She picks up the pace.
The wet sounds of her sliding down on me fill the room, mixing with the rain on the tin and the crackle of the fire. Her tits bounce on every down-stroke and I can’t decide where to look—her face, her mouth open and panting, her tits, the place where my cock is disappearing into her over and over.
It's all too much.
I cup one breast, rolling her nipple between my fingers, and she throws her head back andmoans.
"Beck—I’m so close."
“Me too, baby, me too.”
Her movements get sloppier, more frantic, less controlled. She's chasing it now. She's bouncing on me hard and fast, and I plant my good foot flat on the floor and start meeting her thrusts from below, driving up into her on every down-stroke.
The sounds she's making are obscene.
"Come on me, sweetheart." I whisper. "Right here. Right now. Squeeze that tight little pussy around my big dick andcome for me?—"
Shebreaks.
She comes with her head tossed back and her hands gripping my sides, a long, broken cry tearing out of her throat. Her pussy clenches around me in long, hot, rhythmic pulses—squeezing me, milking me—and I can’t take it, my own orgasm rips through me like a bolt of lightning.
"Fuck yes, Laurel!"
I comehard, my seed shooting out of me. My hips spasm up off the blanket, driving deep into her one last time, and I empty into the condom as I convulse.
Her body shudders on top of mine and finally falls forward onto my chest. She slides out quickly, then cuddles up next to me.
We lie there and just breathe.
"Holyshit," she finally mumbles into my chest.
A laugh shakes loose out of me. "Yeah."
After a minute, I deal with the condom—dropping it in the pail by the stove—and then I pull her right back into me before she can get cold. I tug the blanket over her shoulders.
The rain has eased to a steady, sleepy pour. My ankle is throbbing in time with my pulse, but it’s more than fine.
Her breath evens out against my chest, and within about five minutes Laurel is asleep.
I think—clear as a bell, no joke or smart-ass remark for once in my life—that I’m gonna marry this woman.
Outside, I distinctly hear Riot let out a low whinny.
"Yeah, buddy," I whisper. "You know."
CHAPTER 6
LAUREL
Igrab Beck’s flannel off the bedpost and inhale his scent as I’m getting dressed. It smells like fire, straw, and his heady musk.
I “forgot” to return it after we got back to the cabin, but I’m not sorry.
We’d slept in that shack until the morning, when the rain stopped and he could get down the mountain with the truck and I could ride Riot safely.
The morning light through the side-pasture window is a soft blue-gold, and for one whole, perfect minute I let myself stay in the bubble we’d created.
The shack. The fire. The way I rodehimuntil we both came apart.
