"Wait." She shifted beneath him, guiding him to lie on his back, then straddled his waist. The position felt strange at first—exposed, dominant—and she hesitated.
His hands came to rest on her hips, not guiding, just holding. "Whatever you want, little flower. Take what you need."
She looked down at him—his eyes dark with desire, his face open and waiting. No demands. No expectations. Just invitation.
She rose up on her knees, positioned him at her entrance, and sank down slowly. The sensation was more intense than she'd anticipated, and she had to pause, breathing through the fullness, adjusting to the size of him.
"You feel incredible," he whispered, his hands flexing slightly on her hips. "Perfect. So perfect."
She began to move, finding a rhythm that was hers, not his. The control was intoxicating, the ability to set the pace, to take what she needed. His hands stayed on her hips, guiding but not directing, and when her pace faltered, he moved with her, meeting her thrust for thrust.
"You're so beautiful," he said, his voice strained. "Riding me like this. Taking what you want. So brave and strong and—gods, Marigold?—"
She leaned forward, bracing herself on his chest, and the change in angle sent sparks of pleasure shooting through her. His hands slid up her back, one tangling in her hair to bring her mouth down to his. The kiss was messy and desperate, all tongues and teeth and need.
His other hand slid between them to find her clit, circling with just the right pressure, and suddenly the pleasure was cresting, overwhelming, crashing over her in waves that left her trembling and crying out his name.
He followed her moments later with a rough shout, his body tensing beneath her as he filled her completely.
Afterwards, she collapsed against his chest, their bodies still joined, both of them breathing hard. His arms came around her, holding her close, one hand stroking up and down her spine in long, soothing passes.
"That was—" she started.
"Amazing. Incredible. Life-changing."
She laughed weakly against his shoulder. "I was going to say 'intense,' but I like your words better."
"I mean every one of them." He kissed the top of her head. "Did you know you could do that? Take control like that?"
"No." She shook her head. "I've never…" She trailed off, not wanting to think about past experiences, not now.
"They were fools." His voice was certain. "Anyone who wouldn't give you this, wouldn't let you explore and discover and take what you need, doesn't deserve you."
"Then I'm glad I found you."
"Even if it means dealing with your mother?"
She winced. "She's going to be furious. And she's going to cry."
"Let her. It's about time you set some boundaries. Give her some time to cool off."
He pulled her down next to him and tucked her against his chest. His hand traced lazy patterns on her bare back, and she felt boneless and content and utterly at peace.
"Stay," he murmured into her hair. "Tonight. Please."
"Yes."
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. Then another to her temple. Then the corner of her mouth.
"Thank you," he said softly.
"For what?"
"For choosing me too."
She smiled against his skin. Outside, the night deepened around the cabin, but inside, in the circle of his arms, she felt nothing but warm.
CHAPTER 21
