"Say it." My fingers circle her clit without giving her the pressure she needs.
"I want to come." Her voice breaks. "Please let me come."
"Good girl."
I stop teasing. My hips piston into her, hard and fast, while my fingers work her clit with ruthless precision. She's shaking,her palms slipping against the wall, her moans turning into something desperate and broken.
"That's it," I growl against her ear. "Take it. Take all of it."
She shatters with a scream, her whole body convulsing, her pussy clenching around me so tight I see stars. I fuck her through it, not letting up, drawing out every last tremor until she's sobbing my name.
Only then do I let myself go. I bury myself deep and come with a groan that rips from somewhere in my chest, filling her up while she trembles in my arms.
We stay like that for a long moment. Both panting. Both wrecked.
I press my forehead against the back of her neck and breathe her in. Sweat and sex and something underneath that's just her. Mine. She's mine.
Eventually, I pull out and turn her around to face me. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes glazed, her lips swollen from where she was biting them.
She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Hi," she says, and there's a softness in her voice I haven't heard before.
"Hi yourself."
She laughs, quiet and almost shy, which is ridiculous given what we just did. "That was..."
"Intense?"
"I was going to say amazing, but that works too."
I brush a strand of damp hair from her face. "You'reamazing."
"You're biased."
"Probably." I pull her against my chest and she goes willingly, her arms wrapping around my waist. "Doesn't make it less true."
We stand there in front of the fire, holding each other, the cabin warm around us while the snow falls silently outside. I don't want to move. Don't want to break this moment where she's soft and pliant in my arms, where she's not fighting me or pushing me away.
Eventually, she shivers—not from cold but from exhaustion.
"Bed," I tell her.
She doesn't argue. Just lets me lead her across the cabin and pull back the covers. We climb in together, tangled up before we even hit the mattress. Her head finds my chest. Her leg hooks over mine. Her fingers trace lazy patterns on my stomach.
It’s just us without the distance and the pillows and the walls.
"What time is it?" she murmurs, already half asleep.
I glance at the clock on the wall. "Almost six."
"We should eat something."
"Later."
"Mmm." Her eyes are closed, her breath slowing. "Later sounds good."
I hold her while she drifts off, watching the firelight flicker across the ceiling and listening to the wind howl outside.
