Lightning flashes, briefly painting the room in stark relief—the arch of my spine, the tension in his jaw, the thin sheen of sweat where our bodies meet. In that flash of illumination, I see his face with perfect clarity with a raw need that matches my own.
Bradley rises suddenly, sitting up beneath me without breaking our connection. The new angle draws a cry from my throat as he hits something exquisite inside me. His arms wrap around my back, one hand tangling in my hair, the other splayed across my lower back, supporting me as we move together.
In this position, we're chest to chest, face to face, breath mingling in the narrow space between us. I can feel his heartbeat against mine, racing just as fast. My arms encircle his shoulders, using the leverage to lift and lower myself while his hips thrust upward, creating a rhythm that's becoming increasingly desperate.
"You feel incredible," he murmurs against my neck, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control. "So good around me."
I'm close, so close, but not quite there.
Bradley seems to sense this, his hand sliding between us to find where we're connected. His thumb circles my clit with perfect pressure, and suddenly I'm there, crying out as pleasure crashes through me. My inner muscles pulse around him, drawing a groan from deep in his chest.
Before the waves of my orgasm have fully subsided, Bradley moves again.
In one fluid motion, he lifts me, turns, and lays me on my back at the edge of the bed. He stands between my legs, hands gripping my thighs, pulling me toward him until I'm positioned perfectly. When he enters me again, it's with a single deep thrust that makes us both gasp.
This angle is different, deeper somehow. I can see the flex of muscles in his arms as he holds my legs, the concentration on his face, the way his eyes never leave mine even as his body moves with increasing urgency. One of his hands slides beneath my lower back, tilting my hips upward, changing the angle just enough that each thrust hits that perfect spot inside me.
"Right there," I breathe, reaching up to brace my hands against the edge of the bed above my head. "Don't stop."
His rhythm increases, each thrust drawing sounds from me that I couldn't suppress if I tried.
I'm building toward something bigger than before, a pleasure so intense it borders on overwhelming. When his thumb finds my clit again, circling in time with his thrusts, I shatter completely, my back arching off the bed as waves of ecstasy pulse through every nerve.
Bradley follows moments later, his rhythm faltering as he reaches his own release. I feel the hot pulse of him inside me.
He lowers himself, bracing on his forearms to keep his weight off me while remaining connected. His forehead presses against mine as we both struggle to catch our breath. I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his shoulders, holding him close, unwilling to let this moment end.
Eventually, reluctantly, he withdraws, but immediately gathers me into his arms, lifting me fully onto the bed before stretching out beside me. We lie facing each other on the narrow mattress, legs tangled. My palm rests over his heart, feeling its gradual return to normal rhythm.
Bradley reaches down, pulling a fire blanket from a nearby chair to cover our cooling bodies. The material is rough against my sensitized skin, but his touch beneath it remains gentle, exploratory, as if he's still learning the landscape of me.
"If the Chief walks in," he murmurs against my hair, his voice drowsy with satisfaction, "I'm claiming heat preservation measures."
Laughter bubbles up from my chest, unexpected and free.
"Very professional," I tease, pressing a kiss to his collarbone, tasting the salt of his skin.
His arms tighten around me, and I feel him smile against my temple. "I excel at emergency protocols."
"I noticed," I murmur, snuggling closer as my eyes grow heavy.
Chapter 6 – Bradley
A sudden click and flicker makes us both look up. The emergency lights steady, then brighten slightly.
"Power surge," I murmur, tracing idle patterns on her bare shoulder. "Generator compensating."
Denise shifts, tilting her head to look at me. Her hair is a wild tangle from my hands, her lips still flushed. "Always the engineer," she says, but there's affection in her voice, not criticism.
"Force of habit," I admit. "Always tracking the systems."
"Is there anything you don't keep track of? Weather patterns, generator cycles, rescue protocols..."
"Food," I say with a small smile. "No idea what we've got downstairs for the crew when they get back."
She reaches up to press a soft kiss to my lips. When she pulls back, I find myself following, chasing the contact for one more second. Her smile widens, something knowing in her eyes.
"What are you thinking?" she asks, fingers tracing the edge of my jaw where stubble has roughened the skin.
