So I tighten my hold on him, arms locking around his neck, and I whisper against his glistening lips, “Samick.”
A snarl crawls up his throat.
I echo it, repeat his name in a whisper, in a moan, again and again, whining more and more the harder he fucks me, the higher I climb with him.
And as it strikes me, as brutal and cold as an ocean storm, my head smacks back into the tree—
A hollow shout ribbons out of me.
Samick’s feral groan drowns out my cry.
He slams me harder against the tree—and thrusts into me once, twice, and he comes undone.
The warmth spills inside of me.
His cock throbs, pulses against my walls.
And he curves over me, dropping his head to mine, that groan spiralling on and on, until it tempers into something softer.
But he doesn’t pull away from me.
Not yet.
Not even after he’s come down, and I’ve relaxed against him.
For a moment longer, he just holds me to him.
He angles his face to mine, his full, swollen mouth grazing my cheek.
Then he nips.
And I wince.
But it was just a nip.
No blood, no bite.
Fragile…
Samick tugs his cock out of me, and wetness escapes with him.
My face twists. It’s an uncomfortable sensation.
Then he releases my legs, letting them slip down his side, until my boots dangle above the ground.
He steps back, his arm leaving me, and I drop.
My boots thud down on the foliage.
And I get that post-fuck clarity.
I’m exposed.
Heat floods my face, burns down past my clavicle, and under the sweater, where I know my chest is an ugly shade of red.
I scramble for my waistband and start to shimmy up my trousers.
Samick doesn’t watch.
