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And I mean that in more ways than one.
He hovers over me, the wide expanse of his chest practically glowing in the moonlight. The pale mop of red hair is swept back from his face, and the color matches the fur that swirls over his chest. He is broad and strong, with ridges and planes that tempt me to touch him, taste him everywhere. His shape tapers down to a set of narrow hips with the soft belly of a man who enjoys good food, which I find indescribably sexy. The vee lines angle down in a long sweep, emphasizing the thick length that stands at attention before me.
His cock seems to throb under my gaze with its prominent, engorged vein marking the underside. His tree-trunk legs are strong and equally as furry as his chest. Below his chest, at the top of the left side of his ribcage is a fine-line tattoo of a moth, both enticing and startling in its detail. Jakob is the picture of everything I crave. Virile, strong, safe, and just a little bit wild.
“You’re cold,” he says.
I say nothing but reach my arms up to beckon him closer.
He needs no other instructions. He’s over me, covering me with his heat, our bodies generating enough warmth for this chilly night.
Never have I felt more thankful that I live out in the woods with hardly any visitors except the occasional deer, foxes, skunks, and wolves. Oh dear gods, please keep away the skunks and wolves tonight!
All thought of possible danger dissipates like steam when Jakob touches me.
My Jakob is so patient, so loving, taking his time to run his hands along every inch of my skin, kissing me tenderly yet thoroughly along the way.
I wonder if he heard what I asked for.
His mouth covers one nipple and sucks while his arm cradles my head. So sweet. So thoughtful.
And then, Jakob’s fingers dig into the flesh of my thigh. His mouth on my nipple sucks so hard it’s sure to leave a mark.
Finally. My sex weeps.
His caresses go higher and higher until his firm hand cups my pussy. My body jerks at the sensation, and I’m full of wonder at how it feels all new again, even after everything we’ve already done.
The mere touch of his rough fingers between my legs makes me ache to let him fill me. His mouth and wicked fingers that worship my breasts make me wet with need.
I know he must be able to feel that, too.
“You’re already so wet for me, baby.”
“Jakob,” I whisper. “I’m ready.”
He pops one nipple out of his mouth and blows on it. I feel a rush of heat spread across my chest, and desire blooms in my lower half. “Shh,” he says. “There’s no rush.” I moan as he repeats his worship with his mouth, this time to the other nipple.
The sensation is sweet torture. And I need more. I need him between my legs, and not just his fingers. Though I don’t like the idea of anyone else besides Jakob invading my thoughts during sex, I have not been able to get the words “pounding and pumping” out of my head since this morning.
Jakob sinks one digit into my slick channel, then adds his middle finger, then uses his thumb to caress my aching clit.
I reach for him, meaning to pull him up for a kiss, but he sucks one of my fingers into his mouth.
The dual sensation of that combined with the sensation of his two thick fingers pushing in deeper, harder, then pulling out, then in again, is enough to make me as wild as a feral cat as I wriggle under him.
The noises as he works his fingers in and out of me…oh gods…if anyone was nearby, they would know exactly what that is. The thought of it makes me blush.
But I know it’s just us and the trees and the wind and the stars.
“Jakob, you’re…I…I’m…”
When the pad of his thumb sweeps over the tip of my aching clit once more, my body seems to curl in on itself with the power of my release.
“Gods, you’re beautiful. Look at you.”
But I can’t look. My eyes are squeezed tightly so he won’t see them rolling back in my head as my orgasm shoots through every bone, every neuron, every nerve ending.
It’s so powerful I feel as though I squirted in his hand. Oddly, I don’t feel self-conscious about it.
