Chapter 24 Silas
SILAS
Iwake to the scent of her—pine and snow and something wilder beneath. Her body curves against mine in the dim light of the cabin, her breath warm on my skin. The pain is a distant memory, a ghost beneath the weight of this. Of her.
Her fingers trace my jaw, light as a whisper. “You’re awake.”
I turn into her touch, my throat tight. “Mary.”
She shifts, her leg sliding over mine, her body pressing closer.
Her lips find the hollow of my throat, then my mouth, slow and deep, a kiss that tastes like forgiveness and want and things I never let myself hope for.
My hands slide up her back, under the thin cotton of her shirt, feeling the heat of her skin, the strength in her spine.
She pulls back just enough to tug her shirt over her head, her eyes never leaving mine.
Her breasts brush my chest, and I groan, my cock hardening against her thigh.
She reaches between us, her fingers working the button of my jeans, then hers, pushing fabric aside until there’s nothing but skin and heat.
Her hand wraps around my cock, her grip firm, her thumb stroking the head. I arch into her touch, my breath catching. “I need you,” I rasp, my voice rough with sleep and want.
She guides my cock inside her, slow, so slow, her body opening for me like something sacred. She sinks down onto me, her hips rolling, taking me deep. I fill her completely, and for a moment, neither of us moves. We just breathe, connected, her forehead pressed to mine.
Then she begins to move, a slow, aching rhythm that builds like a tide. Her hips rock against mine, her inner muscles clenching around me. My hands grip her waist, holding her close as I thrust up into her, matching her pace. Her breath hitches, her nails digging into my shoulders.
“Silas,” she whispers, her voice breaking.
I roll us over, pinning her gently beneath me without breaking our connection. I brace my weight on my forearms, looking down at her—her hair fanned out on the pillow, her lips parted, her eyes dark with need. I thrust deeper, slower, drawing each movement out until she’s trembling beneath me.
Her legs wrap around my hips, pulling me closer. “Don’t stop.”
I wouldn’t even if the world ended. I drive into her again and again, each thrust a promise, each gasp a prayer. Her body tightens around me, her climax building, and I feel my own control fraying.
Her nails dig into my shoulders, her breath coming in sharp, sweet gasps. I can feel her tightening around me, that familiar coil of pleasure winding deep in my gut. But I want to give her more. I want to taste her.
I pull out of her with a low groan, the sudden emptiness a shock to us both.
Her eyes fly open, a question in them. “Silas?”
I slide down her body, my hands gripping her thighs, spreading her wider. The scent of her, of us, is intoxicating. I bury my face between her legs, my tongue finding her wet heat.
She cries out, her back arching off the bed. “Oh god.”
I lick her slowly, tracing every fold, savoring the taste of her. Her hips buck against my mouth, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. I focus on her clit, circling it with the tip of my tongue, then sucking gently.
“Right there,” she moans, her voice ragged. “Don’t stop.”
I don’t. I drive her higher, my tongue working her in a relentless rhythm. Her thighs tremble around my head. Her breathing turns into desperate, broken pleas. I slip two fingers inside her, curling them, finding that spot that makes her gasp. I fuck her with my fingers as my mouth works her clit.
Her whole body goes rigid. A raw, shuddering cry tears from her throat as she comes against my mouth, her release flooding my senses. I keep my mouth on her, gentling my touch, drawing out every last tremor until she collapses back onto the bed, boneless and spent.
Her taste is still on my lips when I lift her from the bed. Her legs wrap around my waist instantly, her arms locking around my neck. She’s light in my arms, all warm skin and trust. I carry her across the room and press her back against the cool wood of the cabin wall.
She gasps as her skin meets the surface, her eyes fluttering open. I hold her there, my hands under her thighs, her heat pressed against my stomach. I’m so hard it aches.
“I need to be inside you again,” I tell her, my voice low, rough.
“Yes,” she breathes, her head tilting back against the wall. “Now, Silas.”
I guide myself to her entrance, the head of my cock slick with her wetness.
I push into her in one slow, deep thrust. She cries out, a sharp, beautiful sound that echoes in the quiet room.
She’s so tight, so perfect around me. I bury myself to the hilt and stop, letting her adjust, letting us both feel the fullness of it.
Her inner muscles clench around me, a pulse of pure pleasure. “Move,” she begs, her voice a ragged whisper against my neck. “Please.”
I pull out almost all the way, then drive back into her, hard.
The force of it slams her back against the wall.
A moan is torn from her throat. I set a relentless pace, fucking her against the wall, each thrust deep and claiming.
The room fills with the sound of our skin meeting, her soft cries, my ragged breathing.
Her nails score my back. Her breasts press against my chest with every movement. She meets each thrust, her hips rolling, taking me deeper. “God, Silas… right there…”
I can feel her starting to tighten around me again, her body coiling for another release. My own climax builds, a hot pressure low in my gut. I drive into her faster, harder, losing myself in the feel of her.
“Come with me,” I growl into her ear.
Her answer is a broken sob as her body convulses around mine, her orgasm crashing over her.
The intense clenching of her pussy pulls my own release from me.
I thrust deep and hold there, groaning her name as I spill into her, my own pleasure a blinding white heat that empties me out.
We stay like that, pressed against the wall, panting, connected, until our hearts slow.
I’m still buried deep inside her, our bodies slick and trembling. Her forehead rests against mine, our breath mingling in the cold morning air. The weight of what we just did hangs between us, thick and real.
Her fingers trace the line of my brow, the bridge of my nose. “You’re staring.”
“Can’t help it.”
A small, tired smile touches her lips. “See something you like?”
“Everything.” The word comes out raw, stripped bare.
It’s too much. I look away, my gaze catching on the dust motes dancing in a sliver of light cutting through the cabin window.
I have to say it. The truth has been a stone in my throat for years.
I shift, pulling us both down to the worn rug by the hearth, holding her against my chest. The fire pops, casting shadows that dance over her skin.
She nestles into the crook of my arm, her hand splayed over my heart. “Silas?”
I press my lips to her hair, inhaling the scent of pine and us. The words feel like gravel. “You were always the light.” I feel her go still against me. “I just didn’t know how to face it.”
She lifts her head, her eyes searching mine. There’s no judgment there, just a quiet, aching understanding. “Face it?”
“It was easier to live in the dark. Safer.” My thumb brushes her cheekbone. “Looking at you… it meant I had to look at everything else. All the things I’d done. All the things I wasn’t.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, her gaze steady. “And now?”
“Now I’m looking.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “And I’m not turning away.”