Chapter Five
I pulled out of her only because I needed her standing. She made a sound at the loss, wrecked and unhappy, and I felt the mess of us follow. Slick. Mine. I dragged two fingers through it and held them up, so she had to see.
“That stays in you. Don’t wipe it off.”
“Grant—”
“Up.”
Her legs were already unreliable. I put her on her feet anyway and walked her the four steps to the window wall.
The glass was cold. The ridge beyond it was a black boil of weather.
Lightning walked the far slope and turned the whole cabin white for a blink, long enough that I saw us reflected there: me behind her, huge; her small and bare and shining down the insides of her thighs.
I took her wrists and set her palms on the glass.
“Don’t move them.”
She nodded. She was already pushing back, wanting what I’d just taken away.
I lined up behind her and slid in with one long, slow stroke.
It was easier than the first time, but not easy.
She was still tight, still swollen, still wet with what I’d left in her.
I bottomed out and stayed deep, hands on her hips, letting her feel how much deeper this was.
“Oh— God—”
“That’s different. I know.” I rolled my hips. Watched her mouth fall open in the glass. “You took me on your back. Now you’re going to take me like this.”
I fucked her standing.
I started slow, just because I liked the sight.
The glass reflected us in pieces—her small hands, my body behind hers, the shine of me spreading her open.
I watched myself sink into her, inch by inch, her body stretching around me like it still couldn’t believe it.
When I pulled out, I was even slicker. I pushed it back in and felt her shiver all over.
“Look.”
She looked. In the dark glass she could see exactly what I was doing to her. A helpless sound left her. She pushed back onto the next stroke all by herself.
“That’s it. Watch me fill you.”
I kept that pace until her arms started to shake. Long, slow strokes—almost out, then deep enough to take her breath away. My hands held her hips, keeping her in place. Every time lightning flashed, I saw her flushed throat, the wetness on her thighs, the way she stretched to take all of me.
Then I stopped being slow.
I snapped my hips in, and the tower creaked.
She cried out, went up on her toes, and still took it.
I did it again. Harder. The glass squeaked under her palms. I could hear how wet she was now, a filthy soft sound every time I bottomed out, and she was moaning on every thrust like she had forgotten the radio existed.
“Grant—oh my God—”
“I know. Keep your hands where I put them.”
She did, barely. Her cheek dropped toward the glass, and I caught her jaw, making her look at our reflection while I moved in short, deep strokes that kept her full. She was shaking—not from cold, but from how close she was, her body starting to tighten around me.
“Already?” I should have eased off. I did not. I reached around and found her clit with two wet fingers and rubbed her in time with my cock. “I barely got started.”
“I can’t— I can’t help it, I’m—”
She broke on the next thrust.
She cried out, loud and surprised, her whole body tensing, then shaking, gripping me so hard I had to grit my teeth not to finish too.
I held her up and kept moving, deep and steady, pushing her through the peak while she shook and tried to speak but only managed my name, over and over, wrecked and dripping on my cock, coming so hard her hands slid down the glass, and I had to put them back in place.
“That’s it. Get it out. You’re not done standing.”
She sobbed a breath and pulsed around me again, aftershock after aftershock, and I did not stop. I kissed the hinge of her jaw and kept giving her the same thick, wet strokes that had pulled it out of her in the first place.
“I can’t help it—” she managed when she could make words.
“Good,” I said against her ear. “Don’t.”
I folded her.
A hand between her shoulders, firm, not cruel. She went where I put her, ass tipping up, cheek near the glass, and the new angle punched a moan out of both of us. Deeper. Meaner. I watched myself sink into her from behind and had to breathe through the urge just to bury it and stay.
“That’s the rest of it,” I said. “That’s how deep you can take me now.”
“Grant—fuck—”
“Language.” I gripped her hip and neck and moved her, not careful anymore.
The stretching was over. Now I gave her what she’d asked for when she stopped my hand on the condom.
Every thrust made her moan. The mess from before was still inside her; I could feel it, see it start to slip out and get pushed back in.
She pushed back onto me. Hungry. Shaking. Still into it even wrecked.
“Don’t go soft on me now.”
“I’m not,” she gasped. “I’m not— just— it’s so deep—”
“I know. Breathe. Keep your hands on the glass.”
Lightning struck closer. The cabin flashed white. In the reflection, her mouth was open, eyes on mine, and she looked like someone who’d climbed a tower to stay untouched and failed in the best possible way.
The radio cracked.
“Lookout Seven, base. Miller. You copy?”
She froze around me, a tight, panicked clench that made my vision narrow. I did not pull out. I clapped a palm over her mouth, drove in to the root, and reached for the handset with the other hand.
“Seven. Hale.” Almost normal. Almost. “Go ahead.”
“Just checking you two are still upright. Cell’s sitting on the ridge. Anybody trying the stairs?”
“Negative.” Under my palm she whimpered. I rolled my hips, a slow, filthy grind she could not escape, and felt her flutter. “Road still closed from here. We’re in for the night.”
“Copy. Keep the volunteer off the grate if it ices. Radio check in an hour unless you need us.”
“Copy.”
I hung up.
I took my hand off her mouth and replaced it with my mouth at her ear. I was still buried in her. I had not missed a stroke for longer than it took to key the mic.
“You almost made a sound.”
“You were still inside me.” Her voice was wrecked, incredulous, and wet. “You didn’t stop.”
“I told you the road was closed. I didn’t tell you I was done.”
I fucked her through the scare. Harder, because the almost-caught had made her soak me and I was past patience. She cried out into the glass, palms squealing, and came again with my name broken in half, pussy milking me in helpless pulls. That was all I needed.
I slammed in, buried, and let go.
It hit me with a growl I didn’t try to hide. I moved in short, rough thrusts, emptying into her a second time, filling her while her legs nearly gave out and my hand on her hip kept her standing. I stayed inside until the last pulse, then a little longer, wanting her to feel every bit.
When I finally slid free, it was only far enough to look.
She was a mess—used, shining, my cum already starting to slip out of her. I gathered it with two fingers and pushed it back in, slow, and she moaned like it was all starting again.
“That stays.”
“Grant. I can’t stand.”
“I know.”
I turned her, put her back to the glass, and kissed her while I kept my fingers in her, holding the claim in place. Her legs were shaking so hard I had to pin her there with my hips. She kissed me back anyway, clumsy and hungry, still into it, still not asking me to stop.
Outside, the cell sat on the ridge and did not move.
The storm was not done.
Neither was I.