Page 137 of Beyond the Cottage

Their hearts slammed against each other’s chests. Gretta’s head slowly cleared, leaving her in a sleepy, satisfied daze.

“Am I crushing you?” he asked, voice muffled by her hair.

“It’s okay. I could stop breathing and probably wouldn’t notice.”

He got on his elbows and looked down at her. They exchanged slow, oddly shy smiles.

He looked so peaceful. This was a version of Ansel she didn’t recognize, how she imagined he’d been before the cottage. She wanted to see him like this again.

She brushed hair off his temple, and he nuzzled her palm.

Still friends. But now more.

The thought shocked Gretta—mostly because itdidn’tshock her. In fact, she felt pretty damn relaxed herself. Like she was where she was supposed to be. Ansel felt like home.

She didn’t know specifically what that meant, but her gut told her they’d gone past friendly fucking. It could still end in disaster, and she had no idea where they were going or where they’d end up, but for the first time in Gretta’s life, she wanted to find out.

Overwhelmed, she nudged his shoulder. “Up, Anse. I have to pee.”

Grumbling, he got off her and they both sat.

“Huh,” he said. “Would you look at that.”

“What?”

He opened her legs and hooked a finger inside her. Gretta felt a slippery tug. With a triumphant grin, he dangled the wet ribbon.

“That’s disgusting,” she said.

He tossed it in the wastebasket and kissed her. “Looks like I won, after all.”

“You cheated.”

“How so? You never said I couldn’t fuck the ribbon off.”

“Well…technically, you used your hands. It’s a wash at best.”

“You always were a poor sport,” he laughed.

She shambled to the bathroom on weakened legs. After peeing, she undressed and returned to the bedroom with her clothes bundled.

Reclining with one knee bent and his back against the side of the bed, he stared at her naked ass as she hung her clothing. When she finished, she folded his pants and shirt then placed them on a chair.

“I never knew you were such a little neat freak,” he said lightly.

“Of course you’d call taking care of one’s garments freakish, considering you’re an abject slob.” She crawled in his lap sideways, curling into his arms. His cock swelled against her hip as he held her.

She closed her eyes with a yawn. “I might need a minute before round two. Or is it round three?”

“Who’s counting? By the way, where will I be sleeping?”

“In bed with me.” The answer came easily, even though she was as inexperienced with sharing a bed as she was with mouth play. She’d missed snuggling him so much.

She yawned again, and he nudged her cheek off his chest. He carried her to bed and tucked her under the covers before turning off the lamp. He settled in behind her, curling his body around hers.

Chapter 48

Buzzards circled a candy-pink sky. Crows with licorice wings perched in the Eater’s wood. Ansel had escaped the cottage, but now he waded through a river of syrup, trying to run but barely moving.

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