He claims me with a hunger that scorches through the thin air, determined, unyielding, tasting of coffee and raw need.
He kisses me like he’s stealing breath from my lungs. Then he fiercely holds onto my hips, pinning me harder against the tree’s rough bark.
Around us, the wind howls, whipping through the pines, but his body shields me, a wall of heat and muscle that makes the world narrow to just this—his cock thrusting deep inside my pussy, filling me completely, stretching me with every powerful stroke.
I moan into his mouth as he pushes me harder into the tree. I dig my hands into his shoulders, seeking more.
In response, he growls, the sound vibrating through me, low and primal, as he drives harder, faster, his rhythm relentless.
He grips my ass tight, holding me in place, his touch bruising and possessive.
Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure/pain radiating through my core, my clit grinding against him with every movement. The cold bites at my exposed skin, but it only heightens the fire building inside me, the contrast making every sensation sharper, more intoxicating.
“What you fucking do to me, Allie.” His teeth graze the sensitive spot below my ear. “You scare the shit out of me.”
Same.
I’ve cracked safes, dodged law enforcement and bullets, but this—letting him strip me bare, emotionally and physically—is a risk I never saw coming.
And now I’m lost in him, in the way he fucks me like he’s demanding every inch of my soul. The firepit’s warmth licks at my skin, but it’s his heat, his need, that keeps me from shivering.
My climax begins to build, a relentless, overwhelming sensation, and my mind swirls, not just from pleasure but from the weight of it—of him, this moment, and the life I can’t possibly keep.
“You take my cock so perfectly. Like you were made for this.”
His words ignite me, and I arch into him, my pussy clenching around his thick length as the pressure coils more tightly, unbearable. He shifts one hand between us, his thumb finding my clit, circling it with rough precision that makes my vision blur.
“Stryker!” I gasp as the orgasm crashes over me without warning, a tidal wave of physical pleasure that rips a cry from my throat. My body shudders as waves of ecstasy pulse through me.
He follows seconds later, his thrusts erratic, a guttural groan escaping as he buries himself deep, his release flooding the condom in hot pulses.
We stay like that, tangled and breathless, his forehead pressed to mine as the wind tugs at our clothes. His arms hold me steady, protective, and for a heartbeat, I let myself sink into it—the illusion of safety in his strength. But reality creeps back in, cold as the air nipping at my thighs. I can’t afford this.
He pulls back, his eyes searching mine, and his voice is low, a promise that makes my heart flutter. “Told you I’d keep you warm.”
I manage a breathless laugh, but it’s edged with something sharper—regret, maybe, or the fear that this is all I’ll ever have of him. “You’re impossible.”
“And when we’re back inside, I’m going to make you beg in ways you haven’t even dreamed of.”
How much more of this—of him—can I take?
He eases me down, steadying me on my feet before tugging up my pants, his fingers lingering just long enough to make my pulse stutter again.
Then he adjusts himself, buttoning his flannel with casual efficiency, like we didn’t just fuck against a tree in the middle of a brewing storm.
“Are you ready?”
Am I?
But the sultry dance through his question and the way his eyes darken ignite a new heat in me, a longing for more, for him, for this dangerous, impossible thing between us. “Oh?”
“No time like the present.”
He sweeps his gaze over me, and the approval in his eyes makes me melt.
“Ready to learn about mirroring?”
Chapter Nineteen
