Chapter 63
SYLVIE
The second we were inside my apartment, Kent’s hands were everywhere. He pressed me against the door, his mouth hot and demanding on mine as his fingers worked the zipper of my dress. I tugged at his sweater, desperate to feel his skin against mine.
We stumbled toward the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in our wake. By the time we reached the bed, we were both down to our underwear, our breathing ragged with need.
Kent laid me down on the mattress, his eyes dark with desire as he looked at me. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, his voice rough. “I can’t believe I get to have you.”
“Then have me,” I whispered, reaching for him.
He didn’t need any more encouragement. He shed his boxer briefs and climbed over me, his weight settling between my thighs in a way that made me ache.
I reached between us, wrapping my hand around his length.
He was hard and hot in my palm. The groan that escaped him when I stroked him sent heat pooling low in my belly.
“Condom,” he managed, reaching for the nightstand.
I watched him roll it on with shaking hands, loving that I could affect him this much. When he finally positioned himself at my entrance, we both paused, our eyes locking.
“I love you,” he said softly.
“I love you too,” I breathed.
He pushed inside me slowly. The stretch was perfect, filling me completely in a way that made me gasp. When he was fully seated, he stilled, his forehead dropping to mine.
We both took a few seconds to just appreciate the moment.
He pulled back and thrust forward, setting a rhythm that had me clutching at his shoulders. It felt incredible, the slide of his body against mine, the way he hit that perfect spot inside me with every stroke, the weight of him pressing me into the mattress.
I arched beneath him, meeting his thrusts with my own movements. Our bodies found a synchronization that felt natural, like we’d been doing this for years instead of just beginning to learn each other.
“God, Sylvie,” Kent groaned, his pace increasing. “You feel so good. So perfect.”
I couldn’t form words, could only hold on as pleasure built inside me like a wave. His hand slipped between us, his thumb finding my clit and circling it in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation was almost too much.
“Kent,” I gasped. “I’m so close.”
“Come for me, baby,” he urged, his voice strained. “I want to feel you.”
A few more strokes and I was shattering, crying out his name as my orgasm crashed over me.
And then he was gone.
I gasped, blindly clawing at him.
He was up on his knees looking down at me with a dangerous smile.
“What are you doing?” I managed to ask. My body twitched with the aftermath of my orgasm.
“Just getting started,” he said. “Roll over. On your knees.”
I smiled and did as he asked, getting up on all fours.
I looked at him over my shoulder and watched him as he surveyed my body from the new angle.
He reached out and caressed one cheek. I felt his hand slide down my spine, a slow, deliberate touch that made me shiver.
His palm was warm against my skin, possessive in a way that sent heat flooding through my body all over again.
“Perfect,” he murmured. I heard the reverence in his voice. “You’re absolutely perfect.”
His hands gripped my hips, positioning me exactly where he wanted me. I felt him press against my entrance again, teasing me with shallow movements that had me pushing back against him.
“Kent, please,” I begged, not caring how desperate I sounded.
He thrust forward in one smooth motion, filling me completely from this new angle. The sensation was different. Deeper, more intense. I cried out at the overwhelming feeling of fullness.
“That’s it,” he groaned, his fingers digging into my hips as he set a punishing pace. “Take all of me.”
I gripped the sheets, my arms shaking as he drove into me over and over. Each thrust hit somewhere that made stars burst behind my eyes. I could hear the sound of our bodies coming together. The bed shook beneath us with the force of his movements.
One of his hands left my hip, sliding up my back to fist in my hair. He pulled gently, just enough to arch my back further, changing the angle in a way that had me gasping his name.
“You like that?” he asked, his voice rough with exertion.
“Yes,” I managed. “God, yes.”
His other hand came around to my front, sliding down my stomach to find my clit. The moment his fingers made contact, I nearly collapsed from the intensity. He held me up with the hand in my hair, keeping me exactly where he wanted me while he worked my body with devastating precision.
“I want to feel you come again,” he demanded. “Come on my cock, Sylvie.”
The combination of his words, his fingers on my clit, and the relentless rhythm of his thrusts was too much. I felt myself spiraling toward another orgasm, my entire body tensing in anticipation.
“That’s it,” Kent encouraged, his movements becoming more frantic. “I can feel you getting close. Let go, baby.”
I shattered with a cry that was probably loud enough to wake the entire lodge. My arms gave out, and I would have face-planted into the mattress if Kent hadn’t caught me, one arm wrapping around my waist to hold me up while he chased his own release.
“Fuck, Sylvie,” he groaned, his rhythm faltering. “I’m—”
He buried himself deep one last time, his body going rigid as he came. I felt him pulsing inside me. His grunts and soft curses filled the room.
Finally, Kent carefully withdrew and collapsed beside me on the bed. I immediately curled into his side. My entire body was trembling. That was way too much.
But oh so good.
“Give me a few minutes and we’re doing that again.”
I laughed. I wasn’t sure if he was serious. “I think I might need longer than a few minutes.”
“We’ll see,” he said. “You’re nowhere close to done.”
I didn’t know if my body could handle much more but he seemed to know my body better than I did.
“Tell me about your plans,” Kent said softly. “For the lodge. The tree farm. All of it.”
I propped myself up on my elbow to look at him. “You want to talk business right now?”
“I want to know what makes you light up,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “And thinking about this place makes you light up.”
I settled back against his chest, letting my imagination run wild.
“I want to restore the lodge to its former glory,” I said. “New plumbing in the older guest rooms, like you mentioned. But I also want to preserve all the original character. The wood paneling, the stone fireplaces, all of it.”
“What else?”
“I want to expand the Christmas events. Maybe add a Christmas market in December where local artisans can sell their goods. We could have live music, hot chocolate stands, sleigh rides through the tree farm.” I was warming to the subject now, my words coming faster.
“And I want to start offering packages. Couples’ retreats, family weekends, corporate team-building events. ”
Kent’s hand continued its soothing path along my spine. “Keep going.”
“I want to upgrade the rooms. Not change them, just make them more comfortable. Better heating, maybe add some luxury touches like heated bathroom floors and those fancy rainfall showerheads.” I paused, thinking. “And I want to build a few cabins. Upscale ones that we can rent out year-round.”
“That’s smart,” Kent said. “Diversify the revenue streams.”
I could feel myself getting more excited as I talked, the possibilities spreading out before me like a map. “And I want to modernize our online presence. Better website, social media marketing, maybe even partner with some travel bloggers and influencers to get the word out.”
“You’ve thought about this a lot.”
“I’ve had a lot of time to think,” I admitted. “Watching this place struggle has been hard. Knowing we were losing ground every year and not being able to do anything about it.”
“We will turn things around,” Kent said with certainty. “I have no doubt about that.”
I kissed him, slow and sweet, trying to pour all my gratitude into the gesture. When I pulled back, his eyes were warm.
“I’m hungry,” I announced.
Kent raised an eyebrow. “After all that food at dinner?”
“That was hours ago,” I protested. “And we just burned a lot of calories.”
He laughed and swatted my ass playfully. “What do you want?”
“Cookies,” I said decisively. “I have a whole tin of Mom’s Christmas cookies in the kitchen.”
“You’re going to eat cookies in bed?” Kent asked, his tone suggesting this was somehow scandalous.
“I’m going to eat cookies in my bed,” I corrected, climbing over him to grab my robe. “You can join me, or you can watch. Your choice.”
He watched me tie the robe with an expression that suggested he was already thinking about taking the robe off. “You know what? Fuck it. Let’s eat cookies in bed.”
I grinned and padded to the kitchen, returning moments later with the tin of cookies and two glasses of milk. Kent had pulled the sheets up to his waist and was leaning against the headboard, looking deliciously rumpled.
I climbed back into bed, settling cross-legged beside him and opening the tin. The smell of cinnamon filled the room.
“Your mom is a goddess,” Kent said, taking a cookie shaped like a Christmas tree. “These are incredible.”
“They’re her secret recipe,” I said, biting into a gingerbread man. “She only makes them at Christmas.”
We sat there munching cookies and sipping milk like children at a sleepover.
It was domestic and silly and absolutely perfect.
Kent got crumbs on the sheets and didn’t even seem to care, which felt like some kind of milestone for a man who probably had a housekeeper to change his sheets daily in his Manhattan penthouse.
“I could get used to this,” he said, reaching for another cookie.
“Eating cookies in bed?”
“Being with you. Doing normal, everyday things that somehow feel special because you’re here.”
I felt my cheeks warm. “You’re such a sap.”
“Only for you,” he said, pulling me against his side. A shower of cookie crumbs fell onto the sheets. “Shit, sorry.”
“Kent,” I said, cupping his face. “You can leave crumbs in my bed anytime.”
His expression softened. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I kissed him, tasting sugar on his lips. “This is what real life looks like. It’s messy and imperfect and full of cookie crumbs. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
He pulled me into his lap, the cookie tin getting knocked aside as his hands found their way under my robe. “Have I mentioned that I love you?”
“Once or twice,” I said, my breath catching as his fingers traced up my thighs. “But I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”
“I love you,” he murmured against my neck. “I love you so much it scares me sometimes.”
“Don’t be scared,” I whispered, letting my robe fall open. “I’m not going anywhere.”