Page 105 of The Autumn We Fell in Love

Coarse, guttural cries join Autumn’s, and it takes me a long moment to realize that they are mine. Her slit is closing in on me again and my balls contract and I know I can’t hang on for much longer.

Gritting my teeth, I ride out Autumn’s next glorious orgasm, then let loose my own. Howling into the night like a banshee, I empty myself into her cauldron, pumping until I’m spent.

I collapse on her, breathing hard, blood chugging thick and hot through my veins. After I come back down to earth, I roll us so that she’s laying on my chest, the blanket we had sex on tucked around her shoulders. My satisfied dick softens and falls from her embrace into the night’s cool air.

“That was amazing,” Autumn purrs, laying her head over my heart, right where it belongs.

“You’re amazing,” I counter, arms wrapped tight around her. I’ll never let this woman go, not while she still wants me.

We lay in silence, watching the stars. And then, almost without warning, the nearly full moon slides from behind the eastern mountains, illuminating the earth with silver light so bright the gravestones cast shadows.

“Wow,” she breathes, raising her head to take it all in, the moon’s glow reflected in her dark eyes. “I never thought I’d say this in Deadwood — at least, not so soon after arriving — but this place, with the moon . . . it’s enchanting.”

Enchanting. That’s exactly the word I’d use to describe Autumn. She appeared in my life as by magic and now everything feels different. Even the damn moonlight is more beautiful with her around.

I squeeze her harder. Her eyes slide to mine, a teasing smile playing over her lips. “So . . . sex in a cemetery. That’s a first for me.”

“Me too,” I grin.

“You really are my boo boy now.” She gives me a whisper of a kiss that makes me shiver.

I don’t miss her word choice. “Yourboo boy?”

She twines her arms around my neck, eyes crinkling at the corners in a goddamn gorgeous smile. “Heck yeah. You’re all mine, Xander.”

“Good,” I growl and kiss her hard, sealing our promise to each other.

Autumn

“How do I look?” I ask, emerging into the bedroom from the master bathroom to twirl before Xander. I try not to shiver under the near-physical sensation of his gaze roving my form.

“Very good.”

I put my hands on my hips and aim a fake pout at him. “Just very good?”

He comes over and slides his hands around my waist, tugging my pelvis so it brushes his and the hardness growing there. “Very, very good.” He kisses me on the neck. “I’m amazed.”

Xander smiles as I lose my battle with the shiver. He knows how to make me squirm.

We’ve put in a lot of practice in the squirming department since our first night together. I guess it was only a handful of days ago, but it feels like more. We go together, Xander and I. Being with him feels effortless.

After we made love among the gravestones, he drove me to his house. He’d made us tea and we’d talked for hours, eventually falling asleep in each other’s arms.

I never left, never made it to my parents’ house. I’m living with Xander now and although it’s not what I expected when I moved to Deadwood, I’ve never been happier.

“You look pretty good yourself,” I say, fingering the knot of his necktie.

His eyes glitter with mischief. “Just good?”

Entwining my fingers with his, I pull him into the bathroom where we can survey our reflections side by side. “Damn good,” I say, leaning into him. “I’m amazed.”

And really, we do look pretty awesome. It’s Halloween, and we’re going to a party at The Bison, so of course, costumes are required. Not by the people throwing the party, but by me — Halloween is my favorite holiday, after all.

I didn’t exactly have a closet of costumes to choose from this year, or the money to invest in a new one, so with Xander’s consent I put together a couple’s costume from what we had.

I survey the results with satisfaction. I’m wearing a little black dress, my hair knotted in a coiffed updo. He’s in a crisp suit and tie, and together we’re Holly Golightly and Paul Varjak fromBreakfast at Tiffany’s, which we both love.

I trail light fingers across my collarbone, then finger the glittering earrings dangling from my ears. “I didn’t have a pearl necklace like Holly’s,” I say with regret. “I tried to make up for it with the earrings, but I don’t think it quite works.”

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