11. Mia
Chapter eleven
Mia
W e huddle together under the blankets, his skin warm against mine. His body heat seeps into me. I start to become more aware of my surroundings, more aware of him. His hard body is pressed against mine, and the terror I felt earlier just drifts away. I can’t ignore the spark of attraction that flares between us.
His arm wraps around me, holding me close to his body, and my butt nestled against his crotch. I can feel the rise and fall of his chest with every breath he takes. My heart starts to beat faster.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice low and close to my ear.
“Better,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
His hand rubs gently up and down my side, sending shivers through me that have nothing to do with the cold. Our situation is absurdly intimate, given the circumstances. It’s hard not to notice every detail: how his muscles tense and relax, the warmth radiating from his skin, the steadiness of his heartbeat .
We stay like that for a while, listening to the pop and crackle of the burning logs. My initial surge of want fades, replaced by a growing awareness of him. I can feel his breath against my neck. My body responds to his closeness in ways I can’t control.
I try not to move or breathe. It becomes very, very clear that he is feeling a certain way judging by the erection now pressing against my ass. I roll on my back and look at him.
“Sorry,” he mutters.
“Don’t be.”
Our lips touch, tentatively at first, then with more urgency. His hand tangles in my hair, pulling me closer. I lose myself in the kiss. I’m alive. This man kept me alive. We both survived a near plane crash, a grizzly bear, and a fierce winter storm. It seems pretty appropriate to seize the moment.
His hands explore my skin, sending waves of heat through me. I respond eagerly, my own hands finding their way to his back—his shoulders—feeling the strength and solidity of his body.
Our kisses grow more fervent, passion igniting between us. His hands move from my hair to my waist and then lower, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touch. I gasp as his fingers find the hem of my underwear. I don’t stop him. Instead, I pull him closer, my nails digging into his back.
I can feel the hardness of him pressing against me. A thrill of anticipation runs up my spine. I’ve never felt this way before—this desperate need to connect on some primal level. We survived death today; maybe we earned this moment of life.
His lips leave mine and blaze a searing path along my throat and collarbone, leaving me panting and even more frantic for him. By the time his mouth finds its way back to mine, I’m dizzy with need.
“Please,” I murmur.
“I’ve got you.”
Those three words ignite the spark, turning it into a full-blown inferno that sweeps through the entirety of my body. His hand moves to my hip, fingers digging in as he pushes the fabric of my underwear aside. He hesitates for a moment, looking at me with a question in his eyes.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Our excited pants fill the room, hot and heavy against the cold night air. His fingers move against my skin, creating a devastating friction that sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through me. My head falls back against the pillow as I arch into him, losing myself in the sensation.
His lips are everywhere: on my neck, my collarbone, my breasts. Everywhere he touches comes alive. I grip onto him, needing something—someone—to anchor me as I toss in an ocean of sensations.
His body is hard against mine, our naked flesh pressed together under the blankets. His fingertips slide across my folds. I jerk at the sensation of being touched so intimately.
He takes his time, allowing me to adjust and relax. His fingers are skilled, knowing just when to change pressure or angle. His lips continue their sweet torture, kissing a path down my body as his fingers explore. I’m gasping, writhing, melting under his touch.
“Don’t stop,” I whimper.
I can feel the orgasm building. My body, nearly frozen solid an hour ago, is hot—hungry. The release is so close.
He adds a second finger, stretching me and making me gasp. His mouth moves lower, stopping right at my belly button. A whimper escapes my lips as his hot breath tickles over my lower body.
His mouth hovers over my core, his breath fanning the wetness between my thighs. “You’re sure?” he asks again, his voice hoarse with desire.
“Please,” is all I can muster, my body yearning for more.
His tongue slides against my folds, tasting me. I hear him groan as though he’s been starving and suddenly given a feast. Pleasure builds within me, rising like a tidal wave threatening to drown me.
His fingers are relentless, plunging into me rhythmically as his tongue flicks against my sensitive bud. The combination sends tremors coursing through me, and my body jerks involuntarily.
“Noah,” I cry out his name like a prayer begging to be answered.
He responds with renewed fervor, driving me closer and closer to the edge until I’m teetering on the precipice. It’s building up in the pit of my stomach—an explosive pleasure just waiting to burst through me.
I gasp and moan as I hit the point of no return. The world around me blurs as euphoria streaks through every inch of my body, an unstoppable force that overwhelms my senses. My breath hitches as my body trembles, riding the waves of ecstasy.
“Noah,” I say his name again, this time a whisper lost in the throes of pleasure. His hands tighten on me. He leans over to silence my cries with another passionate kiss. The taste of myself on his lips sends another jolt of desire through me.
I claw at his back, pulling him closer, needing him as much as I need air to breathe. He breaks away from our kiss and looks down at me with dark, lust-filled eyes.
“You’re amazing,” he murmurs against my lips before claiming them again.
Suddenly, I feel empty without him inside me. I yearn for more—so much more. He seems to understand because he quickly positions himself between my thighs, aligning himself at my entrance.
With a quick nod from me, he pushes in slowly, allowing me to adjust to his size. The stretch is deliciously painful, but it soon turns into pure bliss as he starts moving inside me. Each thrust sends waves of delight coursing through me .
He sets a rhythm that has us both gasping for breath and moaning each other’s names. The scent of our arousal fills the small room. I cannot think of anything more romantic than making love in front of a crackling fire with a winter storm raging outside.
He slows his movements. “Are you okay?” he whispers against my lips.
“Yes,” I gasp, wrapping my arms around him tighter.
And then he begins again. Leisurely at first and then faster, with a pace that has me writhing beneath him. The pleasure builds and builds until I think I can’t take anymore. Then it peaks, and I am swept away once more—breathless and shaking.
My body is completely his to control. I can’t explain what’s happening. I’ve never been this aroused in all my life. Even after a second orgasm, I know I’m not done. I need more.
His movements become more urgent. “That’s it,” he says in a guttural voice. “You’re alive. Let yourself go.”
His command sends a quiver down my spine, a wild thrill coursing through my blood. I tighten around him, feeling him pulsate inside me in response. His pace quickens, his grunts of pleasure intensifying as he nears his own release. Sweat beads on his forehead, glimmering in the flicker of the firelight.
His hand slips between us to tease my sensitive bud, sending jolts of electricity radiating through me. Heat tightens in my belly. I have no control over the sounds that escape me. My nails dig into his back as I gasp out his name.
He kisses me fiercely, swallowing my cries as, for the third time that night, I detonate. I am floating in a hazy of passion when he stiffens above me, throwing his head back as he finds his own release. With one final thrust, he groans out my name.
Exhausted but sated, he lowers himself onto me carefully so as not to crush me. His chest rises and falls heavily against mine with each labored breath he takes. We stay like that for a while—tangled together without speaking.
Noah slides off me, pulling me against him once again, spooning me. “So, I should say I’m sorry,” he says.
“You’re sorry,” I laugh. “Sorry, you accidentally put your penis inside me? ”
He laughs, the sound a wave of delight. “I don’t think I could ever be sorry about that. I mean, I’m sorry for thinking you were a spoiled, uptight bitch.”
“I didn’t know you were thinking that,” I giggle and roll to face him.
He grins, gently brushing a strand of hair from my face. “I thought that when you were late. I thought you were going to be one of the spoiled rich bitches that want me to fly them to their massive cabin in the woods that looks more like a ski resort than a house. But you weren’t.”
“I can assure you I’m not rich,” I tell him. “I can be a bitch, but not often.”
“I wasn’t very nice to you. I’m sorry for that.”
“I think saving my life a few times in twenty-four hours more than makes up for that.”
He chuckles and then kisses me softly on the lips. “Hey, I’m just doing my job.”
“Well, you’re amazing at it,” I whisper, my fingertips tracing the lines of his face. My heart swells with affection.
“You know what I could really go for right about now?”
“What? ”
“A shot of whiskey,” he smiles. “Maybe two.”
“When we get back to civilization, I will buy you a whole bottle of whiskey. You can have all the shots you want.”
“I like the sound of that.”