Chapter forty-four
rory
“Fuck, Freya. You feel… perfect.” I say, between breaths.
She whimpers and moans as she digs her nails into my shoulders.
I pull out slowly and thrust deeply into her.
I groan the deepest, most animalistic groan as her thighs clench around me.
I wish this could go on forever. Being deep inside Freya Collins is literal heaven.
I feel her hips starting to grind against me, her clit searching for friction somewhere above my cock.
I reach up to her mouth with my spare and put my thumb on her lower lip.
“Suck.”
And she obeys my command immediately, sending a pulse of heat straight through me. I reach down and use my thumb to rub circles around her swollen clit while I’m slowly, and deeply sliding in and out of her.
“Holy…” She breathes.
“You like that?”
“Yes, I… fuck that feels so good.”
Freya is perfection, gasping and moaning as I fill her completely.
Her eyes are fluttering shut, her head tipping back, exposing her perfect, slender neck for me.
I nip at her neck before peppering it with kisses up to her jawline and onto her mouth.
The slow, steady pace is quickening now as I feel Freya’s hips roll more desperately, setting a faster pace, begging me to let her come.
“Fuck Freya, that’s it, fuck me.”
She rolls her hips even more, pulling at my shoulders, drawing me closer, like even this isn’t quite enough.
And that’s the moment something inside me finally gives way.
It feels like every year I’ve spent wanting Freya, every time I forced myself to step back instead of leaning in has somehow led straight to this one point in time.
I kiss her deeply as our highs build, the world narrowing down to the warmth of her beneath me and the way she’s moaning my name.
Her breathing grows more uneven with soft sounds escaping her as her fingernails dig deeper into my arms. I slam into her, pounding and thrusting while both hands cup her head and my fingers entangled themselves in her hair.
“Yes… Rory… I’m going to…”
I already know. I can feel her pussy clenching around my cock and the sensation and my name on her lips sends me over the edge.
“Fuuucckkk Freya.” I groan, my mouth buried deep in her neck.
I continue thrusting into her, my cock throbbing and releasing as our bodies shudder and slow.
The orgasm lasts longer than anything I’ve ever had before. Stars line my vision as my cock continues to pulse and release for what feels like an eternity.
I feel her nails slowly release their grip on my arms, the tension leaving her fingers as her legs loosen from around my waist. The room has grown quieter now, the crackle of the fire the only sound besides our breathing as it gradually slows, both of us trying to catch up with what just happened.
For a moment neither of us moves. I stay there, still inside her, my face buried in the warm curve of her neck, breathing her in.
She smells like soap and woodsmoke and something that is just… Freya.
My brain, which has been suspiciously absent for the last while, finally begins to catch up. Did that actually just happen? Am I… in heaven?
“Wow.” Freya’s voice breaks into my thoughts.
I lift my head slightly to look at her. Her hair is a complete mess now, spread across the cushion behind her, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the fire and everything that just happened between us. She looks beautiful.
“That,” she says, breath still uneven but a smile tugging at her lips, “was incredible.”
I huff out a quiet laugh. “Glad you thought so.”
She tilts her head slightly, studying me with that familiar, mischievous look that usually means I’m about to be teased.
“You were keeping that talent a secret, weren’t you?”
I shake my head, leaning down to brush a quick kiss against her shoulder.
“It’s not a talent, Frey.”
“Oh?”
“It’s us,” I say quietly. “We just… fit.”
She goes still for a moment at that, her expression softening.
“Yeah,” she says after a second. “We do.”
For a little while we stay like that, neither of us in a hurry to move, the warmth from the fire washing over us while the house settles around us in the quiet of the night.
Eventually reality starts creeping back in. Freya exhales slowly and glances toward the window.
“We should probably get dressed,” she says reluctantly.
“Probably.”
“Before someone comes looking for the mugs and finds us naked in the common room.”
“Would certainly make the school newsletter more interesting.”
She laughs at that and gently nudges my shoulder.
“Come on.”
Reluctantly, I push myself up and help her sit up as well, both of us moving a little slower than usual, the sort of comfortable exhaustion settling into our bones that makes everything feel slightly unreal.
Clothes are gathered from the floor in a mildly chaotic pile.
Freya pulls her jumper back on, shaking her hair out as she does, while I tug my shirt over my head and attempt to restore some level of normality to the situation. It does not feel particularly normal.
Freya catches me watching her and raises an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m allowed. I’ve just slept with you.”
She rolls her eyes but I can see the smile she’s trying to hide.
We tidy the sofa slightly, straightening the cushions like two teenagers trying to cover their tracks, then pause for a second near the door. Neither of us quite knows what the correct behaviour is now. Freya breaks the silence first.
“So… that happened.”
“Yeah.”
“No take backs.”
I shake my head and laugh. “No take backs.”
She studies my face carefully, like she’s checking something. Then she nods once. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Outside, the air is colder than before, the walk back down the path lit only by moonlight filtering through the trees.
The campsite is quiet now, tents dark and still beneath the branches.
We walk side by side down the hill. Not touching, but close enough that our shoulders brush every now and then.
There’s a strange, peaceful sort of quiet between us now, the kind that settles after something big has happened and both people are still figuring out what it means.
When we reach the tents, Freya stops beside hers.
“Well,” she says softly.
“Well.”
For a second it feels like we might say something important. Instead she smiles faintly.
“Goodnight, Rory.”
“Night, Frey.”
She ducks inside her tent, leaving me standing there under the trees with the lingering warmth of the fire still on my skin, my lips still puffy and swollen from kissing hers and the quiet, undeniable certainty that nothing between us will ever be quite the same again.