Chapter 10
TEN
ANNISTON
I'm sitting on the couch with my book forgotten in my lap, the question still hanging between us like a spark ready to catch fire. "What will we do until morning?"
The words slip out soft and a little breathless, but I don't take them back.
The cabin is quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the wooden beams settling in the cool night air.
Banks is at the table, laptop open, shoulders tense under that black thermal shirt that clings to every hard line of muscle.
His jaw is locked tight, gray-blue eyes fixed on the screen like it's the only thing keeping him from coming apart.
He doesn't answer right away. The silence stretches, thick and electric.
I can feel the heat of his gaze even when he's pretending to work.
It's been two hours since that kiss on the rug, two hours of him brooding and me pretending I can focus on anything else.
My body still remembers the press of his mouth, the way his hand cupped the back of my neck like he owned me.
I shift on the cushion, thighs pressing together, trying to ease the ache that's been building since he pulled away.
Banks exhales sharply. His fingers hover over the keyboard for one more second, then he slams the laptop shut with a decisive click that echoes through the small space.
The sound makes my pulse jump. He stands up slowly, chair scraping back, and turns toward me.
His eyes are dark now, storm-cloud gray, filled with everything he's been holding back.
"Anniston," he says, voice low and rough like gravel under boots. "You really want to know what we're going to do until morning?"
I swallow hard, but I don't look away. Heat pools low in my belly, spreading outward until my skin feels too tight. "Yes."
He moves like lightning, crossing the room in three long strides.
One second he's at the table, the next he's in front of me, towering, all broad shoulders and restrained power.
His hand slides into my hair, fingers tangling at the base of my skull, and he yanks me up off the couch and into him.
Our mouths crash together, hot and urgent and nothing like the careful kiss we shared earlier.
This one is hungry. Demanding. His tongue sweeps in without hesitation, tasting me like he's been starving for it.
I moan into his mouth, hands fisting in his shirt.
He tastes like coffee and restraint finally breaking.
His free hand grips my hip, pulling me flush against him so I can feel exactly how hard he is already.
The thick length of him presses against my stomach, and a fresh wave of heat floods between my thighs.
"Fuck, Anniston," he growls against my lips, breaking the kiss just enough to speak.
His breath is hot on my skin. "You've been teasing me for hours.
Walking around in that little tank top, doing yoga like you're trying to make me lose my mind.
You have any idea what I've been thinking about doing to you? "
I shake my head, dazed, but my body arches into him on instinct. "Tell me."
He walks me backward until my back hits the wall beside the fireplace, the cool wood a sharp contrast to the fire burning under my skin.
His mouth trails down my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below my ear.
"I've been imagining spreading you out on that couch and licking you until you scream my name.
Imagining how tight you'd feel around my cock. How wet you'd get for me."
His words send a shiver racing down my spine. I love the filthy edge in his voice, the way this grumpy, controlled man is finally letting go. "Banks..."
He pulls my tank top up and over my head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. My breasts spill free, nipples already tight and aching. His eyes darken as he looks at me, one big hand cupping one breast, thumb brushing over the peak until I gasp.
"Look at you," he murmurs, voice dropping lower.
"So fucking pretty. These tits have been driving me crazy since the boutique.
" He bends his head and takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.
The wet heat of his tongue makes my knees weak.
I thread my fingers through his dark hair, holding him there as pleasure shoots straight to my core.
He switches to the other breast, lavishing it with the same attention while his hand slides down my stomach.
His fingers dip beneath the waistband of my shorts, teasing the edge of my panties.
"You're soaked already, aren't you, baby?
All that flirting and you couldn't wait for me to touch this pretty pussy. "
"Yes," I whisper, hips rocking forward. "Please, Banks."
He drops to his knees in front of me, yanking my leggings and panties down in one swift tug.
I step out of them, completely bare now, and he looks up at me with pure hunger.
His hands grip my thighs, spreading them wider as he leans in.
The first slow lick along my wetness makes me cry out.
He's thorough, teasing my clit with the flat of his tongue before sucking it gently between his lips.
"Oh God," I moan, head falling back against the wall. My hands tighten in his hair. He groans against me, the vibration sending sparks through my body.
"You taste so fucking good," he says between licks, voice rough. "Sweet and wet and all mine tonight. I'm going to eat this pussy until you come on my tongue, then I'm going to fuck you so deep you feel me for days."
His dirty words push me closer to the edge. He slides two thick fingers inside me, curling them just right while his mouth works my clit. The stretch is perfect, the rhythm relentless. I rock against his face, chasing the pleasure that's building fast and hot.
"Banks, I'm so close," I gasp.
"Come for me, Anniston. Let me feel it."
The orgasm crashes over me hard. My thighs tremble, a sharp cry tearing from my throat as waves of pleasure roll through me. He doesn't stop, licking and stroking me through every pulse until I'm boneless and shaking.
He rises slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes blazing.
"Good girl," he murmurs, kissing me deep so I can taste myself on his tongue.
His hands are everywhere, mapping my curves like he's memorizing me.
He lifts me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me to the couch and lays me down.
I watch, heart racing, as he strips off his shirt. His chest is all hard muscle and faint scars, abs flexing as he shoves his jeans and boxers down. His cock springs free, thick and heavy, the head already glistening. I reach for him, wrapping my fingers around the length, stroking slowly.
"Fuck, your hand feels good," he groans. "But I need to be inside you."
He settles between my thighs, one hand bracing beside my head. The blunt head of his cock nudges my entrance, teasing. "Tell me you want this, baby. Tell me you want me to fuck you."
"I want you," I breathe, lifting my hips. "Please, Banks. I need you."
He pushes in with one slow, deep thrust, stretching me wide. The fullness is overwhelming, perfect. We both moan at the same time. He stills for a second, buried to the hilt, letting me adjust.
"So tight," he rasps, voice strained. "So fucking perfect. This pussy’s gripping me like it was made for my cock."
He starts moving, slow at first, then harder, each thrust hitting that spot inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyes. I cling to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, meeting every stroke. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the cabin, mixed with our ragged breaths and my soft cries.
"Harder," I beg, heels digging into his lower back.
He gives me what I want, pounding into me with deep, powerful strokes. "That's it, take it all. Take every inch like the good girl you are. I want to feel you come around me."
His hand slips between us, thumb circling my clit in tight, perfect circles. The pressure builds fast, coiling tighter and tighter until I shatter again, clenching around him as pleasure rips through me.
Banks curses, hips stuttering. "Fuck, Anniston. You're squeezing me so good. I'm going to fill you up."
He thrusts deep one last time and comes with a low groan, body shuddering against mine. I feel the hot pulse of him inside me, and it sends little aftershocks through my body.
We stay locked together, breathing hard. He presses soft kisses to my neck, my jaw, my lips, the roughness from earlier melting into something tender. His weight is heavy and perfect above me, grounding me in the best way.
"Two hours," he murmurs against my skin, a hint of that grumpy edge returning even as his hand strokes my side. "Two hours of fighting it, and all I wanted was this. You."
I smile, running my fingers through his hair. "I'm really glad you stopped fighting it."
He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine. We stay like that for a long time, tangled and warm, the danger outside the cabin feeling miles away for the first time since this all started.
But I know tomorrow will bring new risks, new leads, new reasons to keep running. Right now, though, with Banks still inside me and his arms wrapped tight around my body, all I feel is safe and wanted and utterly satisfied.
And I wouldn't trade a single second of it.