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.

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