into her, possessing her. We send each other higher, our joining so much more than sex. It’s primal and all-consuming, and when we both come, it’s raw and primitive, a coming together that’s profoundly simple in its perfect rightness.
Afterward, her thighs are shaking as I untie her. I hold her in my arms and hand her a cold bottle of water, insisting that she drink it all. She’s exhausted—utterly depleted—and as soon as I pull the covers around us, she snuggles into my chest and promptly falls asleep. God, I love the way she nestles into me. I stave off sleep until the first fingers of dawn light sky, content to simply hold her in my arms as I memorize every feature, the beat of her heart and the cadence of her breath, not wanting to miss a minute. But sleep, like all endings, is inevitable, and I finally close my eyes.
Chapter Eight
Ariana
I wake up before Marcus does, and I take advantage of the opportunity to really look at him without those bone-melting eyes of his watching me back, making me forget all rational thought. God, I’ve missed him. He’s beautiful, and I can’t help but touch him, smoothing one dark, thick eyebrow with the tip of my finger, savoring the feel of the scruff of his beard as it scrapes against my palm, and finally, bending over to trace his gorgeous full lips with my tongue.
He wakes up seamlessly, not even opening his eyes before he starts kissing me, his tongue stroking mine as his fingers thread in my hair. He rolls onto his back and lifts me effortlessly onto his impressively thick and ready cock. I’m already wet for him, and he slides into me smoothly. I move up and down on him slowly, guided by his hands on my hips, until our bodies are perfectly in sync, moving together as one.
This isn’t a lust-filled coupling fueled by hours of boundary-pushing play, or a quick fuck. This is lovemaking—pure, intense, beautiful and more sacred than anything I’ve ever experienced before. As I begin to feel that quick drawing in at my core, he grips me tighter, his fingers digging into my hips. His thighs tense as his thumb grazes my clit and he presses lightly. I clench my sex around him, and with a cry, we come together in an explosion of shared passion so beautiful that I feel tears of sheer wonder inexplicably gather in my eyes.
Afterwards, he tucks me against his chest and we talk about serious things and trivial things that still give us a glimpse into each other’s world—from my father’s death to our favorite movies—until his breathing becomes even and I realized he’s fallen asleep again. I snuggle closer to him, acutely aware of the feel of his hand possessively cupping my breast and the warm solid feel of his chest against my back. I close my eyes, trying to drink it all in before it disappears.
When I wake up again, the bed is empty. I get up, use the restroom, slip on Marcus’ shirt, and walk out into the empty living area of the cabin. There’s a pot of coffee, but no sign of Marcus. I finally see him through the front window outside chopping wood. I take a minute to admire the ripple of muscles beneath the flannel shirt he’s wearing as he raises the ax over his head and brings it down effortlessly onto the wood, cleanly splitting it in two. I can’t help but smile; he’s attacking the wood like it’s a terrorist.
I pour a cup of coffee and take it with me outside onto the front porch. I lean against the wood column and take a sip, waiting for him to notice me. He looks up immediately, his eyes traveling up my bare legs, widening at the sight of the hard points of my nipples beneath the fabric of his shirt from the cold before finally resting on my face. A hundred emotions flicker in his expressive brown eyes before they become shuttered.
“Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll drive you back to Five Pines,” he says, turning back to chopping wood.
Stunned, and feeling slightly used and more than a little hurt, I turn and go back
Afterward, her thighs are shaking as I untie her. I hold her in my arms and hand her a cold bottle of water, insisting that she drink it all. She’s exhausted—utterly depleted—and as soon as I pull the covers around us, she snuggles into my chest and promptly falls asleep. God, I love the way she nestles into me. I stave off sleep until the first fingers of dawn light sky, content to simply hold her in my arms as I memorize every feature, the beat of her heart and the cadence of her breath, not wanting to miss a minute. But sleep, like all endings, is inevitable, and I finally close my eyes.
Chapter Eight
Ariana
I wake up before Marcus does, and I take advantage of the opportunity to really look at him without those bone-melting eyes of his watching me back, making me forget all rational thought. God, I’ve missed him. He’s beautiful, and I can’t help but touch him, smoothing one dark, thick eyebrow with the tip of my finger, savoring the feel of the scruff of his beard as it scrapes against my palm, and finally, bending over to trace his gorgeous full lips with my tongue.
He wakes up seamlessly, not even opening his eyes before he starts kissing me, his tongue stroking mine as his fingers thread in my hair. He rolls onto his back and lifts me effortlessly onto his impressively thick and ready cock. I’m already wet for him, and he slides into me smoothly. I move up and down on him slowly, guided by his hands on my hips, until our bodies are perfectly in sync, moving together as one.
This isn’t a lust-filled coupling fueled by hours of boundary-pushing play, or a quick fuck. This is lovemaking—pure, intense, beautiful and more sacred than anything I’ve ever experienced before. As I begin to feel that quick drawing in at my core, he grips me tighter, his fingers digging into my hips. His thighs tense as his thumb grazes my clit and he presses lightly. I clench my sex around him, and with a cry, we come together in an explosion of shared passion so beautiful that I feel tears of sheer wonder inexplicably gather in my eyes.
Afterwards, he tucks me against his chest and we talk about serious things and trivial things that still give us a glimpse into each other’s world—from my father’s death to our favorite movies—until his breathing becomes even and I realized he’s fallen asleep again. I snuggle closer to him, acutely aware of the feel of his hand possessively cupping my breast and the warm solid feel of his chest against my back. I close my eyes, trying to drink it all in before it disappears.
When I wake up again, the bed is empty. I get up, use the restroom, slip on Marcus’ shirt, and walk out into the empty living area of the cabin. There’s a pot of coffee, but no sign of Marcus. I finally see him through the front window outside chopping wood. I take a minute to admire the ripple of muscles beneath the flannel shirt he’s wearing as he raises the ax over his head and brings it down effortlessly onto the wood, cleanly splitting it in two. I can’t help but smile; he’s attacking the wood like it’s a terrorist.
I pour a cup of coffee and take it with me outside onto the front porch. I lean against the wood column and take a sip, waiting for him to notice me. He looks up immediately, his eyes traveling up my bare legs, widening at the sight of the hard points of my nipples beneath the fabric of his shirt from the cold before finally resting on my face. A hundred emotions flicker in his expressive brown eyes before they become shuttered.
“Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll drive you back to Five Pines,” he says, turning back to chopping wood.
Stunned, and feeling slightly used and more than a little hurt, I turn and go back
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