Chapter 30 Mary
MARY
The cabin door shuts behind us, sealing out the cold and the war and everything that isn’t this. Snow falls heavy outside the single window, a silent white curtain against the dark. The only light comes from the low fire in the hearth, painting his skin in gold and shadow.
He turns to me, his hands coming up to frame my face, his thumbs stroking my cheeks. His breath ghosts over my lips. “Mary.”
I lean into his touch, my own hands sliding up his chest. “I’m here.”
He kisses me then, not with the frantic hunger of before, but with a deep, aching tenderness that unravels me. His mouth is soft, patient, tracing the shape of my lips until I open for him. Our tongues meet, a slow, languid dance that tastes of shared breath and a future we never dared name.
His fingers work the buttons of my shirt, one by one, his gaze locked on mine.
The fabric falls open, and his palm slides over my breast, his calloused thumb brushing my nipple until it tightens into a hard peak.
A soft sigh escapes me, my head falling back as he lowers his mouth to my skin, his tongue tracing a hot, wet path down my throat.
He guides me backward until my knees hit the edge of the narrow bed.
He lays me down, his body following, covering me without crushing me.
His weight is a comfort, an anchor. He strips my clothes away with a reverence that makes my chest ache, his lips following the path of his hands, worshiping every inch of me he uncovers.
When I’m bare beneath him, he rises onto his knees, his own clothes falling away. The firelight plays over the hard lines of his body, the lean muscle of his abdomen, the fierce jut of his hip bones. His cock stands thick and ready, and my mouth waters with the need to taste him.
I reach for him, wrapping my fingers around his length. He groans, a raw, shattered sound, his hips pushing into my touch. “You’re so beautiful,” I whisper, stroking him slowly. “All of you.”
He shakes his head, his eyes dark with feeling. “It’s you. Always you.”
He lowers himself over me again, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that’s all heat and promise. His hand slides down my stomach, fingers slipping through my wetness, circling my clit with a pressure that makes me cry out against his lips.
“Please,” I gasp, my legs falling open for him. “Silas, now.”
He guides himself to my entrance, the head of his cock pressing against me, hot and insistent. He pushes inside with one slow, relentless thrust, filling me completely, stretching me until I’m breathless. I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him deeper, my nails digging into his back.
He stills, buried to the hilt, his forehead pressed to mine. “God, Mary.” His voice is rough with wonder. “You feel like home.”
He begins to move, a slow, deep rhythm that has me clutching at him, my breath coming in ragged pants. Each thrust is a claiming, a vow, a silent promise spoken with our bodies. He shifts, angling his hips, and the next thrust brushes that spot deep inside me that makes my vision blur.
“Right there,” I moan, arching against him. “Don’t stop.”
He captures my mouth again, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of his hips. His hand slips between us, his thumb finding my clit, circling it in time with his thrusts. The pleasure builds, a tight, coiling heat in my belly, spreading through my veins.
The world narrows to the feel of him inside me, the slick friction of our bodies moving together. His rhythm is perfect, deep and steady, each thrust hitting that spot that makes my toes curl. His thumb keeps up its relentless circles on my clussy, the dual sensation pushing me higher, tighter.
"Silas," I gasp, my voice breaking on his name. "I'm so close."
"I know." His breath is hot against my ear. "Let go. Come for me."
His words are the final push. The coil in my belly snaps, and a wave of pure, blinding pleasure crashes over me. My body convulses around his cock, my back arching off the bed as a raw, guttural cry is torn from my throat. The world whites out, nothing but the pulsing, shuddering release.
He holds himself still, buried deep, letting me ride out the last tremors. My muscles go lax, boneless, my breath coming in ragged pants.
Before I can even process the aftershocks, he’s moving. He pulls out of me slowly, the loss of him making me whimper. He shifts down the bed, his hands sliding under my thighs, pushing my legs apart. He lowers his head between them, his breath warm on my oversensitive skin.
"You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, his voice thick with reverence. "All wet and open for me."
His tongue finds my clit, and I jolt, a fresh shock of sensation shooting through me.
He doesn't let up, his mouth working me with a slow, deliberate focus.
He licks and sucks, his tongue tracing lazy circles before flicking over the sensitive bud.
One of his fingers slides inside me, crooking to press against that spot again, and I cry out, my hands fisting in the rough wool blanket.
"Again," he commands softly, his lips moving against me. "Come for me again, Mary."
The pressure builds again, impossibly fast, a new heat coiling low in my belly. His mouth is relentless, his finger a steady pressure inside me. My hips buck against his face, seeking more, and he holds me down, his grip firm on my thighs.
"I can't," I pant, but my body is already betraying me, climbing again.
"You can." His voice is a dark promise. "You will."
His mouth leaves me with a final, soft kiss against my inner thigh. I’m still trembling, my skin humming with the aftershocks. He moves back up my body, his weight settling over me again, his cock hard and slick against my stomach.
I push at his shoulders. “My turn.”
A slow, dark smile spreads across his face as he rolls onto his back. The firelight catches the sheen of sweat on his chest. I swing a leg over him, straddling his hips, and he lets out a sharp, gratifying hiss as my wetness smears against him.
I take him in my hand, guiding him to my entrance. I sink down onto him slowly, my eyes never leaving his. The stretch is exquisite, a deep, full feeling that makes my breath catch. He fills me so completely.
His hands come to rest on my hips, his thumbs stroking my skin. “You feel… God, Mary.”
I begin to move, a slow, rolling rhythm of my hips. Up and down, taking him deep inside me. My hands brace on his chest, my fingers splaying over his pounding heart. His eyes are locked on mine, dark and full of a raw emotion that steals the air from my lungs.
I lean forward, changing the angle, and he groans, his head falling back against the pillow. His hands tighten on my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh as I ride him faster. The sound of our bodies meeting fills the small cabin, a wet, rhythmic slap.
“Faster,” he grits out, his voice strained.
I obey, lifting myself almost all the way off him before plunging back down. His cock hits that perfect spot deep inside me with every thrust, and a new coil of pleasure begins to tighten in my core. I can feel his control fraying, his hips bucking up to meet my downward strokes.
“I’m close again,” I pant, my rhythm becoming more frantic, less controlled.
“Me too.” His voice is a rough scrape. “Come with me.”
One of his hands slides between us, his fingers finding my clit.
The touch is electric, the final spark. My orgasm crashes over me, a wave of pure, blinding ecstasy that rips a broken cry from my throat.
My inner muscles clamp around his cock, milking him, and I feel him pulse inside me as his own release follows, his shout echoing mine.
He empties into me with a series of deep, shuddering thrusts, his whole body going rigid beneath me before collapsing back onto the bed.
I collapse against his chest, my ear pressed to the steady, solid thump of his heart. His arms come around me, holding me tight as our breathing slows, syncs. The fire crackles, the only sound in a world that has shrunk to this room, this bed, this man.
His fingers trace idle patterns on my bare back. “The chains are gone.”
I lift my head to look at him. “You feel it too?”
“Like a door slamming shut on a cold draft. It’s just quiet now.” He brushes a strand of hair from my damp forehead. “Just this.”
I snuggle back into the hollow of his shoulder, the warmth of his skin seeping into mine. The wool blanket is scratchy against my legs, but I don’t care. I’ve never felt more comfortable in my life. “All that running. All that fear. For this.”
“Would you do it again?” His voice is a low rumble beneath my ear. “Knowing it led here?”
I prop myself up on an elbow to see his face. The firelight softens the hard lines of it, turns the scars into silver threads instead of battle marks. “In a heartbeat. I’d walk through every fire, Silas. I’d fight every war.”
A slow smile touches his mouth. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”
“You’d better not.” I lean down and kiss him, a soft, lingering press of lips that tastes of salt and us. “I think I’d find you anyway. Seems I’m rather good at it.”
He laughs, a real, full laugh that vibrates through my whole body. “You are a menace with a singular focus, Mary.”
“You love it.”
“I do.” He pulls the blanket up over us both, tucking it around my shoulders.
The snow falls silently outside, a world hushed and holding its breath.
The fire pops, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney.
His hand finds mine under the covers, our fingers lacing together.
No more searching. No more desperate, lonely nights wondering if the other was alive. Just firelight, warmth, and peace.
“They were never lost,” I whisper into the quiet. “Just waiting to be found—by each other.”