I moved down her body. I put my mouth on her clit and felt her hips come up hard against me.
“There,” she breathed. “Right there—don’t you dare move.”
I had no intention of moving. I worked her clit slow, reading every change in her breathing, every tightening of her thighs, every hitch when I found the angle that made her loud. I slid two fingers inside her and felt her clench around them and heard the sharp sound she made when I curled them forward. Her fingers went into my hair and pulled and I felt her thighs go tight against my shoulders and I stayed exactly where I was, working her with my mouth and my hand together, until she came—her back arching off the bed, her whole body pulling tight and then releasing, my name on her mouth, loud and completely unself-conscious.
I came up over her while she was still catching her breath. She looked wrecked and satisfied and her eyes opened and found mine and she reached up and gripped the back of my neck.
“I want you,” she said. “Now. Please.”
“I know.”
I got my jeans off. She watched me the whole time, her gaze moving down, and then she sat up and wrapped her hand around my cock and I held very still.
“God,” she said, almost to herself, and I felt her thumb swipe across the head, through the bead of pre-cum already there, and she looked up at me from under her lashes with an expression that was not innocent in any respect.
“London.”
“Hold on.”
She lowered her head and swirled her tongue around the tip of my cock, lapping up the pre-cum, and the sound I made was not something I’d planned on making. She took me deeper, her mouth wet and warm and moving in a rhythm that had me bracing one hand on the headboard and breathing through it, and when she looked up at me while she did it I was dangerously close to losing the thread of everything I’d intended this morning to be.
I pulled her up. She came with a small noise of protest.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” I said. “And I’m going to take my time doing it. So get on your back.”
She went. Eyes on mine the whole way down, the corner of her mouth moving.
I settled over her and reached between us and lined up and drove in slow—all the way, one long stroke—and her breath left her body entirely.
I held there. Her body was stretched tight around my cock, her hands gripping my shoulders, her eyes open and on mine. I wanted her to feel every inch of it. I wanted her to know this was different from the wall, from the urgency of that first night. This was me making a claim.
“You feel incredible,” I said. “Every time. It’s like you were made for me.”
Her hips rolled up. “Rafe. Move.”
“I know, baby.” I pulled back and drove in again, the same deliberate pace. “I’ve got you.”
She made the low sound in her throat that meant it was landing exactly right. I set a rhythm that wasn’t about speed and kept it—long, slow strokes that had her gripping my shoulders harder with each one, her hips rising to meet mine, her tits moving with every thrust. I could feel how close she already was, the flutter and clench of her around my cock, and I held the pace anyway, held her right at the edge of it.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” she said. Breathless. Certain.
“Yes.”
She laughed—short and real—and then it dissolved into a gasp when I shifted the angle. “There,” she said. “Right there, don’t—”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
I stayed with that angle and watched her face and felt her building under me. She was all the way there—loud and unself-conscious and completely present—and I wanted it, every sound she made, the way she said my name when something landed right, her nails leaving marks in my shoulders, the wet slap of her slick pussy taking my cock with each stroke.
“Rafe.” Her voice was wrecked. “I need to—I’m going to—”
“Go ahead. I want to feel you come on my cock.”
I kept the angle and the pace and felt her building under me and stayed with her all the way through it—her whole body going tight and then releasing in waves, her mouth open on my name, her thighs locked hard around me. I followed her over before it had finished moving through her, buried deep, her nails in my back, both of us still.
Afterward the cabin was quiet. She was on her back and I was beside her and neither of us moved for a while. Her hand found mine on the blanket without ceremony—no announcement, no discussion, just a decision made and acted on.
The morning had gone from pale to gold through the window.
