16. Brock
Brock
We drive back to the outpost in near-silence, the mountains darkening around us as the last light drains from the sky.
At the cabin I clear the perimeter, check the generator, and scan the tree line from the porch. Clean. No tracks. No disruption to the motion sensor on the north approach. I step inside and lock the door behind me.
"If they're consolidating cargo at the camp tonight, the distribution window is tomorrow," she says without looking up. "That gives Silas and Mason about eighteen hours to position assets and execute the raid."
"Harlan's coordinating with Mason right now. Silas is pulling his clean deputies into a separate channel. By morning the operational plan will be set." I hang my jacket and start building a fire. "We need to eat and sleep. Tomorrow is going to move fast."
She nods. We eat standing at the counter, reheating stew from the supply stock.
Neither of us sits down. The energy in the cabin is different tonight.
Not the slow-burn tension of the last few days.
Something sharper. The feeling before a mission, when everything you've been building toward is about to happen and the only thing left is the doing.
After we eat she showers and I check the weapons cache. Sidearm cleaned and loaded. Spare magazines. The rifle I'll leave with Rafe's men who'll be stationed here with Hazel tomorrow. I set everything out on the table in ordered rows, then stow it in the case by the door.
When Hazel comes out of the bathroom her hair is damp and she's wearing my flannel over her sleep shorts. She stops at the edge of the bed and looks at me.
"Come to bed," she says. Not an invitation to anything more. Just the simple request of a woman who doesn't want to sleep alone on the night before everything changes.
I strip down to my thermal and jeans and lie beside her on top of the quilts. She curls against my side, her hand flat on my chest. The fire crackles. The wind pushes against the windows. The sat phone on the nightstand is set to scan.
For a long minute neither of us speaks. Then her fingers flex against my shirt.
"Brock."
"Yeah."
"When this is over. When the camp is secured and the case is closed. I want time with you. Real time. Not crisis time. Not outpost-under-siege time. Just us."
I pull her closer. "You'll have it."
She shifts, propping herself up on one elbow so she can look at me in the firelight. Her hair is still damp from the shower. She's wearing my flannel and almost nothing underneath. The sight of her in my clothes in my bed does something permanent to my chest.
"I don't want to wait until it's over," she says quietly. "I want you now."
I go still. "Hazel?—"
"I know the timing is terrible. I know tomorrow could go wrong in a hundred ways. But I've spent every night since the storm replaying that kiss and wishing I'd asked for more. I'm done wishing."
She leans down and kisses me.
This one isn’t soft or careful. It’s hungry and certain and full of everything we’ve been holding back. I roll her under me in one smooth motion, bracing my weight on my forearms so I don’t crush her. She makes a low sound against my mouth and hooks one leg over my hip, pulling me closer.
My hand slides under the flannel. Bare, warm skin. No bra. I groan into the kiss.
“You’re sure?” I manage, voice rough.
“Yes.” Her eyes are dark and steady in the firelight. “I’m sure. I want this. I want you. Tonight.”
That’s all I need.
I kiss her deeper, slower, and let myself stop fighting it. My hand cups her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple until it tightens. She gasps into my mouth and arches up.
“Fuck, look at you,” I mutter against her lips. “All soft and eager in my shirt. You got any idea what that does to me?”
I push the flannel open and off her shoulders, baring her completely. The firelight loves her. I take a second just to look—pink-tipped breasts, the soft curve of her stomach, the little pair of sleep shorts that are already damp between her thighs.
“Pretty little thing,” I rasp. “All mine tonight.”
I duck my head and suck one nipple into my mouth, hard enough to make her cry out. My hand slides down her stomach and straight into those shorts. She’s soaked. Slippery and hot and perfect.
“Jesus Christ.” I stroke through her pussy, circling her clit with two fingers. “You’re dripping for me already. That all for Daddy?”
Her breath stutters. Her eyes flash up to mine—surprised, then dark with heat. She likes it. Good.
“Answer me, sweetheart.”
“Yes,” she whispers. “All for you.”
“Good girl.”
I shove the shorts down her legs and toss them. Then I’m pushing two thick fingers inside her while my thumb keeps working her clit. She’s tight as hell. Her hips jerk and she moans loud enough that I feel it in my chest.
“That’s it. Take my fingers. Get this pretty pussy ready for me.” I curl them and watch her fall apart. “Gonna stretch you open on my cock next. You ready for that?”
“Please—” She’s already shaking. “Brock, please?—”
“Please what?” I pump my fingers deeper, rougher. “Use your words, baby. Tell Daddy what you need.”
“Your cock,” she gasps. “I need your cock. Please.”
I growl, pull my fingers out, and shove my jeans and boxers down just far enough. My cock springs free, heavy and already leaking. I give it two rough strokes, then notch the head against her entrance.
I lock eyes with her. “Last chance to stop me.”
She hooks both legs around my waist and pulls. “Don’t you dare stop.”
I push in.
Slow at first—she’s so fucking tight I see stars—but I don’t stop until I’m buried to the hilt. She cries out, nails digging into my shoulders. I hold still, forehead pressed to hers, breathing hard.
“Fuck. Look at you taking all of me. Such a sweet, pretty girl.” I roll my hips once, grinding deep. “This pussy was made for my cock, wasn’t it?”
“Yes—oh god?—”
I start thrusting. Deep, steady strokes that rock the whole bed. The wet sound of me fucking her fills the cabin. I hook one of her knees over my elbow so I can get even deeper and watch every inch of my cock disappear inside her.
“That’s it. Take it. Take every fucking inch like the greedy little thing you are.” My voice is pure gravel. “Gonna fill this tight cunt up tonight. Mark you so deep you’ll still feel me tomorrow when you’re sitting at that table pretending you’re not sore.”
She moans my name like a prayer. Her tits bounce with every thrust. I drop down and suck a mark onto the side of her neck, right where anyone would see it.
“Mine,” I snarl against her skin. “Say it.”
“Yours… I’m yours?—”
“Damn right you are.” I reach between us and rub her clit in tight circles. “Now come for me. Squeeze Daddy’s cock while I fuck you through it.”
She shatters.
Her whole body locks up, pussy clamping down so hard I almost lose it. She sobs my name and I keep thrusting, dragging it out until she’s shaking and oversensitive.
Only then do I let go.
I slam home one last time and come with a guttural groan, burying my face in her neck as I empty everything I have inside her. Pulse after pulse. Claiming her the only way I know how.
For a long minute the only sound is our ragged breathing and the fire. I stay inside her, not ready to leave that heat yet. I press soft kisses along her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her mouth.
“You okay?” I murmur.
She’s smiling, dazed and beautiful. “I’m perfect.”
I carefully pull out and watch my cum slip out of her. The sight does something primal to me. I swipe two fingers through the mess and push it back inside.
“Keep it in you tonight,” I tell her, voice low and filthy. “I want you walking around tomorrow still full of me.”
She shivers and nods.
I clean us up just enough with my discarded thermal, then pull the quilts over both of us and tuck her against my chest. She fits like she was carved for this exact spot. My hand strokes slow up and down her spine.
“Sleep, sweetheart,” I murmur against her hair. “I’ve got you. No one’s taking you. Not while I’m breathing.”
She’s out within minutes, soft and trusting in my arms.
I stay awake a little longer, listening to the mountain, one hand splayed possessively over her bare hip. Tomorrow we go to war. Tonight she’s mine—marked, claimed, and safe.
I close my eyes and let the quiet hold us both until morning.