Page 61 of Beacon

Things are different now. And that makes me a little sad and nostalgic for what I’ve lost with him. But it also makes me feel better.

That I don’t always need to be carried anymore.

The afternoon passes quickly but pleasantly with a lot of activity. We help with chores around the farm for a couple of hours. A number of other volunteers start trickling in tothe farm from nearby areas, and Maria and her crew arrive by midafternoon.

They camp in a pasture of the Carlsons’ farm, and Mack and I hang out with them over dinner. They explain that Cal and Rachel will be arriving tomorrow morning with the folks they were able to recruit to join the effort.

I enjoy reconnecting with so many of my friends, and even Mack appears fairly relaxed. He knew many of these women well. He worked and fought with them countless times. No one questions his choices or brings up difficult topics, so the time passes easily as we sit around a large campfire until the sun goes down.

Eventually it’s time for bed, so Mack and I walk back to the farmhouse. We don’t say much, but he reaches over to squeeze my hand at one point. I’m not sure why, but I don’t let his go, so we’re holding hands for the rest of the walk back.

By the time we reach our pretty guestroom, I’m feeling closer to him than I’ve ever felt to anyone in my entire life. And I’m also holding back tears because it feels so much like I’m about to lose him.

He’ll leave in the morning, and I’ll risk my life in this attack. There’s a chance we’ll never see each other again, and even if we do, it won’t be like it’s been in these past two months.

Tonight might be our last.

Maybe Mack is experiencing something similar. He’s subdued when he finally releases my hand as we stand inour bedroom. They don’t have showers here. They have to pump water manually to fill tubs, and most of the time they use a basin and pitcher of water in rooms to wash up the way they do at New Haven.

We get as clean as we can and get ready for bed. I change into a simple knit nightgown while Mack takes off all his clothes. We switch off the lantern on the bedside table and climb into bed.

Mack still hasn’t said anything as he pulls me closer and rolls on top. He stares down at me in the dark for a minute before he finally lowers his head so he can kiss me.

I kiss him back, wrapping my arms around him and softening my lips. He slides his tongue into my mouth.

As our kiss deepens, I move my hands over his body, stroking his smooth scalp, caressing my way down his back, running my fingers over his large frame, his developed muscles, his tight skin. Every part of him is big and strong and solid and warm. Every part of him is perfect for me, exactly what I want to feel under my hands.

We kiss for a really long time. His body slowly tenses up, and eventually his erection is poking into me. But he doesn’t rush to the main event. He seems to need this—this intimate, needy kiss—as much as anything else.

I need it too.

I’m hotly aroused and filled with so much more in my heart when he finally breaks his mouth away, gasping and ducking his head to suck on the pulse in my throat.

“Mack!” His name on my lips is a whispered gasp.

He makes a guttural sound as he pushes up my nightgown so he can get his mouth on my breasts. He teases and sucks until I’m squirming. I hold on to his head until I can’t take any more. “Mack!” I’m still keeping my voice soft so no one can hear us through the walls. We aren’t in our little cabin right now where it doesn’t matter how loud we get.

He keeps moving down my body, his mouth greedy and intentional. When he nuzzles between my legs and pries my thighs apart, I gasp and then gasp again when I feel his tongue.

He brings me to a quick climax with his mouth, but then I pull him up so I can kiss him again. Now he’s making quiet, hungry sounds into the kiss. His hips are rocking against my groin.

He’s urgent. Needy. I love how shamelessly aroused he is, like he finally, finally knows he doesn’t have to be so guarded and restrained with me.

I’m pretty far gone too. I can’t hold still. I wriggle and clutch at him, digging my fingernails into the firm flesh of his shoulders and his ass. My entire body pulses with bone-deep need, and Mack is the only thing that can possibly slake it.

“Mack,” I choke out, at last turning my head away from the kiss so I can suck more air into my lungs.

With a thick, wordless sound, he raises his upper bodyto stare down at me. Then he adjusts more of his weight onto his knees.

Since I can now reach between our bodies, I slide one hand down to wrap around his hard cock.

He huffs when I squeeze him, jerking his head to the side, but he doesn’t let me play with him too long tonight. He draws my hand back up and places it on his shoulder. Then he takes his cock in his own hand and moves it into position at my entrance.

I bend up my knees and part my legs even more. I moan quietly as he edges himself inside me, my pussy stretching and softening around him.

He kisses me again once he’s all the way inside. Then he begins to thrust with a fast, hungry rhythm. It’s not gentle or tender or leisurely or sweet, despite the fact that we’re in regular missionary position. It’s demanding and urgent and almost desperate, and it perfectly matches my mood. I claw at his back and butt and pump my hips up to eagerly meet his thrusts. The bed jiggles softly, and we’re both breathing heavily, but there’s not much chance it will be heard outside this room.

But Mack is giving everything to me right now—everything he is, everything he has, holding nothing back—and it’s overwhelming. It fills my heart and my body both. Fills me so deeply that I’m almost scared I can’t take it, can’t hold it, can’t handle it all.

---