He pulls back slightly, adjusting my legs over his shoulders, and then he's thrusting again, harder this time.
I cry out, my hands scrambling for grip on the table's edge. I can feel him hitting that spot inside me with every thrust.
"Look at me," he commands, his voice rough.
I do, forcing my eyes open, and the intensity in his gaze steals my breath. He's watching me, his eyes dark and hungry.
His pace quickens, his hips snapping forward with increasing urgency, and I can feel the tension building again, coiling impossibly tight in my belly.
"Ezra, I can't—"
"Yes, you can," he says, his voice firm. "Come for me, Wendy."
And I do.
The orgasm crashes over me like a wave, sharp and blinding, and I cry out, my body convulsing around him.
Pleasure floods every nerve, and for a moment I can't think, can't breathe, can only feel.
He follows moments later, his grip on my hips tightening, his breath ragged against my neck as he spills inside me.
We stay like that for a long moment, wrapped around each other, breathing hard. His forehead rests against mine, and I can feel his heart pounding, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
Then he shifts, easing me off the table and back onto my feet. My legs are shaky, and he steadies me with one arm around my waist.
"Bed," he says quietly.
I nod, and he guides me back, laying me down gently before climbing in beside me. He pulls the blanket over us, and I curl into his side, my head resting on his chest.
I listen to the steady thud of his heartbeat, feel the warmth of his skin against mine, and for the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel completely, utterly content.
"That was—" I start.
"Yeah," he says quietly, his hand stroking my hair.
I smile against his skin and close my eyes, letting the warmth and exhaustion pull me under.
Chapter 6 – Ezra
The first thing I notice when I wake is the silence.
The wind has stopped howling, the windows no longer rattle. The only sounds are the soft crackle of dying embers in the hearth and Wendy's steady breathing beside me.
I open my eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the pale gray light filtering through the window. Dawn, or close to it.
The room is colder, but beneath the blankets it's warm. Wendy is pressed against my side, her head on my chest, one arm draped across my stomach. Her hair tickles my jaw, and I can feel the soft rise and fall of her breathing.
I don't move. Don't want to wake her. Don't want this moment to end.
But eventually, responsibility wins.
I ease myself out from under her carefully, pulling the blanket up around her shoulders as I slide out of bed. She stirs slightly, murmuring something I don't catch, then settles back into sleep.
I pull on my pants and a shirt, moving quietly across the room. The floorboards creak under my weight, and I pause, glancing back at the bed.
Wendy doesn't wake.
I step into the main room and immediately check the fire. The embers are still glowing, barely, and I add kindling and a small log, coaxing the flames back to life. The wood catches quickly, crackling and popping as the fire spreads.
