The words are crude, filthy, but they ignite something wild in me.
"Yes," I gasp, hips grinding against his hand. "Please fuck me."
That's all he needs.
He rears up, shedding his pants and boxers in a blur of motion, his cock springing free—thick, hard, veins pulsing with the same urgency I feel.
He doesn't tease, doesn't prolong; he positions himself at my entrance, one hand gripping my thigh to hook it over his hip, the other bracing beside my head.
"You're mine," he growls, eyes locking on mine as he thrusts in—deep, unyielding, filling me in one brutal stroke that steals my breath.
I cry out, the stretch burning sweet, and he stills for a heartbeat, letting me adjust, his forehead pressed to mine. But then he moves, pulling back only to slam home again, setting a rhythm that's all power and possession.
His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise, angling me to take him deeper, harder, each thrust punctuated by the slap of skin on skin.
"That's it," he rasps, voice breaking with the effort of restraint he's no longer bothering with. "Take it. Feel how fucking deep I am. This is what you wanted—me breaking you open."
"Yes!" I meet every thrust, nails raking down his back, lost in the filthy symphony of it—his grunts, my moans, the creak of the sleeping bag beneath us.
He shifts, hooking my other leg over his arm, folding me nearly in half so he can hit even deeper, his thumb finding my clit again to rub in tight circles.
The pressure builds, white-hot and relentless, until I'm teetering on the edge.
"Come for me," he demands, teeth grazing my earlobe, breath hot and ragged. "Milk my cock, Savannah. Show me you're mine."
I shatter—waves of pleasure crashing through me, clenching around him as I scream his name. He follows seconds later, burying himself to the hilt with a guttural groan, spilling hot inside me, his body trembling as he claims me completely.
We collapse together, sweat-slick and spent, his weight a comforting anchor as our breaths slow. He doesn't pull away—instead, he rolls us so I'm draped over his chest, his arms wrapping around me like he'll never let go.
His arms tighten their grip, one hand splaying possessively across my back, the other tangling in my hair as he presses a lingering kiss to my temple. The heat of him seeps into my skin,chasing away the chill of the shelter, and I melt against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat under my ear. It's a rhythm that grounds me, pulling me from the whirlwind of the night into this quiet, intimate space where nothing exists but us.
"You're incredible," he murmurs, voice husky and sated, his fingers tracing lazy circles along my spine.
The touch is gentle now, a stark contrast to the raw hunger from moments ago, and it stirs something deeper in me—a warmth that blooms slow and sweet in my chest.
I tilt my head up, brushing my lips against the stubble on his jaw.
"So are you." My words are soft, but there's a spark in them, an invitation I can't quite suppress.
Even spent, my body hums with awareness of him, of the hard lines of muscle beneath me, the faint scent of sweat and earth clinging to his skin.
His eyes meet mine, that molten gray darkening again as he reads the want lingering in my gaze. A slow smile curves his mouth—predatory, knowing.
"Round two?" he asks, but it's not really a question.
His hand slides down to cup my ass, squeezing firmly, pulling me flush against the growing hardness between us.
I nod, breath catching as I shift my hips, feeling him twitch against me.
This time, it's unhurried, sensual in a way that builds like a gathering storm.
He rolls us again, but gentler, settling between my thighs without the urgency of before. His mouth finds mine in a deep, languid kiss—tongues sliding slowly, exploratory, tasting the remnants of our first frenzy.
I arch into him, hands roaming over the ridges of his scars, memorizing him as thoroughly as he's been memorizing me.
Sawyer breaks the kiss to trail his lips down my neck, nipping softly at my pulse point before moving lower. He lavishes attention on my breasts, sucking and swirling with deliberate patience, drawing out gasps and shivers until I'm writhing beneath him.
"That's it," he whispers against my skin, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me. "Let me take my time with you."
