Page 100 of Rebellious Reign

“I thought you hated me.”

“I hated what you did to me. I hated that you thought you had to take that on by yourself instead of coming to me about it.”

“I was scared.”

“Of me?” he asks, sitting up. He drapes his arms over both knees as he continues to stare me down.

“Of you forcing me out.”

“You went anyway.” The way he says things is so matter-of-fact that I can’t read him.

“I—”

Suddenly, he’s standing in front of me, his hands cradling my face as he tilts my head up to look at him.

“I was waiting for you to come home, Little Bird.”

I have nothing to say to that. My need takes over, and I push up, dropping my plastic sack to the ground. Our lips meet in a heated press. I let everything I’m thinking come out in my touch, raking my hands up his neck, through the strands of his hair. His are equally as feverish, caressing, touching, teasing me. He reaches for the hem of my shirt, and I raise my arms, only moving from his mouth to let him pull the shirt over my head, and then I’m back on him.

I’ve missed this. I’ve missed him. I drink in his scent and the way his body is pinned to mine. The cool night air causes my skin to pebble, my nipples following. Then, his hands are on them, pushing the cups of my bra down so that he can suck one into his mouth. I moan.

He gently lowers me to the blanket, and I reach to pull his shirt off. The sight of him shirtless takes my breath away. I have chosen not to think about his body. The way his muscles ripple. The strength and grace with which he moves. But now, in the moonlight, I drink him in. I let my fingers trail the ridges and valleys of his abs, memorizing them again. Then, I’m hooking them beneath the waistband of his pants and tug.

We are a flurry of clothing as we rush to see who can get undressed first, and then he’s lifting my hips and driving inside me with such need that my back arches. He doesn’t let up, pushing into me as if he can remove all the tension and hurt between us.

He’s melting the last few months away as he murmurs to me, “I’ve fucking missed this pussy.”

He grips my ass, pulling me into him.

“Such a good girl.”

I think I might die.

“You belong to me, Little Bird.”

I scream out into the night air as an orgasm overtakes me. My head thrown back with my eyes closed, I writhe against him in ecstasy. He doesn’t let up.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he says, grunting with each thrust as I finally open my eyes.

“I’m yours,” I say.

He comes down hard on his hands. They land on either side of my head as he stares at me, his face full of pure bliss as he comes, moaning out my name.

As he collapses to the side, he pulls me on top of him, both of us still connected as he smooths my hair from my face. He lays soft kisses against my shoulders, then my cheeks, and finally my lips. I sigh in contentment.

We lie there for a while until he slides out of me, his cum leaking between us.

“I didn’t use a condom,” he says.

I shrug, unwilling to worry about it right now. I’m happy, and I don’t want to ruin it with any serious talks. He kisses my nose. I trace fingertips along his eyebrows, then nuzzle into his neck.

I want to stay here forever.

“Did you bring snacks?” he asks, eyeing the dropped sack on the edge of our makeshift bed.

I glance over at it before smiling down at him.

“Beer and chips with salsa. What every picnic needs.”

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