Chapter 13 #2
I pour wine from the bottle I brought outside and hand her a glass, then lie back beside her on the blankets. The fairy lights create a soft, romantic ambiance while still allowing us to see the real stars overhead.
“I can’t believe how clear the sky is up here,” Hazel says, settling against my side with her head on my shoulder. “In LA, you can barely see a handful of stars through all the light pollution.”
I point up at the sky. “There’s the Big Dipper. And Cassiopeia.”
“Show me,” she says softly.
I trace the constellations with my finger against the dark sky, just like I used to when we were teenagers. Her hand finds mine, our fingers interlacing as we lie there surrounded by twinkling lights and infinite stars.
We lie there in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the night sounds of the forest. An owl calls from somewhere in the darkness, and in the distance I can hear the babble of the creek that runs through the property.
“Luke.”
I look over at her and her lips brush mine—soft, tentative, like she’s giving me one last chance to turn back.
I don’t. I crush her to me instead.
The kiss deepens in a heartbeat, my tongue sliding against hers, the taste of wine and autumn air making restraint impossible. My fingers wind in her hair, tilting her head back so I can take more, harder, deeper.
She makes a sound, a soft gasp, and it shoots straight to my gut.
“Hazel,” I murmur against her mouth, my breath already ragged. “This was supposed to be a sweet date.”
“I want more,” she whispers, her nails dragging down my back.
God help me, I’m helpless against her demands.
I press her down into the pillows, hovering just enough to see her flushed face in the glow of the fairy lights. She’s wide-eyed, lips swollen, chest rising fast beneath me.
“I need you to understand something,” I rasp, my thumb sweeping across her bottom lip. “That night in my cabin—during the storm? When I took you then?”
Her eyes darken at the memory, her breath catching.
“That was me restrained.”
Her lips part in shock, and then—damn her—she laughs, breathless, disbelieving. “That was you restrained?”
Her laughter cuts off in a sharp gasp when I grind into her, slow and deliberate, letting her feel exactly how close I am to breaking.
“This time,” I growl, my mouth grazing her jaw, “I’m not going to stay in control. I can’t. Not with you like this. I want it all.”
Her laughter is gone, replaced by a shuddering whimper as I nip her throat. My hands roam—her waist, her thigh, sliding higher, claiming her inch by inch.
“Luke—” she breathes, and the way she arches up to meet me tells me she doesn’t want me to hold anything back.
Her gasp still hangs between us when I slide lower, kissing down her throat, her chest, the soft line of her stomach.
Her skin is hot under my mouth, already slick with a sheen of sweat that tastes like salt and heat.
Each sound she makes—those little gasps, the broken sighs—feeds the hunger tearing through me.
By the time I reach the waistband of her jeans, her hands are there, fumbling with the button. I cover her fingers with mine, growling low, “Let me.”
She lifts her hips as I drag denim down her legs, slow on purpose, watching her squirm. Left in nothing but lace, she’s spread out beneath the fairy lights, glistening, flushed, and mine.
“Hazel,” I rasp, pushing her thighs apart, settling between them. The sight of her, wet and swollen and waiting, knocks the breath from my lungs. “You’re perfect like this.”
I tear the lace aside and bury my mouth in her.
The first taste is devastating—wet, raw, intoxicating. I groan against her folds, tongue sliding deep, and the obscene sound of me eating her fills the night. Wet, hungry, shameless.
She arches, a cry ripping from her throat, but I grip her thighs hard, pinning her down. “No running from me. You take it.”
Sweat drips down her stomach as she writhes, her fingers clawing my hair, tugging me closer. I don’t need encouragement—I want her wrecked. I drag my tongue through her folds, sucking hard at her clit, and the slurping sounds are filthy, echoing under the fairy lights like music.
“God, you taste so good,” I mutter against her. “Eight years and I’m still addicted.”
She chokes out my name, a strangled cry, her body slick with sweat, thighs trembling around my head. I smile against her, rough and triumphant.
“That’s it. Scream for me, sweetheart. Nobody’s out here. Nobody will hear you but me.”
Her pussy is drenched, every stroke of my tongue pulling more of her juices, every moan louder, more desperate. I hold her thighs wide, grinding my face into her, licking and sucking until the sloppy sounds and her broken whimpers tell me she’s about to shatter.
When she starts to shake, I press her down harder, tongue relentless, swallowing her release as she comes undone, loud and raw, her sweat dripping onto my skin.
And even then, I don’t stop.
I keep her on the edge, dragging more cries from her, drinking down every sound, every tremor, holding her in place like I’ll never let her go again.
She’s still trembling when I crawl back up her body, kissing her stomach, her chest, finally claiming her mouth again. She tastes of herself and sweat and desperation, and when she moans into the kiss, I know she’s ready for more.
I free myself with one hand, hard and aching, the tip dragging against her wet folds. She jerks beneath me, pleading without words.
But I don’t give her what she wants. Not yet.
I press just inside, shallow, teasing, pulling back before I give her the full length. Again and again, I push the edge of her sanity.
“Luke—please,” she gasps, her nails carving into my shoulders.
I grin against her neck, thrusting shallow again, just enough to make her sob in frustration. “I want you desperate for it, Hazel. I want you begging me not to stop.”
Her head tosses side to side, her hair sticking to her cheeks as I keep her right there—deep enough to feel, never deep enough to satisfy. The wet slap of me sliding in and out, the obscene sounds of her body clinging to mine fill the night.
When she’s shaking, clawing, half out of her mind, I finally slam all the way in. Hard. Deep. Her scream rips through the clearing, raw and perfect.
“That’s it,” I hiss, pounding into her, her body writhing under mine. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
Her voice breaks on every cry, her nails raking down my back, but I don’t ease up. I want her mindless. I want her ruined. I want her to be covered in my marks. Mine.
When I pull out, she lets out a broken cry, her body shuddering, confused at the sudden emptiness.
I don’t give her a chance to recover. My hands grip her waist, firm and unyielding, and I roll her over onto her stomach.
She gasps as I drag her up onto her knees, chest pressed into the pillows, ass high and trembling in the glow of the fairy lights.
The sight of her like that nearly undoes me.
Her thighs are slick, her pussy glistening, still clenching around nothing as though her body refuses to believe I left her empty. My hands tighten at her hips, thumbs digging into the soft flesh.
“Look at you,” I growl, dragging the head of my cock along her folds, coating myself in her wetness. “Already ruined… and I’ve barely started.”
She tries to push back against me, desperate for more, but I hold her still.
“Not yet.”
I slide in only halfway, then retreat, repeating it until she’s whimpering, incoherent.
“Luke—please—” Her voice is raw, high, already breaking.
I slam into her with one brutal thrust, burying myself to the hilt. Her scream rips through the night, muffled only by the pillows she clutches in her fists.
“That’s it,” I snarl, pounding into her, the wet slap of our bodies colliding echoing in the clearing. Sweat drips from my back, sliding down to hers, her wet heat joining us in the rawest way possible.
I set a relentless rhythm, grinding deeper with every thrust, forcing her higher onto her knees. Her body bows, spine arched, head thrown back in mindless surrender.
“God, Hazel,” I growl, gripping her hair, pulling her head back so her screams spill into the night air. “I told you. Nobody can hear you. Scream as loud as you want—I want every damn creature on this mountain to know you’re mine.”
Her walls clench around me, spasming, milking me as she comes hard, shattering beneath me. But I don’t stop. I drive her through it, each thrust wetter, filthier, until she’s sobbing, her voice gone, her body trembling so violently she can barely hold herself up.
I wrap an arm around her chest, hauling her upright against me while still buried inside her. Her back is slick with sweat against mine, her cries broken and delirious.
“You feel unbelievable,” I whisper into her ear, biting down on her shoulder. “I could take you like this forever.”
She’s still trembling against me, her back against my chest, when I ease her forward onto the pillows and withdraw. Her eyes are dazed and she gasps at the sudden emptiness, her body clenching, desperate to pull me back in.
“Up here,” I order softly, pulling her onto my lap as I drop back into the nest of blankets. My cock is hard and aching, straining for her. I grip her hips and drag her astride me, straddling my thighs.
The fairy lights glow behind her, haloing her sweat-damp hair, her flushed chest rising and falling like she’s already undone.
“Ride me, Hazel,” I growl, dragging her folds over the head of my cock. “Take what you want. I’m yours.”
Her hands press against my chest for balance, her nails biting into my skin as she sinks down, inch by devastating inch.
“Oh God,” she gasps, voice breaking. “Luke—I can feel… all of you—”
Her words dissolve into a moan as she takes me fully inside her, the stretch obscene, the wet sounds between us filthy and raw.
She rolls her hips, testing, and I grab her waist, guiding her rhythm. The slap of her body meeting mine echoes in the night, mingling with her broken cries.
“Faster,” she pants, eyes glazed, mouth trembling. “Don’t stop—please don’t stop.”
“Good girl,” I grunt, thrusting up into her, stealing control back. “Give me all of you.”
She throws her head back, hair tumbling, a scream tearing free as I pound into her from below, forcing her to take every brutal thrust. Her hands slip on my chest, her body bucking helplessly.
“I can’t—” she cries out, voice a wanton sound. “I can’t hold it—”
“Yes, you can,” I growl, gripping her ass, slamming her down harder. “Scream for me, Hazel. Let go.”
She does—her thighs shaking, her walls clenching tight, milking me as she screams my name into the night. Her release drags me over the edge with her, and I roar, thrusting hard until I spill inside her, holding her crushed against me as we both come undone.
When the tremors fade, she collapses onto my chest, body covered in sweat, shaking, her breath hot against my throat.
“Mine,” I whisper into her hair, possessively.
She doesn’t protest. Doesn’t argue. She just clings tighter, her silence speaking louder than any words ever could.
And it’s enough. More than enough. The quiet is its own answer, and it satisfies something deep inside me that’s been starving for years.