My hand slides into her hair, grips, pulls her neck sideways.
She gasps.
“Yeah,” I say. “And you’d let me?” I add, because I need to hear it. I need the choice to be hers, not something I take because I can.
She nods, and it is a small movement, because I’m holding her by the hair. But it hits me like a gunshot.
And then the heat stops being talk.
Then it is bodies.
I spread her thighs, and she widens, impatient, breath coming fast. I kiss her hard enough to steal any protest, and she gives it to me anyway in a moan that goes straight under my skin. My hands slide down her thighs. I settle between her thighs.
She reaches for me, nails digging into my shoulders, pulling me closer like she is done being careful.
“Tell me,” I mutter, mouth at her throat again, teeth grazing.
“I want you,” she says, voice shaking. “I want all of it.”
That is enough.
I move with intention, not gentleness. I make her feel every inch of my dick, every shift of my hips, every hard stroke of friction that builds the kind of fuck that leaves no room for doubt about what we’re doing.
The bed creaks under us. The cabin feels too small for the sound of her moans, for the way her body reacts, for the way she grips me like she is trying to keep me from disappearing.
She makes a sound and bites her lip like she is embarrassed by how horny she is.
I hook my fingers under her chin and force her to look at me.
“Don’t hide from me,” I tell her.
Her eyes are glassy. Her cheeks are flushed. Her mouth is swollen from kissing. Her pussy lips are too.
“I’m not hiding,” she whispers, and then she wraps her legs tighter around my hips like she is claiming something back.
That does it.
My control slips another inch.
“You’re mine tonight,” I growl against her mouth, and the words are filthy and possessive, honest in a way I don’t deserve.
Her body shudders.
“Say it,” I demand, not because I need dominance, but because I need the choice spoken out loud.
“I’m yours,” she gasps.
“Fuck,” I swear under my breath and thrust harder.
She cracks, a sound ripping out of her that makes my whole body tense like it is going to snap. Her nails rake my back. Her hips lift to meet me. She ain’t pretending this is sweet.
Good.
I don’t want polite. I want real.
I want her messy. Open and chosen.
When she comes, she does it hard, shaking, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut like she can’t hold it in. She says my name like it hurts her.
