Page 21 of Wooded Bliss

As if he can read my mind, he murmurs, “I’m going to stretch you out before I take you.” He presses open mouth kisses to my thighs, moving up toward my pussy with each one. “Trust me,” he pleads.

Something in me shatters as he plunges a second finger inside of me, moving them slowly, but with purpose. “I trust you,” I keen, my voice high and thready as I arch my back, presenting my tits to him.

I can feel his eyes on them and my nipples harden further. How is it that he doesn’t even need to touch me to make it feel like he’s touching me? It’s wild.

Every pump of his fingers inside of me, every breath against the sensitive skin on the inside of my thighs, every part of me he takes in with his eyes, feels like too much and not enough. When he buries his face between my thighs, his beard is soft and scratchy against my skin. His mouth hovers above my pussy and I move my hips, grinding down against his hand while hoping he takes pity on me.

When he doesn’t, I plead, “Please, Thatcher.”

He growls and I explode the moment he sucks my clit into his mouth. Everything around me brightens as the tingles he makes dance across my skin feel like they explode in little fireworks all around me. It’s intense, and the best damn orgasm of my life.

I barely register Thatcher crawling up my body until he rests some of his body weight against me. It grounds me in the moment and my eyes snap open. When did I even close them?

As I stare up into his dark brown eyes, it feels like something is peering out of them and taking me in. But then it’s gone. I shake my head, ridding myself of the thought because it makes no sense.

“Are you sure you want this, Birdie?” Thatcher’s voice is deep, a few octaves lower than his normal voice, and it has me wrapping my legs around his waist.

His thick cock slides between my pussy lips. Not only can I feel the glide of his hard length, but I can hear just how wet I am. So fucking wet.

Once the idea of being stretched by his big cock takes root inside my mind, I can’t get rid of it. And I don’t want to.

My fingers dive into his hair, and I pull him down toward me until our lips are almost touching. “I need you inside me, Thatcher,” I implore him, my voice needy as hell, “please.”

He grunts, the sound barely on this side of feral. When he reaches between us and lines himself up against my entrance, I panic for a second. He won’t fit. I’m too small and he’s way too fucking big. But I can’t look away from his dark gaze and it helps me find a sense of peace, an anchor amongst the tempest swirling around us. Can he feel it too?

As the head of his cock sinks into me, I take a deep breath and my entire body relaxes. The tingles I’ve only ever felt with him engulf me and I’m lost to the feeling of being stretched as he slowly pushes inside of me. I might be a virgin, but I haven’t been a stranger to my own pleasure, even though it was neveranything like this, and he meets no real resistance other than the tightness of my channel.

“That’s it,” he praises me, the gritty words making me sink further into pleasure. “You’re mine,” he snarls.

And then he starts to move. Everything else fades away. The time he spent hiding far away from Whispering Pines. The crush I used to have on him I thought had disappeared. His gruff words from yesterday.

The only thing that matters is this. I give myself over to him, every thrust, every rotation of his hips, every kiss, and every labored breath. His movements claim me, and I think, maybe, I claim him right back.

“Thatcher,” I wail, my body hovering right on the edge, unable to process or tell him what I need to fly over.

His mouth latches on to where my neck and shoulder meet and his teeth scrape against my sensitive skin. That does it.

I scream out his name as my pussy clamps down around his cock and I feel him grow thicker inside of me. Every pulse of my orgasm is my body begging for his cum and he doesn’t disappoint.

With a roar, he plunges as deep inside of my stretched pussy as he can. The warmth of his release, of his cum filling me, makes a feeling of bliss spread throughout my body along with the tingles on my skin as he presses kisses everywhere he can reach.

There’s such a reverence in the action, and for the first time in my life I feel truly cherished. I can only hope that this is the start of forever.

CHAPTER 9

BIRDIE

It’s been a few days since I woke up to find myself alone in my bed. I knew I hadn’t dreamed the night before because my body was deliciously sore, and I could still feel the ghost of Thatcher’s touch. While I was a little confused, I couldn’t find it in me to believe everything he said and the moments we shared in the silence, between the pleasure we found with each other, were bullshit.

I looked into Thatcher’s eyes and saw the depth of his emotion. He meant his apology. He meant his claiming.

Even now, in his absence, I don’t feel like he came out of hiding only to take advantage of me. Maybe I’m just naïve.

Hell, maybe every word out of his mouth was a manipulation. He could have been with hundreds of women instead of givinghis body to me and only me just like I gave my body to only him.

My gut tells me everything was very real between us. It’s my head that’s been trying to keep me grounded in reality. I certainly wouldn’t be the first woman taken in by pretty words and smoldering good looks.

Since I’ve been only slightly better than useless the last few days, it’s time to get my shit together, find my bravery, and confront the situation head on. I won’t let Thatcher run, if that’s what he’s doing. And if everything he said was a way to get in my pants, then he’s going to face me and admit it.

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