“Gorgeous,” he says, and leans in to reclaim my mouth.
As his lips move against mine with the confidence he’s so quickly gained, he strokes his hands over me. They linger on my breasts with gentle circles that draw another whimper from my throat.
He’s no less committed to his studies of this part of my body. As we kiss and kiss again until every inch of my skin feels flushed, he tests the heel of his hand, his knuckles, and his fingertips against my nipples. When he squeezes one, the moan I let out at the pulse of pleasure has him smiling triumphantly.
The knot of need at my core throbs harder. I rock on my seat of flowering vines, pressing into Byron’s groin.
He swears under his breath. His breath feathers my jaw. “I want to watch you this time. I want to see just how good I’m making you feel.”
At my desperate nod, he delves his hand between us. A quick yank brings my pleated skirt up to my hips, baring my thighs and the crotch of my panties.
Byron teases his thumb over the already damp fabric. I exhale shakily through the rush of pleasure.
He strokes me again and again—harder, softer, faster, slower. Charting every hitch of my breath, every mewling sound that slips from my mouth.
Now and then he presses a kiss to my neck or my shoulder as if he can’t resist a taste of me, but mostly his gaze remains trained on my face.
When my rocking motions press toward him more urgently, an eager gleam dances in his eyes. He flicks his thumb over my clit just the way he’s discovered I respond to most and nudges aside my now-drenched panties to dip a finger right inside me.
A sharper surge of bliss careens through me. My head tipsback against the tree trunk with a mumbled “Fuck. Just like that. Just…”
My voice cuts off with a deeper thrust of his finger, my words lost in a moan. Byron strums my clit and pumps a little faster, but I have no capacity left for experimenting. With a jerk of my hips, I shatter around his hand.
My vision hazes with my release. Byron presses closer, letting me tremble against him as my limbs go slack.
I reach up to grasp his hair again, insistent this time. “Not enough. I want all of you.”
“Fuck, yes.” He wrenches at his slacks so hard I’m surprised they don’t tear and drags my panties right off me. He pauses just long enough to summon a protective layer of ephemera he couldn’t know is unnecessary.
Then he’s pushing inside me, patience frayed, need consuming both of us.
I wrap my legs right around him and hold on tight. As he slams home, I buck to meet him.
Our frantic joining rustles the leaves of the vines and sends fresh wafts of floral perfume into the air. Those sensations fade into the distance amid the smack of our forms colliding, the hard length of him filling me right where I need it, the searing heat of his body all around me.
“Blazes.” Byron’s voice fractures around a groan. “Feels so good.Youfeel so good. I don’t know how long?—”
It’s his first time. I almost forgot.
I wrap my arms around him and bow into his thrusts. “Give me everything you’ve got.”
He tips his head next to mine. His teeth nick my shoulder. I press into him even more forcefully, seeking the perfect friction against my clit.
My second orgasm rolls over me in time with the stiffening of Byron’s body and his final, shuddering thrusts inside me. My vision whites out for an instant amid the ecstatic rush. Delicious heat sings through every nerve.
Byron rocks to a halt, still holding me to him. The forest air cools the sweat that’s formed on our skin.
His voice reaches me with the finality of a promise. “My match. I’m not letting you go.”
I hug him tight and squeeze my eyes against a sudden burn of tears.
Please, to any gods who might exist, may he never have to.
Twenty-One
Elodie
The cherry blossom tree down the block from Cole and Asher’s house is in full bloom now. As I pass by, the flowers’ delicately sweet scent fills my lungs.
