I grab her thighs and spread her legs wider. It makes my cock throb violently against the zipper of my pants, a painful, aching pressure that demands release.
I bury my face in her pussy.
The slick wetness, the searing heat. She tastes like salt and desire. I eat her with ruthless dedication. My tongue parts her slick folds, finding the swollen clit hiding at the top. I drag my tongue over the sensitive bud, pressing hard, applying a steady, relentless friction.
Reese gasps my name, her fingers tangling desperately in my hair. "Santi—oh god, Santi!"
I do not stop. I suck the clit into my mouth, pulling on it, flicking my tongue against it. I taste her slick, thick juices coating my lips. My thumbs press into the creases of her thighs, holding her open, ensuring she cannot escape the onslaught. She thrashes against the wall, her hips bucking forward, trying to get closer, trying to ease the unbearable tension building inside her.
I slide two fingers deep into her dripping wetness.
Her walls are incredibly tight. Scalding hot. They clench around my digits instantly, welcoming the intrusion. I curl my fingers, dragging them along her upper wall, finding that deep, ridged spot. I pump my fingers in and out of her soaking pussy while my mouth continues to ravage her clit.
The dual stimulation shatters her control. She starts to climax, her body locking up rigid against the timber wall. Her pussy clenches rhythmically, violently around my fingers. She cries out a long, broken wail of pure pleasure, her head falling back against the logs.
I stay between her thighs, feeling her tremble, letting her ride out the intense aftershocks.
When her legs begin to tremble, threatening to give out, I stand up.
I lift her in my arms, carrying her the two steps to the heavy radio desk. I sweep my arm across the surface, knocking the topographical maps, the scattered brass casings, and the ham radio microphone onto the floor. I set her down on the edge of the sturdy timber desk.
I undo my belt with shaking hands. I drop my pants and boxer briefs, kicking them aside.
My cock springs free, painfully hard and slick with precum. The cold air of the cabin hits my heated skin, but I feel nothing but the furnace of the woman sitting in front of me.
I step between her spread legs. I grip her hips, pulling her right to the very edge of the desk so her wet pussy is lined up perfectly with my rigid cock.
I look at her. Her chest is heaving. Her lips are swollen and kissed red. Her eyes are dark with lust, locked onto mine. She does not look away. She never looks away.
"I am going to fill you," I tell her, my voice low and rough in the quiet room. "I am going to stretch you, and I am going to show you exactly what it means to be mine."
"Do it," she demands, her voice sassy and fierce even now. "Stop talking and do it."
God, I love her defiance. It makes the possession that much sweeter.
I grip the base of my cock and guide the blunt, purple head against her slick opening. She is so wet, dripping her arousal down her thighs, begging for me.
I push forward.
The tight walls stretch around the girth of my cock, the hot, slick muscle resisting for a fraction of a second before yielding to my blunt force. She gasps sharply, her fingers digging into my biceps.
I drive my hips forward in one continuous, powerful thrust, sinking into her to the hilt.
I am buried inside her tight, scalding wetness. It is a physical shock to my system. The intense heat, the friction, the way her inner walls clench and grip my shaft as if trying to keep me there forever. I close my eyes, my head dropping back as a rough, guttural groan rips from me.
"Fuck," I breathe. "Fuck, you feel so good."
"Move," she begs, her hips tilting up to take me deeper. "Santi, please."
I pull back, dragging the length of my cock out until only the head remains inside her slick wetness, and then I slam my hips forward, burying myself to the hilt again.
The rhythm establishes itself instantly. A deep, pounding cadence. I grip her hips, anchoring her to the desk, and I fuck her with relentless, devastating force. Every thrust is a claiming. Every withdrawal is a promise to return. The slap of my flesh against hers echoes in the cabin, a wet sound that drowns out the howling blizzard outside.
She takes every inch of me. Her pussy is a tight, slick glove, milking my cock with every stroke. I study her face, the pleasurewarping her beautiful features. I watch the fierce independence melt into beautiful surrender. She gives herself to me, allowing me to take control, allowing me to break her apart and put her back together.
"Reese," the name leaves me rough with every thrust.
"Yours," she gasps, her head tossing from side to side. "I'm yours."
