell the ache in her body. But my cock throbs painfully behind my zipper, and the animal in me—the part I kept caged for years behind expensively tailored outfits and discipline—is done being polite.
I scoop her off the couch, her clothes falling back, and Iregret not ripping them from her body earlier. With one arm behind her back and the other beneath her knees, I walk us over to the thick blanket she dropped on the rug in front of the fire.
She clings to me in a blissed out state, lips still parted in post orgasmic ecstasy. She doesn’t ask what I’m doing, just zones in on my lips like they’re her new best friend.
Lying her down gently, I hover over her, breath coming hard through my nose. Her sleep shirt hitches halfway up her body, and her shorts are soaked through from her juices. They’re hiding everything I shouldn’t be so desperate to see.
“Tell me to stop,” I rasp, even though I don’t mean it. “Tell me and I will.”
Her hands slide under my shirt, fingers dragging across my chest, slow and teasing. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
That’s all I need, the nail in the coffin to my morality.
I grab her shorts and yank them down her legs, tossing them aside. She pulls her shirt off herself, throwing it to the other side of the room. And there she is, finally naked under me. Her pale skin glistens in the firelight. Her eyes lock on mine with nothing more than burning passion.
I unbuckle my belt with shaking fingers, nervous as the first time I got my cock wet. I shove my jeans down just enough to press the head of my cock against her soaked entrance.
So warm. So wet. So goddamn tight and all fucking mine.
I push in slowly, jaw clenched. Feeling her wet skin against my throbbing cock has me fighting the urge to slam into her. Her hands ghost everywhere across my skin, fighting with the fabric of my shirt until she’s finally had enough and rips it over my head. Her legs are wrapped around my hips, pulling me deeper.
“Jesus, Ava,” I groan, burying myself to the hilt. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”
But she does. She knows the power she holds over me now. It’s in the way her sly grin takes over her scarlet face.
And as I start to move with deep and punishing strokes, she moans like she’s been waiting for this longer than either of us has had the courage to admit. Longer than the day and a half we’ve been locked away in this snowy fortress. But I know that can’t be true.
I take her hard, rocking her into the blanket with every thrust. The fire burns hot against my side, sweat glistens on her collarbones, and runs down my chest. Her nails break skin, raking down my spine. My control snaps somewhere between her faint whimpers and the way she whispers my name like a parishioner praying to their God.
There’ll be guilt later. Regret, maybe. But not in this moment.
Right now, it’s only the feel of her hot pussy wrapped in a vise-like hold around my cock. The sound of our sweat-slicked skin slaps rhythmically against the hushed night. One undeniable truth plays on repeat in my mind. She is mine, even if I pay for it when he finds out.
She fits around me like a hand-mended sheath. Like no one else ever has. So tight, pulling me in, dragging me deeper. Every thrust sends her body arching up to meet me, every gasp and whimper like gasoline poured on a raging fire ready to consume me.
I couldn’t stop touching her, even if the world around us came to a cataclysmic end.
My hands roam her curves as if I’m mapping a newly discovered land. Her flared hips give my fingers something soft to dig into. The valley between her swollen breasts calls tome, drawing me down to swipe my tongue across her salty skin. She moans when I pull her pink nipple into my mouth and give it a quick nip.
“Harder,” she breathes, voice wrecked.
I nearly lose it.
I give it to her, bracing one hand beside her head and let go, pounding into her with everything I’ve held back all day.
She doesn’t falter, meeting me thrust for thrust below, nails scoring my arms, head thrown back in surrender.
She’s so goddamn beautiful like this, I don’t think I’ll ever recover.
