Page 69 of Charlie

"I think it's time for bed," he murmurs against my lips as the song ends, breaking away from me to extinguish the fire. I help him tidy up, my heart in my throat the entire time. Effervescent anticipation sparks through me, snuffing out everything except the feel of his hands, the smell of his skin, the timbre of his voice.

"Go," he says, smacking my ass and motioning for me to climb up into the tent.

I scramble up the ladder, twisting to face Jack as he prowls after me. He looks feral, his eyes glowing in the lantern light, the rest of his face cast in shadow. I yelp when he doesn't stop, pushing me back until I'm against the side of the tent. He sits on his heels and pulls me onto his lap, nesting my heat over his hard length.

"Fuck. You are going to be the death of me," he grinds out, restraint etched in the lines of his face.

The tension from today – from every day – is compressed like a spring inside of me, just waiting to be released. I rock against him, desperate for relief. I moan as stars explode behind my eyelids.

He grips my jaw, forcing me to look at him. "There you are, my beautiful selkie," he murmurs, rolling his hips against me. He flips me around and lays on his back, straddling my legs over his hips. I moan as he pulls me down slowly, the head of his cock pressing against my clit.

There are way too many layers of clothes between us.

I want him inside me. Now.

I lean forward and clutch his shoulders, his muscles bunching under my fingers as I ride him. I look down to where we're pressed together. The tie on his shorts is barely hanging on, creating a gap between his abdomen and waistband. His cock is right there. I slide down, taking his shorts with me, the head of his cock peeking out. Wide and smooth and perfect.

God. I don't think I've ever wanted something so badly.

I push his shirt up his chest. If I'm getting there – and I am – he is too. I have a score to even up. I look at him through my eyelashes, trying to control my breathing.

"Charlotte," he groans, protesting. I tilt my pelvis, dragging my clit over him, shuddering as it catches on the ridge. "Fuck," his voice trembles.

"Don't you dare tell me to stop."

"Don't. Fucking. Stop," he grinds out, arching underneath me as I rock back.

He grips my hips, pulling me forward and pushing me back the entire length of his shaft.

"Oh God," I moan, looking between us, at the drop of pre-cum just begging to be tasted.

"Look at me. Now." He grips my jaw, forcing me to meet his gaze.

My heartbeat ratchets up even higher, the command in his voice calling to something deep inside me. His gaze is hooded, smoky whisky eyes ensnaring me. He groans in frustration, jerking his hips against mine. "These need to go." He reaches between us and rips open the entire crotch seam of my leggings. He holds my hips still, breathing hard, a fraction of an inch between us.

"We are not fucking tonight, Sassenach. Don't even try. I just need to feel you on me." He settles me over his length, steel sliding against silk. I swear, moaning his name as I undulate my hips, rolling my clit back and forth over him.

Just another half an inch and he'll be in me. I clench around nothing. I close my eyes and whimper, struggling for restraint, wanting nothing more than to impale myself on him.

"Open your eyes."

I do.

"What do you need?" He asks, his arms shaking with each push and pull, his control close to snapping.

"I need to feel you in me." I arch my back as his head catches on my entrance, then slides past, leaving me desperate to be filled. He reaches around my thighs and pushes two fingers inside me as I slide back. My body bows, a low-keening moan coming from deep in my chest. His thumb circles the sensitive skin of my back entrance and I lose it. I push upright and hold his hand against me, riding his fingers and the length of his cock, angling my hips so my clit stays under constant pressure.

Fuck. Yes.

He pushes up to a sitting position as I start to come, gripping my ass cheeks and pumping himself through my folds. "You're so pretty when you come for me," he groans into my neck, punctuating each word with a thrust. We shudder against each other, the flames of ecstasy consuming us until we're nothing but ashes.

37

Light filters through the tent, bathing the interior in a golden glow. Jack had thrown his arm over my waist in the night, my back snug against his chest, one leg nudged between mine. I bask in the effervescent euphoria bubbling under my skin, taking a moment to appreciate the peace blanketing my heart. I carefully extricate myself from his limbs and climb down the ladder, the chilly air making me extra thankful for the emergency pair of joggers I packed yesterday. I rummage around in the cooler and pull out bread, eggs, bacon, and cheese.

Having the chance to cook him a meal gives me the warm fuzzies – he's taken such good care of me and has never given me a chance to reciprocate. I'm just finishing cooking the bacon and eggs when I hear Jack waking up. He yawns and then pokes his head out of the tent.

"Good morning, mo chridhe," he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep. He's adorably rumpled, and I can't help but melt into him the second his feet are on solid ground. I breathe him in, my cheek pressed to his chest. He kisses my head, not letting go until I'm the one that pulls away to check on the toast.

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