Page 40 of Owned In Misty Mountain
And when we come, it’s together—me gasping his name, him groaning mine, his cock jerking deep inside me as I clench around him and fall apart all over again.
—-
He doesn’t leave me after.
He stays buried inside me. Face pressed to my neck. Arms wrapped around me like a shield.
And when he finally pulls back and looks down at me, his voice is a whisper:
“You good?”
I nod, still trembling. “Yeah. You?”
“I am now.”
—-
When he touches me, it’s slow.
Deliberate.
He sees me.
Every inch.
Each curve.
Every scar.
“You’re alive,” he murmurs, brushing his knuckles over my belly. “You’re safe.”
I reach up and frame his jaw with both hands.
“Yes, honey. We are..”
Then I pull him down to me.
It’s slow.
Deep.
High heat, low burn.
His mouth doesn’t stop moving.
Neither do his hands.
He whispers my name like a prayer and makes love to me like I’m his every reason to breathe.
And when he finally sinks in, trembling, all I can do is wrap my legs around him and give him everything I have left.
—-
I wake up warm. Naked. Sore in all the best ways.
The sheets smell like woodsmoke, soap, and something darker. Something male and musky and mine.
I stretch slowly, every muscle humming with memory.
