Page 67 of Kindling
“Do you want that now?” He squeezed her full breasts through her clothes. He’d never been gladder for the six-foot fence surrounding them, nor the seclusion his cabin brought. In this corner of the world, nobody would stumble across them. They were free.
Her head bobbed against his shoulder, a nod. “Yes.” She gulped. “I’m on the pill, and I was tested a couple of months ago. You don’t need a condom if you’re safe, too.”
“I am. Got tested after the last time I was with someone. But if it gets uncomfortable…”
“Then I’ll tell you,” she assured, placing a gentle kiss on his chin.
Then, she guided his hand down, over her stomach, under the waistband of her leggings.
“You’ll be the death of me.” He slid his hand quickly between her legs, finding her perfectly wet and ready. When he stroked her, she jolted against him, and he held her steady as he dipped his finger inside, curling towards her G-spot. “Will you be a good lass and tell me something?”
She moaned, fingers lacing through his hair. “Fuck, Fraser.”
“Have you been using your little toy this weekend?” he asked, voice hoarse with desire. Imagining her, spread wide onhisbed, inhiscabin, as she pleasured herself. “Have you been thinking of me while you play with it?”
She nodded, rocking against him now. “Yes.”
“I’ve been thinking of you, too.” The confession made him feel vulnerable, but powerful at the same time. “In the middle of the night, I imagine your pretty mouth around my cock. In the shower, I shout out your fucking name.” He thrust another finger inside her, moving quicker now.
“Oh, god.” She turned her face away from him, moaning, but he needed to see her. He tipped her chin back, swallowing more pleas from her mouth with a frenzied kiss.
Her impatient ruts brushed his cock, each harder than the last, and it was an effort to keep going, to not throw her over the block now and have done with it.
But he wanted this first. He wanted her to come around his fingers so that the next orgasm would feel even better for her.
He got his wish, her walls clenching around him all at once as her erratic breaths ripped through the clearing. She buckled against him, trembling when he brushed her clit with the lightest of touches.
When she’d steadied herself, he wrapped her hair around his fist with his free hand and tasted her on his soaked fingers with the other. She didn’t need to be told what came next. Together, they grappled to undo his belt and roll down her leggings. She didn’t bother to step out of them, nor him from his jeans, too rushed, too needy, to waste any time.
Harper bent over the chopping block finally, her bare ass dimpled and perfect in front of him. He swore again. Gulped. Traced his fingers over her swollen pussy until she was panting.
“Are you sure?” he asked gently.
“Do Ilookunsure?” She wiggled to prove her point, and a rich, belly-deep laugh erupted from him.
“You look like a fucking Aphrodite sculpture,” he said, lining himself up. When his tip brushed her, she whined. He wanted that sound recorded, wanted to hear it night and day. “You talk about my art? Your body is art, Harp, and you can’t even imagine all the ways I want to worship it.”
He entered her before she could reply, mouth opening in a silent, stolen shout of pleasure as she stretched around him. Feeling her wetness, her heat, without barriers felt so intensely good that he had to bite his lip to keep from groaning.
Her knuckles turned white at the edge of the block, back arching as he sank deeper, deeper, until she was taking all of his length.
“Go hard. Fast,” she begged.
His fingers dug into her hips, and he obeyed. The sound of their skin slapping together filled his ears as he thrust into her again and again. He would never get tired, would give her everything she needed for as long as she needed it. He felt like he was floating somewhere outside his body, like bliss had been given a physical form in the shape of Harper, and it carried him now somewhere higher, where nothing else could touch him but her.
“Good?” he asked, panting. “Tell me it feels good.”
“Sogood.”
He clamped her hips against his, burying himself until it felt as though they were merging together completely. When he found her clit, running dogged circles over it, she let out a hoarse cry.
“Fraser!” she sobbed. She chased her orgasm wildly and hurriedly, and then that knot in his stomach was unravelling, his seed spilling into her until they were slippery and spent. Until he wasn’t sure he was even still here. His body felt too weightless, too exhilarated, to be real.
He caught her before she could collapse against the chopping block, his arms folding around her stomach as he steadied his breath against her shoulder.
“I’m not done with you yet,” he said.
“Oh?”
