Page 86 of Sawyer

“Totally amazing,” I murmur, letting go of his hands and placing my hands on his shoulders.

Holding his eyes, I skim my hands down his arms to his waist. Placing my hands on his hips, I bend my knees and kneel down in front of him.

“Ivy,” he breathes.

“Shhhh,” I murmur, reaching for his erection, then covering the tip with my lips.

I take him into my mouth, laving my tongue around his tip, while my hand holds his shaft. His fingers plunge into my hair, but he doesn’t push me or force me. He toys with the red strandsin a way that makes goose bumps rise up on my arms as I fist his cock and suck on its head.

He groans softly, like he’s in pain.

“S-Sweetheart,” he murmurs, lowering his hands from my hair to my cheeks. “Lie down.”

Looking up at him, my lips slick with pre-cum, I lie back on the makeshift bed, adjusting until my body is in the middle of the mattress. He joins me, kneeling over me, catching my eyes with his.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” he asks me.

“If it’s even half of what I feel for you,” I say, “our children’s children will feel it.”

He leans his head toward the crux of my thighs.

“I want to taste you.”

As his mouth covers my clit, I gasp, throwing my head back and closing my eyes. My pelvis lifts, desperately trying to get closer to the heaven of his tongue. His tongue licks the bud to a point, and I cry out in pleasure, scratching and scraping at Sawyer’s back, dying to feel him, thick and full, inside of me. And as if we speak an unspoken language, he covers my body with his, draws away from me, then plunges forward, impaling me completely.

“I love you!” I cry, trying to see him clearly as my vision blurs from tears.

Stroking me rhythmically, from the inside out, he leans forward, close to my ear. “You are all I want, Ivy. Forever.”

We. Let. Go.

He is on top of me, over me, inside of me, thrusting with such deep, tender movements, my body contracts at the same time as my heart, both plundered, both found, both convulsing with the sort of love that lasts forever.

In a tangle of limbs and love and pleasure, we hold each other until we are still…and then we sleep.

***

The next morning, since we are already in downtown Skagway, he walks me back to my aunt and uncle’s house.

Hand in hand, dressed in jeans and parkas, scarves and mittens, he muses:

“We’re together. But…what are you? ‘Girlfriend’ sounds ridiculous. But ‘fiancée’ isn’t right yet.”

“I’m just yours,” I say. “But, yeah. Girlfriend. For anyone who needs a label.”

“My girlfriend,” he says, trying out the words. “I like it. I like it a lot.”

“Me, too.”

“For years, I wished you were my girlfriend. And now you are. My sixteen-year-old self is rejoicing somewhere in time.”

I smile at his exuberance. “So is mine.”

“The play’s over. You work a nine to five, while my job doesn’t really start up again until April or May.”

“You still do work on the cabins and campground, right?”

“It’s too cold right now. Too much snow. We do some interior maintenance, but I’ve got a lot of time on my hands, Ivy Caswell.”

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