My eyes flutter closed at the friction between us, her heated arousal and hot, tight pussy milking my cock, the pleasure it brings. I love the feel of her, the nearness of the two of us, I love everything about this as we move in perfect time, both of us urging the other on. I know she comes when I do, the way her head falls back and her mouth parts as her pussy hugs my cock, and I fucking lose my mind.
I come so hard I’m fucking blinded, shattered. My head falls beside her, my forehead on the sofa as she wraps her legs around my back and spurs me on. I’m panting, relishing the feel of her hands on my shoulders and legs wrapped around my torso. I didn’t know this woman a week ago, yet I feel as if we were created for this moment of unadulterated intimacy.
I lean over and kiss her cheek, hot and flushed with arousal. “That was fucking perfect, doll. Fuckin’perfect.”
I pull out of her with reluctance, expecting more than the streak of red. She doesn’t flinch or look afraid but somehow grateful and sated. I walk to the toilet and grab some towels, come back to her, and sit beside her while I clean her up.
“Bed’s up in the loft,” I tell her. “Let’s get some rest, hmm?” But before she can respond, I pull her over to me and kiss the top of her head, holding her so tightly she’s gasping for breath before I release her.
“That was fucking beautiful.”
She bows her head shyly, nods, then takes the clothes I give her. “Everything you need’s in the bathroom.”
She smiles to herself, and I’m curious what she’s thinking.
“What is it?” I ask. I lift her mobile from the armchair and toss it back to her.
The text comes in quickly.
Not everything I need’s in there.She bites her lip and I cock my head to the side.
She gives me a shy look. Does she need me? I wish I knew what she needed from me, for I’d give her anything right now on a fucking silver platter.
I reach for her, bringing her close to me so I can embrace her.
“You’re an angel.” I kiss her cheek and send her to get ready for bed.
When she’s ready she goes to climb the ladder, then thinks better of it and runs back to the coffee table. She grabs the damn romance book, then trots back to the ladder and climbs up to the loft. I shake my head and join her. Fucking Scottish mafiaromance,myGod.
When I get to the loft, I love how Cairstina looks around me and claps her hands in delight at the bedroom. I look around, as ifseeing the place with new eyes. I have to admit, I fairly like it myself.
It’s like the rest of my home here: rustic, but well-appointed. A four-poster bed with sturdy posts, a thick, soft ivory carpet beneath our feet, a wooden table I made myself beside the bed, with a lamp and books.
“I need to get ready for bed myself,” I tell her. “Do you need anything?”
She shakes her head, yawns widely, and climbs into the large bed. I lift the blanket up over her shoulder as she reaches to get her book from the bedside table and smiles at me.
When she sees me looking at her, she looks away, turning to the book as if to shield herself from me. Does she regret what we just did?
I never had sex like that before. There’s a simple innocence about her that makes everything feel more wholesome. I hardly know the woman, but that felt more like making love that having sex. I know, then, with a certainty I feel in my core… I won’t let this one go. Not now. Not fucking ever.
Tomorrow when we go into town, I will find her brother.
And I will make him hurt.
He’s fucking earned it.
When I come to bed a few minutes later, she’s softly snoring, the book wide open beside her. I gently lift it, trying not to wake her, and place it on the bedside table.
I glance at the cover and shake my head. He’s a sturdy, good-looking lad, but who walks in the snowy woods with no fucking shirt on?
“fuckin’eejit,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. If she wants to read a book about a wanker, she can have at it.
I lie beside her, feeling sudden weariness in my bones. She nestles up to my chest, and I place my arm over her. I tug her closer to me, enjoying how sweetly she fits right here in my arms.
I could get used to this. Damn, could I. A soft place to land after a hard day’s work. For the first time in my life, I see the appeal of a committed relationship.
I’ve met women who were intimidated by me and some that were enamored. I’ve met women that wanted to use me, and some who could never get over who I was and what I did, so I’ve never pursued a real romantic relationship. And I wonder if I’m kidding myself if I say that this is any different.
