Sabrina
The first thing I notice is warmth. Heavy, solid, wrapped around me like a human furnace. Cole’s chest at my back, his arm draped over my waist, his breath slow and even against my hair.
Smiling into the pillow I stretch out my arms, smug and satisfied. Married yesterday, wrecked last night. My lumberjack husband kept his vow until the very last second, and then he broke me apart so thoroughly I’m still floating.
Cole shifts, pulling me closer. His nose nuzzles against the curve of my neck.
“Awake, pretty girl?”
“Mmm. Barely.” My voice is a sleepy rasp. “But I’m not moving. Ever. You can carry me around like a trophy.”
He chuckles, low and rough.
“I’d do it.”
We lie there, tangled in the sheets, cats prowling somewhere in the background like tiny, judgmental chaperones. Safe. Warm. Whole.
Then his hand starts to move. Slow strokes over my stomach, down to my thigh, back up again. Teasing.
I squirm.
“Cole—”
“Daddy,” he murmurs against my skin, voice gone dark.
A shiver shoots through me.
“Daddy.”
“That’s better.” His palm slides higher, slipping between my thighs, finding me already soft and wet from the memory of last night. “Look at you. Still aching for me.”
“I’m sore,” I protest weakly, but my hips tilt into his touch.
He kisses the shell of my ear, wicked and tender all at once.
“Then I’ll be gentle. Just this once.”
I laugh, breathless, and turn in his arms so I can see him. His dark eyes are heavy-lidded, his beard rough against my cheek.
“My husband,” I whisper.
“My wife,” he answers, and then his mouth is on mine.
It starts soft, sweet, but quickly deepens, heat flaring like kindling catching flame. His fingers stroke me until I’m gasping into his kiss, nails digging into his shoulders.
“Please,” I whimper.
He rolls me onto my back, settling between my thighs, his cock thick and hot against me. He holds my gaze, voice rough.
“You ready for more, pretty girl?”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Always.”
He pushes into me slow this time, deliberate, stretching me until I’m clinging to him, whimpering against his mouth. Every inch feels like a vow all over again.
And as he moves, I realize this is what forever feels like.
“God, you feel good,” he rasps against my lips.
His weight pins me perfectly to the mattress, grounding me. I wrap my legs around his waist, arching up to take him deeper. His thrusts are unhurried, purposeful, like he wants to carve himself into me. Mold my body to his.
I clutch at his shoulders. He doesn’t flinch as my nails sink into his skin.
“You’re, ah, you’re going slow on purpose.”
He smiles against my neck, nipping gently.
“Want to feel all of you. Want you to remember this.”
Like I could forget.
He braces his weight on one forearm, the other hand sliding down to my thigh, guiding me to open for him. My body answers his, slick and needy, pleasure curling hot and low until I’m trembling under him.
“Daddy,” I whisper, the word slipping out before I can stop it.
He groans, thrusts harder once, just to make me cry out, then goes back to that maddening pace.
“That’s my girl,” he moans. “My wife.”
The words hit me harder than his body does. My wife. A title, a promise, a claim.
My eyes sting, heat spilling over into something softer, deeper.
“Cole…”
He lifts his head, dark eyes locking on mine. The intensity there nearly sends me over the edge.
“Say it, pretty girl. Tell me I’m yours.”
“You are.” My voice breaks. “You’re mine. Always.”
His mouth crashes onto mine, the kiss wet and desperate, and then he finally lets go. His hips drive harder, deeper, the steady drag of him inside me shoving me right to the edge.
I break first. My body seizes around him, pleasure ripping through me in hot, wild waves. I scream his name, clinging to him as if I can anchor myself to him.
He follows with a guttural groan, thrusting deep as he spills into me, holding me tight through it, shaking with the force of our combined pleasure.
When it ebbs, he collapses onto me, chest heaving, face pressed into my neck. I thread my fingers through his damp hair, laughing weakly through the aftershocks.
“You’re heavy,” I murmur.
“Get used to it,” he mumbles into my skin, kissing me there, soft and lingering.
The cats meow indignantly from the foot of the bed, but neither of us move. Wrapped in him, full of him, I’ve never been safer.
I tilt my head, pressing my lips to his temple.
“Guess we survived our first night as newlyweds.”
He lifts his head, eyes warm and fierce.
“First of many.”
And when he kisses me again, slow and deep, I know he’s right.