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“Not there.” He held her hips and guided her forward. “Here.”

She gasped as he positioned her over his mouth. “Won’t I smother you?”

“Then I’d be a ghost.” He squeezed her backside, caressing the globes and spreading them. “The happiest ghost in the place.”

Her laugh dissolved into a moan as he lifted his head and licked a hot stripe down her center, lingering at her swollen clitoris. “God, Phineas, it’s⁠—”

She broke off when he sucked the bud into his mouth and flicked it again. “Not Valebrook?” he murmured. He wanted to tease her until she broke, let him see past her defenses to the heart of her, where she was soft and vulnerable, where she was healing. He wanted that part of her to be safe with him, to care for and nurture it.

She groaned, her thighs shuddering around his ears. “I can’t—you’re making me—” Another groan as he speared her channel with his tongue, fucking her as best he could. He was rewarded with a flush of her arousal, her taste biting and crisp. “You’re making me lose myself.”

He hummed his satisfaction, but said nothing. Let her have the final word for once. His mouth could do far more than fire off a retort and send them back into their spiral of defensive maneuvers.

She needed some time to relax, but soon she was rocking against him, grinding into his lips and chin as she chased her pleasure. He could only respond to her body’s requests, giving her the pleasure she needed. His lower back protested; a man of his age shouldn’t toss around a young woman and urge her to ride him to climax, but he didn’t care. He’d wait for her to come, take an aspirin powder, and pull her cunt down on his mouth again.

He gripped her hips so tightly he was certain she’d wear bruises afterward, but he couldn’t let her go. He couldn’t see anything, just felt the writhing of her body, the slap of her palm against the wall and the scratch of her nails on the headboard.

When she stiffened and fought against his hold, he sucked the center of her pleasure and she shattered, crying out his name—Phineas, his given name, the name no one else used, not even his late wife. A part of him belonging to her alone.

After a long moment, she slumped to the side, releasing the headboard and shimmying down his body. She settled on his chest, warm and loose, her slowing breaths stirring the hair between his pectorals.

He couldn’t stop touching her, savoring every place her sweat-damp skin was flush against him. He needed several minutes to gather enough control of himself to roll her onto her back and settle himself into the cradle of her thighs.

Her legs fell open, a lazy smile curling on her lips, as he notched himself at her entrance. “You’re insatiable.”

“Far from it.” An animal grunt tore from his throat as the head of his cock breached her, engulfing him in her velvety heat. “I’m an old man. You deserve someone younger…” He rocked himself deeper. “More vigorous.”

Her fingernails dug into his hip as she arched into him, taking more of his length. “Anything more vigorous might split me in two.”

She was so wet, so welcoming after her earlier release that he pushed the rest of the way into her with ease, and her resulting moan of pleasure rumbled around him. He couldn’t stop himself from kissing her, the gliding of his tongue against hers a mirror of the thrust of his cock. He wouldn’t last long, not after the satisfaction of eating her, feeling her fall apart on his mouth. Maybe he was a selfish bastard, but he wanted her to come again, screaming his name, to prove he wasn’t her enemy.

“God, Phineas…” She buried her face in his neck, scraped her teeth down the straining muscles. “Why is this so good?”

He thrust harder, deeper. The headboard banged against the wall. “I don’t know,” he rasped, burying his head in her hair. “I don’t want it to stop.”

“Don’t stop.” She lifted her hips, meeting him stroke for stroke. “I never want this to end.”

“Never.”

But the end was bearing down on him. “I need you to get there, Bridget. I know you can do it.”

She groaned, clawing at his back. He’d be scratched to bits after this, and he’d relish every sting, stare at the marks in the mirror while he stroked his cock, remembering the incredible night he’d shared with this woman.

He brought one hand to her breast, pinched the peaked nipple and twisted, sharply enough to pull a gasp from her, and she was clenching, strangling his length as she came. He couldn’t hold on for a moment longer and pulled himself free as he began to erupt. His cum spilled over her mound, streaking the swollen pink flesh of her glistening cunt, as he pulsed again and again. It was crude and filthy, but the sight of her, debauched and ruined by his release, had him wanting to crow, to shout from the rooftops that this woman was his, that he had done this. That he would keep her and care for her and bring her pleasure for as long as he lived.

I never want this to end.

But it had to. The new day had compromised their sanctuary from the outside world, and they’d have to decide what came next.

He managed to stumble from the bed and find a handkerchief to—reluctantly—wipe his seed from her skin, then curled himself around her. She sighed happily and rolled towards him, propping her head on his shoulder.

“I don’t like when you call yourself old.”

He scoffed. “It’s the truth.”

“You’ve lived,” she said. “You’ve experienced things I’ve only imagined. Travel, friendships, marriage. All I’ve done is hide on this cliff and think about death. I haven’t lived at all.” Her lips brushed his chest as she spoke, delicate, unintentional kisses.

“I’ve experienced things you haven’t, but… I haven’t really lived, either.” He tipped her chin up to meet her gaze and pressed a kiss to the space between her brows. “Not until I met you.”