Chapter 5 #2
“Yes,” I whisper, lifting my hips up as he yanks my panties off in one pull. “Now. Please.”
Leaning over me, he holds his weight on his palms as he lines up with my entrance. The head of his cock brushes through my slick folds, teasing me. I moan and lift my hips, trying to take him. He sinks in.
Slow. He’s thick. He fills me… deep.
My whole body arches at the fullness. I gasp, “Ohhhhhhh…”
He groans like he’s dying. “Fuck—you’re so tight. You feel… Blakelyn. Fuck… ” My name leaves his lips like a confession.
He rocks into me, his hips rolling. I stretch, welcoming him, wanting more… though, I swear I feel him in my throat .
He moves and I wrap my legs around his waist, matching him thrust for thrust. He pulls out only to sink back in. “Blakelyn… oh shit…”
I move my hips in tandem with his, so full, but wanting more and more. Every thrust rubs against my clit, and I feel the wave building, again. Locking my ankles over his ass, I hold him where I need him and scream as I shatter… again. “Gruene… Oh, shit… Gruene. Yes… Oh, yes… ”
This isn’t just sex. It’s not even just passion. It’s desperation.
His hips move faster. His back tightens. His jaw clenches and sweat drips onto my breasts from his face and neck. It’s a man who thought he buried this part of himself, and a woman who never thought she’d be touched like this again.
He fucks me like he’s drowning in it—holding my hips, my jaw, my leg thrown over his shoulder, whatever he can grab as he drives into me, deeper and deeper, our sweat mixing with the heat of the day and the grass sticking to our skin.
“Harder,” I gasp, wanting even more from him. “Please— don’t hold back. ”
He growls and slams into me harder, faster, until every thrust hits that spot inside me that makes me see stars. Rocks are biting into my back and ass, but I don’t care.
I claw at his back. I beg. I scream his name. I come again , body convulsing around him, and this time, he loses it. “Fuck—Blakelyn… I’m gonna come—where do you want it?”
“Inside me,” I gasp, pulling him tighter into me. “ I need it. ”
His mouth crashes into mine as he thrusts once, twice more—and then, he shudders. His hips twitch. He comes with a groan that sounds like freedom.
We stay like that, still connected, panting, pulsing, shaking, mouths against each other, arms wrapped so tight neither of us can tell where one ends and the other starts. He breathes into my neck, and I press kisses to his shoulder.
He doesn't speak. Neither do I.
We both know that this wasn’t a fuck. It wasn’t casual. It was a claim. And nothing will ever be the same.
Gruene
She’s still breathing hard against my chest.
Her leg is draped over mine, her cheek on my shoulder, the inside of her thigh slick with both of us. The grass is damp beneath us. Her scent—fucking hell, that scent —is everywhere. Skin, sweat, river, and something so Blakelyn it could bring a man to his knees.
I’m still inside her. Not just physically. Not just buried to the hilt in the tight heat of her, but inside her . Inside this moment. Inside this thing we didn’t speak into existence but lit like a fuse and let it explode.
I should move. I should pull out. I should say something… anything. But I don’t. I can’t.
This is the first time since I buried Molly and Aubree that I haven’t felt like I was simply waiting to die.
This is the first time since I hauled myself out of a broken river that I’ve wanted to stay above water.
Because of her.
Blakelyn fucking Walker.
The woman who looked at me like I wasn’t just wreckage. The woman who didn’t flinch when she saw my scars. The woman who just let me fuck her like I’d been starving for years and didn’t ask for anything except… all of me.
I gave it to her.
Every dark, twisted, ruined part.
And she held on.
I shift my hips, slowly pulling out, and she lets out a small sound—half protest, half aftershock. Her hand slides down my stomach and lands on my thigh, her fingers twitching.
I want to kiss her. I almost do. But I stop myself and roll to my side, brushing her dark hair off her face.
“You okay?” I ask, voice like gravel.
She nods, blinking up at the canopy of cypress and oak trees above us. “More than.”
“I didn’t hurt you?”
“No.” She turns her head, looking at me with the softest look on her face. It’s a look I never expected to see again… from any woman. “You healed something I didn’t know could be touched, Gruene.”
That lands like a fucking bullet. I close my eyes for a second because I didn’t set out to fix her. I shouldn’t be able to fix anyone. I’m so broken… but maybe we just healed in the same place.
We clean up as best we can beside the river.
She slips into the shallows with a soft laugh, water swirling around her thighs, hair sticking to her back.
I follow, watching her wash away remnants of me from between her legs, over her stomach, and between her breasts.
My creamy cum coats her hand as she cleans herself and floats on the water.
It doesn’t make me feel possessive. It makes me feel undone.
This isn’t casual. It never was.
It’s dangerous.
Because if I let myself want Blakelyn, really want her , then I have something to lose… again.
I promised myself I’d never risk that.
I promised their graves I’d never replace them.
But Blakelyn isn’t replacing anyone.
She’s just Blakelyn and… she matters.
We don’t talk on the mile walk back. I carry the tube.
She walks barefoot beside me—she said she lost her flip flops in the water—her wet shorts back on and wearing my shirt because somehow, I tore hers removing it.
My shirt swallows her whole. And I swear I’d burn down the fucking world if anyone ever tried to take her from me now.
When we reach the edge of the cabins, she stops and looks up at me.
“I told you something back there. My name.”
I nod.
She lifts her chin and sighs. “No one knows where I am. I haven’t used my actual name in years.
Even though we weren’t married, I used Tyler’s.
He made me. It was another way to own me.
When I left him… I didn’t tell anyone. Not even my sister.
I just—I needed to disappear. No one believed me…
about him. Everyone thinks he’s this amazing guy, you know.
Grandma Nan was the only person who saw through him. She saw it before I did.”
“You don’t owe me?—”
“I want you to know.”
I exhale, pressing my thumb to her jaw. “I’ll keep you hidden, Blakelyn. If that’s what you need.”
Her eyes flash and I can read her thoughts.
I shake my head. “No, that’s not what I meant.
I’ll keep you hidden from whatever you need to hide from.
But I won’t lie and say I want to keep this quiet.
Whatever it is… I don’t want to hide it.
I’m not ready to broadcast it… but you aren’t a secret either. ”
I pause. So does she. She just stares at me, then, she whispers, “Neither do I.”
Something shifts.
This isn’t about hiding anymore.
This is about building.
We’re in her cabin. I’m awake in her bed with her body curled against mine, her cheek on my chest, her arm flung across my stomach like she’s already claimed the space.
She sleeps like she hasn’t in years.
I don’t. I stare at the ceiling and count her breaths. Because now I know what it’s like to have something to lose again. And that scares me more than the crash ever did.
She’s still asleep when I leave.
I head back to my own cabin, dress quietly, grab my keys, and walk to work before sunrise.
I need to get the rafts ready for the VFW float event this afternoon, after the stunt she pulled yesterday, I didn’t have a chance to do it last night.
It’s July 4 th weekend, and the river’s going to be packed by the time we open at nine.
But that’s not the real reason I go… I need to think… to be in motion… to wrap my head around what just happened.
What we did.
What it means.
Because the way she looked at me when I was inside her—when I was buried so deep I couldn’t tell where I ended, and she began—it wrecked me.
I want it again. And again. And again.
But I also want to deserve it.
She deserves that. And I don’t know if I do.
Reece walks in just after 7AM.
I’m stacking lifejackets and listening to old country. He glances at me and tosses his keys onto the counter. “You look like hell.”
I grunt in answer. I’m not in the mood for his shit today. He’s been trying to point me in Blakelyn’s direction since she arrived. If we hadn’t been friends for twenty years, I’d have knocked him out or fired him by now.
He keeps going. “Or maybe not . I mean—your shirt’s on inside out .” He grins and leans against the counter.
I glance down.
Fuck. My shirt is indeed on inside fucking out.
Yanking it off, I flip it, not saying a word.
He chuckles. “Didn’t think you were the type to get laid on a Thursday.”
I freeze and glare at him. His smile drops. “Shit. Sorry, man. That was a joke. I was just fucking with you.”
“She’s not a joke.” I snarl.
“No, man. Of course, she’s not. That’s not…. Shit. I didn’t mean?—”
“She’s not a joke.” I snarl.
Reece nods slowly. “I know , man. I’m sorry.”
Grabbing a bin of straps, I start loading the back of the truck, slamming them down.
I don’t even know why I’m so pissed.
He didn’t mean it like that. I know he didn’t.
He watches me for a beat, then mutters, “Gruene, I wasn’t trying to insinuate anything or insult her. You know that. I’m just saying… she seems… important .”
I jerk my chin, though I don’t answer. I don’t have to. He knows me well enough to know that she is.
By noon, the shop is swarming with locals and tourists alike.
Kids, vacationers, families, and regular floaters. It’s the day before the biggest day of the year for us.
I’m halfway through checking the last multi-person raft when I feel it. That shift in the air again. That storm-brewing silence.
I straighten, eyes scanning the dock.
But I don’t see her. I do see an unfamiliar truck parked at the edge of the gravel.
Out-of-state plates. Dark windows. Engine running. It could just be someone down for the weekend, but my gut clenches.
Then, I see her, halfway down the path between our cabins and here.
Blakelyn.
She’s frozen in place, her eyes wide and locked on the truck.
And I know before she even says a word…
I know.
He’s found her.
That mother fucker is here.