Chapter Fourteen
Briar
The firelight flickers across the cabin walls, painting everything gold and shadow.
My hands are shaking from saying yes. Mama Rue’s voice echoes in my ears—her low, sure words binding us in the mountain way.
No paper, no preacher, just earth and fire and the clan watching.
Rafe’s hand was warm around mine when she said the final blessing.
Now the cabin door is shut, the world locked out, and it’s only us.
I turn to him.
My heart is loud, but my voice is louder.
Seeing my mom and my sister broke something open in me—the last place he still lived. The part of me that stayed quiet so I could survive. Once it cracked, the words came back all at once. Not careful. Not small. I don’t measure them anymore.
I don’t stop.
“Rafe.”
He freezes halfway through unbuttoning his shirt, eyes lifting to mine. They’re dark, searching, the way they always are when he’s trying to read me without words. I used to need that look. Now I don’t.
I step closer. The hem of my dress brushes his boots. I lift my chin so he can see every inch of my face.
“I get to want things now. And I want you to breed me.”
The words come out clear. Full. No stutter, no rasp. They hang between us like smoke.
His breath catches—sharp, audible. His fingers stop moving on the buttons. For one long heartbeat he doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, just stares at me like my words are holy and filthy.
I don’t flinch. I don’t drop my gaze.
“I want you to fill me until I’m dripping with you.” I press my palm low on my belly, right where the future already feels possible. “I want to feel you come so deep it stays. I want to carry your baby, Rafe. Tonight. As your wife.”
His eyes go liquid, dark and bright at once.
“Briar…” My name is half growl, half prayer.
I reach for him. My fingers find the open edge of his shirt and slide inside, palms flat against the warm, hard plane of his chest. His heartbeat slams under my touch—fast, unsteady. Mine matches it.
“You heard me,” I whisper. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you what I need.” I rise on my toes and brush my lips against the corner of his mouth. “I choose you. Today and every day. Breed me, husband. Make me swell with you. Make me yours in every way that matters.”
He exhales like the air’s been punched out of him. Then his hands are on me—big, careful. One cups the back of my neck, the other settles low on my waist, thumb brushing the spot I just touched.
“You sure?” he rasps. “This isn’t—”
“I’m sure.” I cut him off, firm. “I’m not that girl anymore.
I’m not silent. I’m not afraid.” I slide my hand down his chest, lower, until I’m cupping the thick ridge of him through his pants.
He groans, hips jerking into my touch. “And I want you to fuck me like you’ve been dreaming about since the day you carried me home. ”
His control cracks. Just a little. Just enough.
He kisses me then—deep, slow, claiming. His tongue strokes mine, tasting every word I gave him. When he pulls away his eyes are wild.
Emotion vibrates through both of us. Until it breaks.
Rafe’s mouth crashes back to mine. The kiss is deeper now, hungrier, the word wife settling into his bones.
His hands slide under my thighs and lift me in one smooth motion.
My legs wrap around his waist on instinct.
The hard length of him pushes against my core through our clothes and a low, needy sound escapes me—still words, still mine.
He carries me to the bed and lays me down tenderly. The quilt is soft beneath my back. The cradle sits in the corner, catching firelight on its carved edges—stars and curling leaves, a promise already made. Seeing it there makes my chest ache in the best way.
Rafe kneels between my legs, eyes locked on mine. “Tell me what you want, wife.”
I don’t hesitate.
“Lick me,” I say, clear and deliberate. “Make me wetter. Prepare me so I can take every drop of you.”
His groan vibrates through the air between us. He hooks his fingers under the hem of my dress and drags it up slow, baring my thighs, my hips, my stomach. When the fabric bunches at my waist he pauses, palms flat against my skin, thumbs stroking.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs. “Every inch of you made for this. For me.”
He lowers his head and kisses the inside of my thigh—soft at first, then open-mouthed, teeth grazing enough to make me arch. I thread my fingers into his hair and guide him higher.
“There,” I say. “Right there.”
His tongue finds me through the thin cotton of my underwear. One long, slow drag that makes my hips jerk. He growls against me, the sound rumbling straight into my core. Then he pulls the fabric aside and licks me properly—broad, wet strokes over my clit, circling, flicking, tasting.
“Fuck, you’re sweet,” he says against me. “Could do this all night. But I’ve got plans for you, wife.”
I moan—full, unbroken. “Deeper, Rafe. Use your fingers. Stretch me.”
He obeys. Two thick fingers slide inside me, curling just right, stroking that spot that makes my toes curl. His tongue never stops. The wet sounds are obscene, filling the cabin. I rock against his face, chasing more, and he lets me—lets me ride his mouth while he worships.
“You’re already clenching,” he growls. “Your pussy knows what’s coming. Knows I’m gonna fill this perfect little womb tonight.”
The words hit me hard. I tighten around his fingers, thighs trembling.
“Yes—” The word breaks apart on my lips. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
He adds a third finger, stretching me wider, tongue laving faster. My back bows off the bed. Pleasure coils tight and bright behind my navel.
“Rafe—” My voice cracks, but it’s still words. Still me. “I’m going to come.”
He sucks my clit hard, fingers pumping, and I shatter—loud, shaking, crying his name in full sentences as the orgasm rips through me.
“I’m coming—oh God, I’m coming for you—”
He drinks every pulse, every tremor, until I’m boneless against the quilt. I don’t disappear. I stay. Only then does he lift his head, lips glistening, eyes feral.
“That’s my girl,” he rasps. “Now you’re ready.”
He rises over me, cock thick and leaking against my thigh.
“Tell me when,” he says. “Tell your husband when you want him inside you.”
Rafe rises over me, the firelight carving shadows along the hard lines of his shoulders.
His cock rests heavy against my thigh—thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip.
He braces one forearm beside my head and uses the other hand to guide himself to my entrance.
The blunt head nudges me open and I feel the first slow stretch.
“Look at me,” he says, voice low and wrecked.
I do. Our eyes lock.
He pushes in one careful inch. Then another. My breath catches at the fullness—thick, hot, stretching me wide. I feel every ridge, every vein, the way my body has to yield to take him.
“God, Briar,” he groans. “Feel that? Feel how deep I’m going? This is where our baby’s going to grow.”
I nod, fingers digging into his biceps. “Yes. Deeper. Don’t stop.”
He sinks the rest of the way in one long, steady glide until his hips are flush against mine and I’m stuffed full. The pressure is exquisite—borderline too much, exactly enough. I clench around him on instinct and he hisses through his teeth.
Rafe rocks once, shallow, letting every inch drag out and slide back in. Then he goes still, buried to the hilt, forehead dropping to mine. Just breathing. Just feeling. Giving me a moment I didn’t know I needed.
I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him tighter. “Harder,” I tell him. “Fuck me like you mean it. Like you’re claiming me forever.”
His eyes flare—dark and possessive. After he pulls back almost all the way, he slams home again. The bed creaks. My breasts bounce with the force of it. Pleasure spikes sharp and bright behind my navel.
“Yes—” My voice is loud, unbroken. “Just like that. Pound me, Rafe. Fill me up.”
He sets a rhythm—deep, grinding thrusts that hit that spot inside me every time. Each stroke pushes the air out of my lungs in little gasps that turn into words.
His hand finds mine and anchors it above my head. Our fingers lace. His other palm spreads wide over my lower belly, bearing down so I feel him even more.
“Right here,” he growls. “Gonna flood this sweet womb. Gonna watch you swell with my child. You’ll carry me inside you, wife. Proof you’re mine.”
The words light me up. I arch, meeting every thrust, rocking my hips to take him deeper. Sweat slicks our skin. The wet slap of our bodies fills the cabin—filthy, perfect.
“I’m close,” I gasp. “Don’t stop—don’t you dare stop. Come inside me. Give it to me.”
He leans down and kisses me hard, tongue stroking mine in time with his hips. Then he pulls back to watch my face.
“Come for me first,” he orders. “Let me feel you clench when you do. Then I’ll fill you.”
I’m already there—coiling tight, pleasure cresting fast. My thighs shake. My voice cracks open.
“Rafe—I’m coming—fuck, I’m coming—”
The orgasm crests over me. I cry out full sentences, loud and shameless, my walls pulsing around him, milking him hard. He groans my name, thrusts turning erratic, desperate.
“That’s it,” he rasps. “Take it. Take every drop.”
He slams deep one last time and stills—cock throbbing, pulsing hot inside me. I feel the first thick spurt, then another, flooding me so full it’s overwhelming. He grinds slow, forcing it deeper, making sure nothing escapes.
I’m shaking. Full. Claimed.
Pressing my lips to his throat, I don’t say anything at all. Some things are bigger than words—even for a girl who just got hers back.
He stays buried, hand hovering warm and certain over my belly, forehead resting against mine.
We’re both panting.
Both smiling.
Both home.
After a long moment, his lips brush my ear. “Gonna stay right here. Until you’re bred. Until there’s no question.”
I whisper against his mouth, “More. I want more. Don’t pull out yet.”
He doesn’t.
He stays buried, forehead resting against mine.