Page 47
“You weren’t.”
“I sent you away.”
“You came back.”
“I’ll never forgive myself for—”
I kiss him.
Samuel freezes. Then his hands lock around my waist, and he pulls me against him. The kiss is hard, deep, and desperate. It holds everything we almost lost inside it. Every gunshot. Every regret. Every wasted year.
His beard scratches my skin as he angles his mouth over mine. I welcome the roughness. I need it. I need proof that he’s real and that we survived.
Samuel lifts me. My legs wrap around his waist. He carries me through the doorway without breaking the kiss and kicks it shut behind us. I feel the solid weight of Samuel’s arms around me as he kicks the cabin door shut behind us. The air inside is warmer, thick with the scent of woodsmoke. He carries me straight to the bed like I weigh nothing, then sets me down on the mattress. The springs creak under me.
He stands over me, breathing hard, eyes dark.
“You belong to me now,” he says, voice low and absolute. “I’ll never let you out of my sight.”
The words land heavy in my chest. Before I can answer he grabs the front of my shirt and rips it open. My bra follows in one rough yank. Cold air hits my bare breasts for half a second before his hands are on them—big, rough palms scouring over my skin, squeezing, thumbs dragging across my nipples until they tighten under his touch.
He shoves my skirt up and tears my underwear down my legs. I lift my hips without thinking, and then I’m completely naked under him while he’s still fully dressed. His hands never stop moving. They rake down my sides, grip my hips hard enough to bruise, slide between my thighs and force them open. Fingers drag through the wetness already there, and a low sound leaves his throat.
“Fuck, Sophie… already this wet for me.”
I can’t look away from him. My pulse is hammering. He leans down and bites the soft underside of one breast, then the other, while his hand keeps working between my legs—two fingers pushing inside me without warning. I gasp, back arching off the bed.
“You’re mine,” he growls against my skin. “Every inch of you. If another man ever tries to touch you again, I’ll saw off his fingers. You can bet your life on that.”
His mouth moves lower, over my stomach, and I know exactly where he’s going. My hands fist in the sheets as he settles between my thighs, spreads me open with both thumbs, and drags his tongue up the length of me in one long, deliberate stroke.
His tongue is hot and demanding. I cry out, my fingers flying to his hair as his tongue parts my folds, dragging upward. He groans against me, the vibration sending shockwaves through my body.
"Oh, God," I moan, my hips jerking involuntarily. His hands grip my ass, holding me in place as he feasts on me, his tongue flicking over my clit in maddeningly slow circles. I can feel my orgasm building, coiling tight in my belly, and I whimper, my thighs trembling.
"Samuel, please," I gasp, my voice breaking. "I need—"
"I know what you need," he murmurs against me, his breath ghosting over my sensitive flesh. His tongue dips lower, sliding inside me, and I cry out, my fingers tightening in his hair. He fucks me with his tongue, slow and deep, before pulling back to focus on my clit again. His fingers join the party, sliding inside me as his mouth works me over, and I’m lost, drowning in the pleasure he’s wringing from my body.
"Cum for me, Sophie," he growls, his voice rough with need. "I want to taste you when you do."
His words push me over the edge. My back arches, my thighs shaking as pleasure crashes over me in wave after wave.
I scream his name, my hips grinding against his face as I come undone, my walls clenching around his fingers. He groans, lapping at me through my orgasm, drawing out every last shuddering breath.
When I finally collapse against him, my legs like jelly, he stands, lifting me effortlessly into his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck, as he picks me up. He sits, arranging me on his lap so I’m straddling him, my pussy still throbbing from my orgasm.
His cock is hard against my thigh, straining against his jeans, and I reach down, palming him through the fabric. He hisses, his hips jerking involuntarily, and I grin, my confidence surging.
"Let me feel you," I whisper, my voice husky with desire.
His hands go to his belt, undoing it with quick, practiced motions. His cock springs free, thick and heavy, the head already glistening with pre-cum. I bite my lip, my mouth watering at the sight of him.
His eyes darken, his hands gripping my hips. "Fuck, Sophie," he growls, his voice strained. "You’re gonna be the death of me."
I position myself over him, my pussy hovering just above his cock.
He’s so damn big, and I can already feel how wet I am, how ready. I lower myself slowly, inch by inch, gasping as he stretches me open.
