He positions himself at my entrance and pauses. Forehead pressed to mine. Eyes locked on mine. Our breath mingling in the cold air between us.
“I love you,” he says.
It’s not the first time he’s said it. But it’s the first time he’s said it here, in this place that holds the ghosts of where it all started with us, with the waterfall roaring and his body trembling against mine. The words sounds different here. It sounds like something ancient and unbreakable.
“I love you, too,” I say back. “Now stop talking.”
He pushes inside me in one slow, hard stroke.
My head falls against the rock, and my mouth opens on a moan I couldn’t contain if I tried. He fills me completely, stretching me, and the feeling of him inside me still undoes me every time. Like my body was designed to hold him.
He doesn’t move. He stays buried deep, his face in my neck, his breath hot against my skin, and his heart hammering against my chest.
“You feel…” He exhales, shaky. “Every time. Every fucking time, it’s like the first time.”
I tighten around him deliberately, and he hisses through his teeth.
“Do that again and this is going to be embarrassingly short.”
“Then you’d better make it count.”
He pulls back slowly, the drag of him making my toes curl,and then snaps his hips forward. Hard. The force of it pushes me up the wall, and I cry out, my fingers digging into his shoulders. He does it again. And again. Setting a rhythm that’s deep and relentless, each thrust driving into me with the kind of precision that reminds me this man knows how to use his body like a weapon.
The sounds are obscene. Skin against skin, wet and loud, echoing off the stone. My moans bouncing off the alcove walls. His low groans vibrating against my throat where his mouth is pressed, teeth scraping.
“Harder,” I manage. “Please.”
He grips my thighs tighter and drives into me so deep I see stars. My back scrapes against the rock and I don’t care, can’t care, because every nerve in my body is lit up and the only thing that exists is him inside me and the roar of the water and his voice in my ear telling me I’m perfect, I’m his, I’m everything.
“You take me so well,” he says against my throat, and the praise makes me clench around him. He groans. “That’s it. Do that again.”
I do, tightening around him with every thrust, and his rhythm falters for a second before he picks it back up, harder. His hand slides between us and finds my clit, and the first press of his thumb makes my vision white out at the edges.
“I can feel how close you are,” he says. “You’re squeezing me so tight.”
“Don’t stop.” I’m begging and I don’t care. “Please don’t stop.”
“Never.” He circles my clit in time with his thrusts, fast and precise, and the pressure builds so quickly it’s almost violent,coiling tighter and tighter at the base of my spine. “Give it to me. I want to feel you come.”
His free hand comes up and wraps around my throat. The orgasm hits me like a wave. Not a slow build this time but a detonation. I shatter around him, clenching hard, my whole body locking up as it tears through me. I scream his name, and the waterfall catches it and holds it, and he keeps moving, keeps driving into me through every pulse and clench, extending it until I’m shaking so hard I can barely hold on.
“That’s my girl,” he breathes. “There you go.”
He’s close. His thrusts go erratic, tension coils through his arms, and his breath fractures against my neck.
“Come for me,” I whisper against his ear. “Let go, Lance. I’ve got you.”
He buries himself deep and stills, and the sound he makes when he comes is broken and raw and the most honest thing I’ve ever heard. My name, torn out of him like it’s the only word left in his vocabulary. He shudders against me, his face pressed into my neck, his arms shaking where they hold me up.
And I holdhimthrough it. My hands in his hair, my legs wrapped tight, my mouth pressing kisses to his temple, his cheekbone, the shell of his ear.
He doesn’t pull away immediately. He stays. Forehead against my shoulder, still inside me, our breathing melding together. The waterfall still roars. The mist settles on our skin. And for a long, suspended moment, the world is just this. Two people behind a wall of water, holding each other up.
A knight and his queen.
“Genevieve.”
“Hmm.”
