Chapter 13-Honor
I’ve been with women before.
I’m not inexperienced.
I know what desire feels like.
But this? This is something else entirely.
I’ve never felt this kind of unquenchable pull toward one woman in my life.
And having her say yes—having her want me back—doesn’t calm the fire like I thought it might.
It makes it worse.
Like gasoline poured straight onto an already out-of-control inferno.
We move together without speaking, as if words might break whatever spell we’re under. Our fingers are clumsy, desperate—grasping at zippers and buttons, peeling back layers with an urgency that feels primal. Ancient.
Like we’ve waited lifetimes for this moment and now we’re afraid it might slip through our fingers if we don’t move fast enough.
She’s not shy.
There’s no hesitation in her touch—no second-guessing, no flinch or pause.
She’s in this. All in. And that alone nearly wrecks me.
Because she’s choosing this.
She’s choosing me.
And I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve it, but my body reacts like it’s been waiting for her forever.
A violent shudder rolls through me the second her fingers skim my skin, and I swear my heart forgets how to beat for a second.
My breath punches out of my lungs like I’ve just been hit, not kissed.
Because that’s what this is—it’s not just a kiss. Not just skin on skin. It’s something else.
Something more.
Her mouth finds mine again, and I groan into the kiss—helpless to stop it, powerless against the way she tastes, the way she moves, the way she feels.
Her hands are on me, warm and sure, and every nerve ending I have lights up like it’s being struck by lightning.
I’m shaking.
Not from fear. Not from nerves.
From need.
My control—the careful restraint I’ve clung to for years—is gone.
Burned away by her touch. There’s no more pretending. No more keeping things casual.
This is wildfire, and I’m letting it consume me.
I’ve never felt like this. Never needed anyone this way.
I’ve been alive my whole life, but right now—with her mouth on mine, her skin against mine, her scent in my lungs—I feel it. Really feel it.
I’m alive.
And I never want this moment to end.
I grip her hips just to stay upright, forehead dropping to her shoulder as I fight to keep my voice steady.
She’s warm. Soft.
Everywhere I touch her, she feels impossibly right—like my hands know her shape instinctively, like they’ve been waiting for this moment.
Her hands are so warm and soft. So fucking hot as she wraps them around my hard as nails cock.
“Feel what you do to me,” I murmur against her skin, rough and honest. “That’s all you, Sunshine. Every damn bit of it.”
She gasps my name, breath hitching, and the sound goes straight through me.
I trail my touch slowly, deliberately, learning her reactions, memorizing the way she arches and presses closer like she needs more.
So do I.
But even as my body begs for it—demands it—something deep inside me is roaring louder than desire.
Louder than reason.
Mine.
The word isn’t spoken aloud, but it echoes in my chest all the same, insistent and relentless.
And I don’t know what it is, but I also don’t think I can pretend I don’t hear it anymore.
Rosie’s hands start to move, pumping me, and fuck, I can’t think anymore.
I groan and lick into her mouth once more before sliding my tongue across her neck and down to her perfect, plump tits.
Her nipples are hard and dark, like cherries, and I suck one into my mouth.
“Honor,” she whimpers my name this time as I suckle her and move my hands to the soft skin of her inner thighs.
I press them apart and trail my fingers through her slick folds.
Fuck, she’s wet. Really wet. Soaked.
And I’m dying to be inside her.
I push two fingers inside her, and her pussy clamps down on them.
Fuck. She’s tight.
I’m a big man. And that’s not conceit, mere fact.
My little Rosie is gonna need some preparation.
I can do that.
With my free hand, I guide us both until she’s lying flat on the thankfully thick blanket.
I lick up her chest to her neck and finally to her mouth, kissing her deep while keeping my other hand where it is—buried between her soft thighs.
“Be a good girl for me and stay,” I murmur, and she nods, those sweet baby blue eyes of hers go wide, sparkling despite the darkness surrounding us.
I move slowly, getting ready to slide down her body, and she listens, she stays.
Fuck, I love her acquiescence.
Love how she gives in to me.
So good. So sexy. Fucking perfect.
Kissing my way down the wonderland that is her body, I realize this is better than perfect. It’s kismet.
She tastes so good. Warm and sweet like sunshine and peaches.
Every fiber of my being seems aligned with that thought.
And that voice I keep hearing? The one that sounds barely human at all? Well, the more I taste her, the louder that voice gets.
Mine.
And I don’t even mind it because I agree. This woman is mine.
Made for me. Meant for me. And me alone.
Her belly trembles beneath my lips, and I can’t help it, I dip my tongue inside her navel before traveling lower.
Using my shoulders to make space for myself, I lower my face between her long, thick legs. The short curls covering her sweet slit are cropped and pretty.
I’m glad she’s not bare. And I’m so fucking turned on my cock is leaking everywhere all because she’s just her—just perfectly herself.
I can’t delay my need to consume her. Not with her laid out for me like a veritable feast.
I want to eat her. I will eat her.
Mine.
I snake my tongue out to lick between her slick folds.
“Fuck,” I moan at the tangy, delicious flavor I find there.
When I look up to find her staring at me, I shiver because those baby blue eyes I love so much, they’re fucking glowing.
And I don’t mean that as a metaphor.
They are actually fucking glowing. And the effect is stunning.
I’m not afraid.
No, instead I’m ravenous. Like a beast, I’m fucking salivating for her.
I lick into her sex, sucking down her juices, and fucking her on my tongue.
Rosalind moans, her body arching instinctively toward me, and something inside my chest snaps.
Bucking her hips against my face like the sexy goddess she is, and I am almost undone.
I brace one arm across her middle, not rough—never rough—but firm enough to hold her in place as I lose myself in her sweet flavor, in the intensity of her reactions.
The way she responds to me, to my touch?
It’s like she’s been waiting for this exact touch, this exact moment her whole life.
Me too, Sunshine. Me, too.
“Honor,” she breathes, voice breaking, fingers clutching at my shoulders like I’m the only thing keeping her grounded. “I—I can’t—”
Her legs try to draw together, overwhelmed, and there’s no way I’m letting her retreat now—not when she’s right here with me, trusting me with everything she’s feeling.
“Stay with me, Sunshine,” I murmur, low and intent. “Give it to me. It’s mine.”
She’s close. So close. And I want that orgasm more than my next breath.
“Honor!” Her moans are deep throated and husky.
Sexy. Just like everything else about her.
“That’s it, Baby. I got you.”
I don’t recognize myself in this moment—the certainty, the need to guide her through her orgasm, to be the steady force when she’s unraveling.
This isn’t just me wanting her body.
It’s me wanting her.
Wanting to be the one she leans into when everything else falls away.
The realization hits me hard and fast. This isn’t just lust. It’s deeper. Older.
Like something hard wired straight into my bones.
A biological imperative I don’t know how to fight.
When she finally breaks, clinging to me like I’m her anchor, the world narrows to the two of us—breathless, connected, locked together in a way that feels inevitable.
I move with her, guided by instinct more than thought.
I kneel between her splayed legs, notching my head to her entrance as if there was never another option.
Was there?
I don’t think so. This feels as if this is how it was always supposed to be.
My chest is heaving, and my pulse races. It feels like the culmination of every wish or dream I ever had is about to come true.
“Goddamn, Sunshine. Look at you,” I groan. “S’perfect.”
My cock is dripping all over her slick pussy, and I moan as I press inside, making us one.
“Fuck,” I groan.
“Yes,” she hisses.
I wait a beat.
Just one.
A single, sacred second to let her body adjust—to let her take me in. To feel her wrap around me like we were built for this. Built for each other.
Her breath catches, a soft gasp that sends a bolt of fire through my spine.
She’s so warm. So tight. So impossibly real.
My jaw clenches as I hold myself still, fighting every instinct screaming at me to move, to claim, to lose myself in the rush.
But I won’t rush this.
Not with her.
I watch her, my vision narrowing to the curve of her lips, the way her lashes flutter, the tension in her thighs as she curls them tighter around my waist.
I wait—not out of control, but reverence.
I want her to feel it.
All of it.
Every inch. Every beat of my heart pounding against hers.
Then she exhales, a low moan slipping past her lips, and I know.
She’s ready.
Together—like some unspoken cue—we move.
My hips roll forward, hers rise to meet mine, and just like that, we find the rhythm. That perfect give and take.
Her nails dig into my shoulders as I press deeper, harder, slower. Her legs tighten around me like a vise, drawing me in, holding me there like she never wants to let go.
And fuck, I don’t want to go.
It’s better than anything.
Better than pizza. Better than the sunset. Better than the way the ocean tastes on your skin after a swim. Better than any dream I’ve ever had.
She arches, I lean in. I drive down, she rises to meet me. We chase that same impossible, exquisite edge—like gravity doesn’t apply anymore.
Like this moment exists outside time, just us and heat and breath and need.
Rosalind moves with me.
Every press of her hips, every broken moan in my ear, every whispered curse—it’s all hers. And it’s all mine.
And I realize with heart-shattering clarity, I could do this forever.
Not just the sex. Not just the way she fits around me like she’s made of the same stardust.
But her.
I want her.
I want to keep her.
Can I keep you?
“Yes, oh yes,” she moans, and I wonder if I said that out loud.
She arches beneath me, a breathless, instinctive movement that presses her chest flush against mine.
Her curves mold to me like a memory I’ve been waiting my whole life to remember.
And I drop down—helpless to resist—surrendering my weight, giving her all of me.
Chest to chest. Skin to skin.
I bury my face in the crook of her neck, inhale her—sunshine and moonlight and something that’s just Rosalind.
Her fingers thread through my hair, and I feel her body welcome me deeper, like she was carved out for this exact moment. For me.
I can’t get close enough.
No matter how I shift, how I thrust, how tightly I hold her—it’s never enough. I want her closer.
I want her inside me the way I am in her.
Tangled. Twisted. Bound.
The way our bodies move—syncing without thought, without question—it’s more than sex. More than friction and heat and release.
It’s transcendence.
Something ancient. Something fated.
I feel it in the way her hips rise to meet mine.
In the way her lips part when she whispers my name. In the way her body wraps around me, clinging like she doesn’t want me to go.
Like she already knows I won’t.
Because I won’t. I can’t.
I’m too full of her.
She’s under my skin, in my bloodstream, carved into my bones.
I don’t know where I end and she begins anymore—and I don’t want to.
And through it all—through the ragged edge of pleasure, through the pounding in my chest, through the soul-deep way she feels like home—that voice inside me rises again.
Not a thought.
Not a word.
A truth.
Mine.
It’s not lust. It’s not instinct.
It’s certainty.
And for the first time, I know I don’t want that voice to stop. I want it to be right.
“Mine,” I say aloud.
I pump my hips faster, losing myself inside her. Like it’s the only place I ever want to be. Because it is.
“Fuck, that’s it. You’re my Rosie. Mine. All mine.”
And what does my Sunshine do with all my barbaric claims?
She loves it.
She flips us over.
I’m wild for her, squeezing her hips too hard with my fingers.
I’ll leave scratch marks.
S’okay. Mine.
Something inside of me likes that idea.
“Honor,” she says my name, and my gaze locks onto hers.
I nod. And her sheath tightens.
Then, Rosie starts to come. Hard.
Her face presses against my neck.
Something sharp stings me.
“Ow!”
Whatever it is, the moment is fleeting. She makes a sound.
Part growl, part purr—not really human—and her gorgeous body goes taut.
Then she pulls me straight over the edge with her.
Pleasure so pure, it’s blinding fills me.
And when it finally abates? I hear one word clearer than day.
“Mate.”