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“Thank you,” the words said so softly that I almost didn’t hear them.
His head was thrown back, eyes shut, the look of pure ecstasy on his face. I felt a surge of triumph when he moaned; this was a man quiet in passion. All of a sudden, he gripped both my arms and hauled me up like I weighed nothing.
“I have to be inside of you,” he demanded, breathing roughly. Then punished me with a bruising kiss. For what? For taking away his control? I nipped his bottom lip and drew blood. Startled, he pulled back, wiped the blood off with his thumb and inspected it. His expression transformed instantly. A predatory smile split his face and the air around him crackled with a charge. I stepped back, aware that I may have unleashed something I was too inexperienced to handle.
I felt the cool scrape of rock on the backs of my legs, my shoulder blades grinding into the rough surface as I lay back. Bracing his weight on his muscular arms, he bent over and kissed me passionately, lifted my hips to his and positioned himself. The anticipation was exhilarating. I wrapped my legs around his waist, mooring myself to him. Before I could feel his invasion, he paused and looked into my eyes with an expression I didn’t understand, couldn’t fathom. The moment expanded, filled with meaning. His gaze held mine as he sank into me, the thick slide of his manhood filling me until I couldn’t take any more.
“Jesus Christ…you have to get used to me,” he said, a trail of slurred words I could barely understand.
My body yielded slowly to his, unaccustomed from the long stretch of abstinence, though it felt excruciatingly good––every inch of him. He teased me mercilessly, rocking deeper each time, withdrawing almost all the way. I grabbed his rear end, my short fingernails digging into his smooth skin, and pulled him closer. He shook his head, denying me. Then, just as I was on the verge of shedding tears of frustration, he hauled me up onto my feet and turned me around.
“Put your damn hands on that rock and don’t move them.”
There was a hard edge to his voice that made my spine tingle in excitement. His warm body cradled me from behind, and his possessive hands held me closely. Reaching around, he sifted through the soft patch of curls, and touched me where I was aching for him. I came undone in his hands, my body no longer my own.
“Is this what you want?” The question didn’t necessitate a reply. He thrust his hips quickly and held steady, ripping a scream of satisfaction from my throat. My long hair wrapped around his hand, he pulled my head back until I could feel the warmth of his breath near my ear. “Is it?” he repeated in a seductive whisper, then licked my throat and sank his teeth into the curve of my neck.
“Yes!”
Withdrawing all the way, he entered me slowly this time. The pads of his skilled fingers stroked me with certainty, with dexterity that comes from experience. Even in my present state, something I didn’t fail to notice. I was bunched up, desperate for release, but he kept it from me, just out of reach. And then his whispered words reached through the drift of pleasure.
“You can come now, Vera.”
Knowing what I needed better than I did, he drove his powerful body into me hard and deep, buried to the root. It shattered me, the orgasm so intense I blinked repeatedly in an effort to push back tears. On a harsh exhale, he dug his fingers into my hips and pulled out, his come spilling onto my lower back.
I was listless in his arms while he held me tightly, both of us quiet. Only the sound of our heavy breathing filled the air. He kissed the side of my neck and placed his cheek on my shoulder. I leaned back into him replete––and more at peace than I could ever remember feeling.
We stood like that for a long time, until he turned me around and searched my eyes with a seriousness that made me uneasy. What was he looking for? Signs of distress? I was too emotionally and physically drained to think straight.
“Come on.” Another demand, although his voice had softened. Taking my hand, he pulled me into the lake and proceeded to wash the evidence of his lovemaking off of me with such tenderness I could hardly breathe, a heavy weight suddenly sitting on my chest. I felt him trace the rough scratches the rock had inflicted on my back. “Does it hurt?” he murmured.
“No,” I answered, meeting his gaze over my shoulder. “It feels good.” Because it did. I felt alive, anchored in my body.
“You’re coming back to my room.”
