Page 107 of Beyond the Cottage

His brow lifted. “I see. Shall we check the armory for a whip? Or perhaps you’d like to take this somewhere more public?”

She tore off her tunic and camisole and flung them away. He made a point of keeping his eyes on her face.

“I want you to kiss me while we fuck,” she said. “Exotic, right?”

“I prefer the other way, if you don’t mind.”

“I do mind.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her tits to his chest.

His palms came to her waist, smoothing over her bare skin. “I’m afraid I’ve recently retired from danger. Now, be a good little fuck buddy, and bend over for me.”

“Kiss me, Anse.”

“No.” His mouth was so close, she felt the word on her lips. The musky smell of sex tinged the air between them.

They stayed like that for agonizing seconds, neither willing to give in. When she couldn’t take it anymore, she tightened her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

He resisted at first. Persevering, she gently tugged on his top lip, then his bottom one, over and over in little sips. His mouthfinally relaxed, and she opened it with her own. She lightly brushed her tongue against his.

His chest vibrated. He shoved a hand in her hair, holding her head in place. With a deep groan, he took the kiss over, claiming her mouth in a full on assault, leaning her backward, pressing his cock to her belly.

As she held on to him, he lifted her by the ass. He carried her to the pallet and covered her with his body. Her legs fastened around his waist.

“No more games,” she said as his mouth trailed along her neck. “No more thinking.”

He lifted his head and stared into her eyes. Gretta stared back, breath coming hard.

His hand slipped down her ribs, over her stomach. He reached between their legs and gripped himself. She felt a gentle nudging at her entrance.

“No more thinking.” He drove home in one thrust.

Gretta’s neck arched, and her vision wavered. Fingers fanning her cheek, he tilted her face forward until she looked at him. He plunged in again.

“I want your eyes on mine,” he said, fluidly riding her. “I want you to knowexactlywho’s fucking you.”

“I do,” she whispered.

“Who, Gretta? Tell me who’s fucking you.”

“Ansel.Ansel is fucking me.”

Groaning, he quickened his pace. His thrusts got erratic and tight. “And who am I?”

“My friend, the best one I ever had.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “My favorite personever.”

He shouted wordlessly. His cock shuddered as it emptied, and she let out her own cry. She arched against him, quaking, coming harder than she ever had. He’d just done something to hershe didn’t understand. Fucking someone you cared about wasdifferent.

As they slowly came down, Gretta hid her face in his neck. Her eyes watered, and she dried them in his hair, trying to stave off a wave of panic.

Had they just fucked everything up?

Had she been an idiot to believe once would be enough?

Wouldeverythingbe different now?

He rose to his elbows. His cock slid out with a squelch, and she felt his come trickling in its wake. He rolled to his back, and for long seconds, they caught their breath.

“Well,” he finally said, buttoning his trousers. “Glad we got that out of our systems.”

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