He lays me down on the blanket and pulls my boots off one at a time. Then my jeans, pulling them down along with my underwear. I’m bare, and the vulnerability should sting. Instead, safety wraps around me like a blanket.
He shifts his weight above me, muscles bunching under his shirt as he strips it off and tosses it onto the hay bale beside us. Sunlight filters through the loft's slatted walls, warming hisskin and casting shadows that highlight the ridges of his abs, the broad span of his shoulders filling the space between us.
His hands return to my hips, thumbs digging into the soft give there with firm pressure that sends heat blooming in my pussy, and he pulls me closer until my bare thighs bracket his denim-clad ones.
"You're everything I've ever wanted," he says, his voice heavy with need. "These curves. This body. Mine to worship."
He lowers his head and captures my nipple between his lips, sucking hard while his hand kneads the other breast, fingers spreading wide to encompass the full weight and squeeze with just enough force to make my back arch. Hay shifts beneath me, prickling my skin through the blanket. The sensation fades under the wet drag of his tongue circling my nipple in tight spirals that match the rhythm of his palm rolling the opposite tip. Pleasure builds fast in my pussy where I'm already getting wet and aching for him.
His hand slides between my legs, exploring my pussy with two thick fingers that stroke upward in slow, teasing glides before circling my clit. The barn air carries the faint, musky scent of horses and the tang of leather from tack hung on the walls, mixing with our sweat as he switches breasts, teeth grazing my skin before his mouth latches onto a nipple. I thread my fingers through his hair and pull him tighter, hips rocking into his touch because I need more, need him to shatter me again.
"Fuck, you're responsive," he growls against my skin. "Love how you light up for me. Every soft inch begging for my hands."
He adds suction to his mouth, drawing my nipple in deep while his fingers press inside me, curling to hit that swollen spot with unerring strokes that sync to the flicks of his thumb on my clit.
My thighs tremble around him, muscles clenching as tension coils tighter in my pussy and the loft's warmth presses in,making my skin flush hotter with each pass. Dust motes swirl in the light as my hips buck, but he holds me steady with his forearm across my hips, pinning me down while he works me higher.
"That's my girl," he murmurs, lifting his head just enough to watch my face. "Come again. Show me how good I make you feel."
The orgasm hits like a storm breaking, ripping through me in shuddering waves that lock my legs and draw a sharp cry from my throat. He keeps stroking inside, gentling the pressure on my clit to pull every last tremor free until I'm gasping, boneless, fingers loosening in his hair as aftershocks ripple outward.
He rises up on his knees, shucking his jeans and boxers, freeing his erection. He grips my waist and flips me onto my stomach, hay crunching under the blanket as he positions me on all fours, knees sinking into the fabric while his hands slide over my ass, kneading the curves with possessive squeezes. "Look at you," he says, voice thick. "Ass up for me. Hips wide and perfect. Gonna fill you deep like this."
He notches himself at my entrance, rubbing the head through my wetness in teasing slides that make me push back, needing him inside. One hand braces on my hip while the other reaches around to cup my breast, pinching the nipple as he thrusts forward in a single, claiming stroke that buries him to the hilt. The stretch burns sweet, fullness overwhelming, and I drop to my elbows, forehead pressing into the blanket where the scent of hay clings strong.
"Fuck, you take me so well," he groans, starting a rhythm. He moves slowly at first, then builds to deep, pounding drives that slap skin against skin. His arm curls around my waist, fingers circling my clit, stroking in time to his thrust as he hits that spot inside with every plunge.
The loft shakes faintly with our movement, sunlight warming my shoulders as sweat slicks between us. His praise keeps coming, low and fervent. "Beautiful. Strong. Mine." Each word punctuates a thrust, pleasure spiking higher from his fingers on my clit until my pussy walls flutter around him, chasing release again. My thighs begin to tremble.
He leans over me, chest pressing to my back, weight grounding as his fingers continue to circle my clit in fast, slick strokes. "Come with me," he commands, hips snapping faster. "Now."
The climax explodes inside me. It’s mutual, with mine clenching around him in pulses that milk his release, his groan vibrating through my skin as heat floods inside me. He thrusts through it, stroking my clit and drawing out the waves until we're both spent, collapsing sideways onto the blanket with him still buried deep.
He pulls out gently, rolling me to face him so his arm bands my waist and his leg hooks over mine, bodies tangled close. His hand strokes my hair, fingers combing through damp strands while his lips brush my forehead, temple, and cheek in soft presses. The barn quiets around us, only our breaths mingling with the distant creak of wood settling in the heat.
"I've loved you for seventeen years," he whispers, his palm cupping my face to hold my gaze. "Every day since you left. I never stopped."
Tears sting my eyes, but joy swells beneath. "I didn’t know it until I saw you again, but I loved you, too. For seventeen years. Through everything."
"You're mine now," he says, thumb tracing my lower lip. "Forever. No more running."
I nod, pressing closer until my head tucks under his chin, his heartbeat steady against my ear. His hand keeps moving downmy arm, over my hip and back up in endless, soothing circuits that anchor me here, in this moment, safe and whole.
"I'm staying," I whisper against his skin.
"You sure?"
"No. I'm terrified. But I'm staying anyway."
He kisses the top of my head. "Good. Because I'm holding on to you forever."
Later, after we've dressed and climbed down from the loft, hay still stuck in my hair, I pull out my phone and dial Diane's number before changing my mind becomes possible.
She answers on the second ring. "Sloane. You all packed?"
"I'm resigning." The words taste like freedom.
Silence. Then: "Good for you."
