At the Aerie with Garrett
# The Aerie ## Chapter One: Mountain Air The silence up here was a living thing. It wasn't the absence of sound in their suburban home, filled with the hum of appliances and the distant growl of lawnmowers. This was a deep, pine-scented q
Chapter 1
The silence up here was a living thing. It wasn't the absence of sound in their suburban home, filled with the hum of appliances and the distant growl of lawnmowers. This was a deep, pine-scented quiet that pressed against the windows of the rustic A-frame cabin, a quiet that made every breath, every shift of weight on the worn floorboards, feel significant.
Sienna stood at the wall of glass, her fingers tracing the cool pane. The valley below was a sea of indigo and black, the first brave stars pricking through the velvet of the sky. Behind her, she heard the heavy, familiar tread of his boots on the hardwood, then the soft clink of glass as he set down two tumblers of amber whiskey.
“It’s something else, isn’t it?” Garrett’s voice was a low rumble, softened by the intimacy of the space.
She nodded, not turning. She could feel him approaching, a shift in the air, a warmth radiating that had nothing to do with the stone fireplace crackling across the room. He stopped behind her, close enough that the heat of his body seeped through her thin sweater. She could smell him—woodsmoke, leather, and the clean, sharp scent of his skin beneath his beard.
His hands came to rest on her shoulders, his touch firm, grounding. His thumbs began to work the tight knots at the base of her neck with a practiced, possessive pressure. A sigh escaped her, a white cloud of vapor fogging the glass for a moment.
“You’re wound tight, Sienna,” he murmured, his lips close to the shell of her ear. His breath was warm, spiced with whiskey. “All the way up the winding road, I could feel it. Like a coiled spring.”
She leaned back into him, her head tilting to rest against the solid wall of his chest. The thick, corded muscle there was a familiar comfort, one she realized she’d taken for granted. His hands slid down, skimming the sides of her ribcage before settling on the generous curve of her hips. His palms were broad, almost spanning her waist.
“It’s just… quiet,” she whispered, her own voice sounding small.
“It’s supposed to be.” One of his hands left her hip, his fingers coming up to gently turn her face toward him. In the reflection of the dark window, their eyes met. His were a pale, glacial blue, capturing the firelight and holding it with an intensity that made her breath catch. He studied her—the dusting of freckles across her nose, the full bow of her lips, the shy uncertainty in her own blue gaze. “The quiet lets you hear the things you usually talk over.”
He let the statement hang, his thumb stroking the line of her jaw. The calloused pad was rough against her skin, a delicious friction. His other hand slid around to cradle the soft swell of her lower belly, pulling her back more firmly against him. She felt him then, the hard, thick length of him already stirring against the cleft of her ass, even through the layers of their jeans.
A flush of heat, sudden and profound, swept through her. It started low in her belly and spread outwards, pricking at her skin, making her nipples tighten achingly against her bra. This was different. This wasn’t the comfortable, predictable desire of their Saturday night routine. This was the crackle of ozone before a storm, the dizzying drop before a plunge.
He saw it in her reflection. The slight parting of her lips, the dilation of her pupils swallowing the blue of her irises. A slow, knowing smile touched his mouth, mostly hidden by the rich brown of his beard.
“The hot tub’s steaming,” he said, his voice dropping another octave, becoming a vibration she felt in her bones. “All ready under the stars. No suits. Just skin and steam and this…” He squeezed her hip, the possessive gesture shooting a jolt straight to her core. “…this quiet.”
He released her, turning to retrieve the tumblers. As he moved away, the space he left felt charged, empty and full of promise all at once. Sienna stayed at the window, watching the stars multiply in the vast blackness. The comfortable love they’d built felt like a shell around her, and she could feel it thinning, becoming translucent under the weight of the mountain and the heat in his eyes.
She wanted to hear what the quiet had to say. And more than anything, with a thrilling, terrifying surge of surrender, she wanted to answer.
Chapter 2
“No suits,” Garrett repeated, the words a low command as he handed her a glass. The whiskey burned a smooth, warm path down her throat.
He led her out onto the wide deck, where the cedar hot tub steamed against the ink-black sky. A million stars watched, indifferent and brilliant. Sienna’s fingers went to the hem of her sweater, but Garrett’s hand covered hers, stilling her.
“Let me.”
His voice was all gravel and promise. He stepped close, his body blocking the chill mountain air. His hands were slow, deliberate, as they lifted the soft wool over her head. The cold bit at her exposed skin, raising goosebumps, but his gaze was a brand, hotter than any steam.
“Look at you,” he murmured, his eyes tracing the swell of her breasts spilling from the lace of her bra, the soft curve of her belly, the trimmed thatch of hair visible above the waistband of her jeans. “All this time, in our tidy little house, and I forgot how much of you there is to worship.”
She shivered, but not from the cold. “Garrett…”
“Shhh. The quiet, remember?” He unbuttoned her jeans, his knuckles brushing her heated skin. He knelt, helping her step out of them, his beard grazing her thigh. The intimacy of it, his submission to this act of undressing her, made her head swim.
Soon, she stood naked under the cosmos, the steam from the tub licking at her legs. He stripped quickly, his own clothes falling in a heap. Her breath hitched. The firelight played over the powerful cut of his shoulders, the dense hair on his chest trailing down to where his cock, thick and already fully hard, stood proud against his belly.
He stepped into the roiling water, then held a hand out to her. “Come here, Sienna. To me.”
She took his hand, sinking into the blistering heat. The water sloshed as he pulled her into the space between his spread legs, her back to his chest. He settled her there, his arms banding around her, his cock a rigid, insistent pressure against the small of her back.
“Talk to me,” he said into her ear, his lips touching her skin. “In all that quiet on the drive up, what did you want? What did you see in your head when you looked at me and thought… *husband*?”
His question, so blunt and raw, pierced her. She’d expected touch, not confession. The hot water, his solid heat, made her brave. “I… I thought about your hands,” she whispered, the words barely audible over the bubbling jets. “Not just holding me. Owning me. I thought about you… using your mouth on me. Like you used to, when nothing else in the world existed.”
A low groan vibrated through his chest into hers. One of his broad hands slid up from her belly to cup a heavy breast, his thumb rubbing a tight, pebbled nipple. “Tell me more.”
“I thought about wanting to please you,” she breathed, her head falling back against his shoulder. Her own hand drifted down, under the water, her fingers finding the thick, hot length of him. She wrapped her hand around him, stroking slowly, feeling him jump in her grasp. “About being good for you. About how much I… I miss the way you talk to me when you’re deep inside.”
His other hand slid down her belly, through the warm water, his fingers parting her folds with a certainty that made her cry out. “Like this?” he growled, his voice dark with need. He circled her clit, the pressure perfect, devastating. “You miss me telling you how fucking perfect this pussy is? How it was made for my cock?”
“Yes,” she gasped, her hips pushing against his hand, her own strokes on him growing urgent. The water churned around them. “God, yes, Colt.”
“Then show me,” he commanded, his breath hot on her neck. “Show me how much you missed it. Use your words. Beg for it.”
Chapter 3
His command was a lightning strike in the dark, igniting a fire in her belly. The jets churned the water around them, a turbulent mirror to the storm building inside her.
“Please,” she gasped, the word a ragged puff of steam. Her hand tightened on his cock, her thumb sweeping over the slick, swollen head. “Please, use your mouth on me. I need to feel you there. I need to taste myself on your beard.”
A savage sound tore from his chest. “That’s my girl. Give me the words.” His fingers, still circling her clit, pressed harder, making her back arch. “Tell me what you want this cock to do after.”
Her mind swam, pleasure and submission blurring into a single, white-hot need. “I want it inside me,” she moaned, her hips rocking against his hand, chasing the pressure. “I want you to fuck me with it, right here. I want to feel how thick you are, how you stretch me. I want you to talk to me while you do, tell me I’m yours.”
“You are.” In one fluid, powerful motion, he lifted her. Water sluiced from their bodies as he turned her in the tight space, settling her straddling his thighs, facing him. The night air bit at her wet skin, but the heat between them was a furnace. His hands framed her face, his gaze locked on hers with predatory intensity. “Every soft, fucking perfect inch of you. Now show me.”
He guided her hips, the thick, blunt head of his cock nudging against her soaked entrance. A cry tore from her lips as she sank down, a slow, breathtaking descent that filled her utterly. The stretch was exquisite, a full, aching pressure that made her see stars. She braced her hands on his broad shoulders, her head falling forward as she took him to the hilt.
“Look at me,” he growled.
She forced her eyes open, meeting his. His expression was fierce, possessive, his jaw tight with restraint.
“That’s it,” he rasped, his hands gripping her ass, holding her deep. “Now move. Ride this cock like you missed it. Take what you need.”
She began to move, a slow, rolling grind of her hips. The water lapped at their chests, the steam rising around them like a primal veil. Every slide sent shocks of pleasure radiating through her core.
“You feel that?” he gritted out, his own hips meeting her downward strokes. “That’s where you belong. Clenching around me. So goddamn tight and wet.”
“Garrett…” His name was a prayer.
“Tell me,” he demanded, his voice rough. “Tell me what this does to you.”
“It… it makes me feel owned,” she confessed, the truth spilling out with each ragged breath. “It makes me want to come so hard for you. It makes me never want to leave this mountain.”
A feral grin split his beard. “Then don’t. Come for me, Sienna. Let me feel you fall apart.” His hands slid up to her breasts, his thumbs rough on her nipples, pinching and rolling. “Come on my cock. Now.”
Chapter 4
“That’s it,” Garrett gritted out, the words a low growl against her skin as she moved on him. “Use me. Take every inch.”
Sienna’s breath came in ragged pants, her hands braced on his slick shoulders. The water sloshed with the rhythm of their joining, a primal counterpoint to the silent stars. “I can feel you… everywhere,” she gasped, rolling her hips in a slow, deep circle that made him groan. “You’re so deep.”
“Look at me.” He waited until her blue eyes, glazed with pleasure, locked onto his. “Tell me why you’re riding me like this. What’s in that pretty head?”
She bit her lip, the submission of answering warring with the shyness. The command in his voice won. “I’m thinking… about how you fill me up. How I want to be good for you. I want you to remember this. I want you to remember how my pussy feels right now, wrapped around your cock.”
A sharp, approving hiss escaped him. “Fuck, yes. Keep talking.” His hands slid from her ass to her breasts, his thumbs painting rough circles over her nipples. The dual sensation—the fullness inside, the relentless friction outside—drove her higher.
“I want to make you lose control,” she confessed, the admission feeling dangerous and right. “I want you to forget everything but this. But me.”
“Is that what you think this is?” He gave her nipple a sharp, delicious pinch, making her cry out. “You think I’m in control right now?” He thrust up hard, meeting her downward stroke, and the sudden, perfect angle stole her breath. “You have me by the throat, Sienna. This sweet, shy pussy is calling every shot.”
The raw ownership in his words, the surrender she heard beneath the dominance, shattered something in her. Her movements became frantic, desperate. “Then tell me what to do,” she begged, her voice breaking. “Tell me how to please you. I’ll do anything.”
His hands returned to her hips, guiding her, setting a punishing, perfect pace. “Just like this. Take what you need. Take it all. And don’t you dare stop.” He leaned forward, capturing her mouth in a fierce, whiskey-tingled kiss, swallowing her moans as the water churned and the mountain held its breath around them.
Chapter 5
His hands on her hips were iron, guiding her pace as she rode him. The water sloshed with their rhythm, steam rising to kiss the cold stars. Sienna’s hands slid from his shoulders to tangle in the coarse hair of his chest, her nails scratching lightly. The look in his glacial eyes held her captive—pure, feral possession.
“That’s it,” he gritted out, his voice raw. “Take it. Own it. You feel how much I want you?” He punctuated his words with a hard upward thrust that stole her breath, filling her completely.
She could only nod, her own voice lost in the whirl of sensation. Her breasts bounced with each movement, her nipples hard peaks begging for his mouth. As if reading her mind, he leaned forward, capturing one in his teeth through the steamy air, then soothed the bite with his hot, rough tongue. The dual sensation—the deep, stretching fullness and the sharp, wet pull on her nipple—coiled the tension in her belly tighter.
“Tell me,” he demanded, releasing her breast to look up at her. Water dripped from his beard. “Tell me what you want next.”
Her mind, fogged with pleasure, grasped for the fantasies she’d locked away. “I want… your mouth,” she panted, her hips never slowing their desperate circle. “I want to come on your tongue while you watch me. I want to be your good girl.”
A dark, approving rumble vibrated from his chest into hers. In one smooth, powerful motion, he lifted her off his cock. The sudden emptiness was a shock, a cold ache. Before she could protest, he turned her in the water, pressing her chest against the rough cedar rim of the tub. The night air chilled her wet back.
“Hands here,” he commanded, placing her palms flat on the deck. “Stay just like that.”
She obeyed, her heart hammering against the wood. She heard the water shift behind her, then felt his big hands spreading her cheeks apart. The first hot, wet stroke of his tongue, flat and demanding against her sensitive entrance, made her cry out, her fingers curling against the planks.
“Yes,” she moaned, pushing back against his face. “Please, Garrett.”
His answer was a low growl against her skin as he feasted, his tongue licking and probing with an intensity that made her legs shake. One of his hands slid around her hip, his fingers finding her soaked, swollen clit, rubbing firm, perfect circles in time with the thrusts of his tongue.
The peak was a tangible thing now, a glowing coil of lightning in her core, pulled taut by his mouth and his fingers. She was balanced on the very edge, trembling, every nerve screaming for release.
Chapter 6
The coiled spring within her snapped. A raw, shuddering cry ripped from her throat as the orgasm tore through her, wracking her body against the cedar rim. His tongue kept its relentless pace, his fingers never ceasing their perfect circles, drawing the convulsions out until she was boneless, supported only by his iron grip on her hip and the rough wood.
When the last tremor subsided, he slowly withdrew. The night air was a shocking chill on her wet, sensitized skin. She heard him rise from the water behind her, his large hands returning to her hips, turning her to face him.
His cock stood thick and proud against his stomach, glistening in the steam and starlight. His glacial eyes were dark with hunger, his beard damp from her. “My good girl,” he rasped, the words a velvet command. “Now, show me what that mouth can do.”
A fresh, desperate heat bloomed in her core. The shyness was a ghost, banished by the taste of her own pleasure on his lips. She sank to her knees on the deck, the rough wood biting into her skin, a sharp contrast to the reverence in her touch. Her hands slid up his powerful thighs, her eyes locked on his as she leaned forward.
She took him into her mouth slowly, worshipfully. He was salt and skin and pure, masculine heat. She used her tongue, flat against the thick vein on the underside, just as he’d taught her years ago in their first apartment. A guttural groan vibrated from his chest, his hands coming to cradle her head, his fingers tangling in her damp hair. Not pushing, just holding, claiming.
She found a rhythm, taking him deeper with each pass, her lips stretched tight. Her own need was a dull, returning throb between her legs, but this was about him now. About the power she held in her submission, in the wet, sucking sounds and the feel of him swelling against her tongue. She looked up, meeting his burning gaze, letting him see the tears of effort and bliss in her eyes.
“Fuck, Sienna,” he choked out, his hips giving a shallow, involuntary thrust. His control was fraying, the muscles in his stomach clenched like stone. “That’s it. Just like that.”
She doubled her efforts, one hand sliding down to cup the heavy weight of his balls, rolling them gently as she took him to the back of her throat. The sounds he made were animal, raw praises and curses lost to the mountain air. She could feel the tension coiling in him, the inevitable, thrilling rise. She wanted to push him over, to swallow every last pulse of his surrender.
Chapter 7
He couldn’t hold back. Her worshipful mouth, the wet heat, the sight of her freckled cheeks hollowed around him—it shattered the last of his control. A deep, guttural roar tore from his chest as his hips jerked forward, his hands tightening in her hair.
“Sienna… take it. Take all of it.”
His cock pulsed violently against her tongue, and the first hot, salty burst flooded her mouth. She kept her lips sealed tight around him, swallowing instinctively, her own body clenching in sympathetic pleasure at the sound of his raw surrender. He came in thick, relentless waves, his big body shuddering, his thighs trembling under her palms. She milked him with gentle suction until the last shudder passed, until he was spent and softening against her tongue.
Slowly, she released him, her lips swollen and slick. She looked up, her blue eyes wide and glazed, her chin glistening. Garrett’s chest heaved, his gaze locked on her with a possessiveness so fierce it stole her breath. He sank to his knees on the rough deck, his hands framing her face, his thumbs wiping gently at the corners of her mouth.
“My girl,” he breathed, the words ragged with emotion. “My perfect, filthy girl.” He kissed her then, deep and claiming, tasting himself on her lips.
He lifted her effortlessly, her body pliant in his arms, and carried her back into the steaming water. He settled with his back against the cedar, pulling her onto his lap, her back to his chest. The heat enveloped them, a soothing balm. His arms wrapped around her, one hand splayed possessively over the soft swell of her stomach, the other cupping her breast, his thumb idly circling her peaked nipple.
They floated in the silence, the only sounds their slowing breaths and the gentle lap of water. The stars burned cold and bright above them, witnesses to their renewal. The comfortable love was gone, burned away in the tub’s steam, replaced by something wilder, truer, and profoundly theirs. He nuzzled into the damp hair at her temple, his voice a low vibration against her skin.
“We’re not going back to how it was,” he stated, a promise and a command. “This is us now. Here. Always.”
Sienna leaned her head back against his shoulder, a deep, contented sigh escaping her. She covered his hand on her stomach with her own, lacing their fingers together. In the quiet of the mountain, she had finally heard the truth she’d been too shy to voice. And she had answered.
Chapter 8
He scooped her from the water, her body steaming in the cool night air. Wrapping her in a thick, rough towel, he carried her across the deck and through the sliding door as if she weighed nothing. The cabin’s warmth enveloped them, the fire still crackling, casting dancing shadows across the massive, timber-framed bed.
He laid her gently on the soft duvet, the fleece catching on her damp skin. He loomed over her, water dripping from his beard onto her chest. His pale eyes held a dark, promising glint.
“I brought something,” he murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper against her lips. His hand smoothed her wet hair back from her forehead. “That toy you were eyeing online last week. The cock sleeve.”
Sienna’s breath hitched. She had clicked on the ad in a private moment of curiosity, her cheeks flaming, quickly closing the browser when she heard his footsteps. She hadn’t known he’d seen.
He saw the recognition and the shy shock flash in her eyes. A possessive smile touched his mouth. “I saw the look on your face. That hungry little glance.” He traced her lower lip with his thumb. “You want to feel me bigger. Thicker. Stretching you until you forget your own name.”
Her core clenched violently at his words, a fresh rush of heat spreading through her. She could only nod, her throat tight with a mixture of embarrassment and raw, pulsing need.
“Good girl,” he breathed, pressing a hard, claiming kiss to her mouth before pushing himself off the bed.
She watched him, her heart hammering against her ribs, as he went to his duffel bag. He pulled out a sleek black box, and her gaze fixed on it. The quiet of the cabin was now charged with a new, electric anticipation. He returned to the bedside, opening the box to reveal the silicone sleeve. It was deep obsidian, with a subtle texture, and noticeably thicker than his already substantial girth.
He held her gaze as he slowly, deliberately, began to roll it down the hard length of his cock. The sight of him sheathing himself, of his thickness expanding beneath the black material, made a soft whimper escape her. It was a visual promise of profound, transformative fullness.
Garrett finished, giving himself a slow, firm stroke, his eyes never leaving hers. “Tonight,” he stated, the word a law, “you don’t just take me. You take all of me. Every last, thick inch. And you’re going to thank me for it.”
He knelt on the bed, crawling over her, the new, intimidating shape of him nudging against her inner thigh. The cool, textured silicone was a shocking contrast to the heat of his skin beneath. He kissed her again, deep and consuming, as his hand slid between her legs, finding her already soaked and trembling for him.
Chapter 9
The cool, textured silicone was a shocking contrast to the heat of his skin beneath. He kissed her again, deep and consuming, as his hand slid between her legs, finding her already soaked and trembling for him.
“Look at you,” he growled against her mouth, his fingers sliding through her slick folds. “So fucking ready for this. For more of me.”
He notched the thick, blunt head of the sleeve against her entrance. The pressure was immense, a stretching, burning promise that made her gasp into his kiss. He held it there, letting her feel the sheer size of him, letting the sensation sink into her bones. “Breathe, baby,” he commanded, his voice rough with restraint. “Breathe and take it.”
Sienna forced a shaky inhale, her body arching off the bed. With a slow, relentless push, he began to fill her. It was a profound, stretching invasion, a delicious burn that made her eyes roll back. She cried out, her nails digging into the hard muscle of his shoulders as he sunk deeper, inch by impossible inch. The stretch was exquisite, a full, aching pressure that touched places inside her she’d never felt before.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, his own breath ragged in her ear. “Take all of it. Let me own every part of you.”
When he was finally seated fully within her, she felt impossibly full, stretched to a perfect, breathless limit. He stilled, letting her adjust, his forehead pressed to hers. Their panting breaths mingled. “Fuck, Sienna,” he whispered, awe in his tone. “Look at you. Taking me like you were made for it.”
He began to move, a slow, grinding withdrawal followed by a deep, punishing thrust. The textured sleeve dragged against her sensitive walls, amplifying every sensation. Each push was a conquest, each retreat a sweet torment. The sounds were obscene, wet and slapping in the quiet cabin, a raw soundtrack to their joining.
He shifted, hooking his arms under her knees, spreading her wider, driving even deeper. The new angle made her see stars. “Tell me,” he demanded, his rhythm becoming harder, more possessive. “Tell me how it feels.”
“So… full,” she choked out, her head thrashing on the pillow. “So deep. Garrett, please…”
“Please what?” he grunted, his hips pistoning.
“Don’t stop,” she begged, the words torn from her. “Just… more.”
He obliged, his pace turning fierce and unrelenting. The bedframe groaned in time with their bodies. She was hurtling toward the edge, the intense, constant stimulation of the thick sleeve coiling a brutal tension low in her belly. Her cries became constant, wordless pleas.
He watched her unraveling, his blue eyes blazing with primal satisfaction. He leaned down, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing her moans as he drove into her again and again, holding them both in that breathless, trembling space just before the fall.
Chapter 10
The rhythm was a punishing, perfect cadence. The stretch was relentless, each deep drive of his hips a brutal reminder of his claim. Sienna’s world had narrowed to the thick, textured drag inside her, the slap of skin, and the raw, guttural sounds tearing from Garrett’s throat.
“Talk to me,” he grunted, his voice shredded with strain. His hands tightened on her thighs, holding her wide open for his possession. “Tell me what this does to you.”
“It… burns,” she gasped, her head thrashing back. “So deep. You’re so deep, Colt. I feel you in my stomach.”
“That’s where I belong,” he snarled, leaning down to capture her lips in a biting kiss. He broke away, his blue eyes fierce. “Who owns this pussy?”
“You do,” she cried out, the admission ripped from her core.
“Louder.”
“You own it! You own all of me!” Her voice broke on a sob of pleasure as he angled his hips, the thick sleeve striking a spot that made her vision flash white.
“Fuck yes,” he breathed, a savage triumph in his gaze. He drove into her again, the pace turning frantic, animalistic. The bed slammed against the cabin wall with each thrust. “You take it so good. Made for this. Made for my cock.”
Sienna could only moan, her body coiling impossibly tight. The pressure was a live wire, sparking through her veins. She was balanced on a razor’s edge, the intense, constant fullness holding her in a state of suspended, agonizing bliss. One more stroke, one more perfect angle, and she would shatter.
He felt it, the tremors beginning to wrack her frame. “Not yet,” he commanded, his voice a dark promise. He suddenly stilled, buried to the hilt, his body a statue of tension above her. “Look at me.”
Her eyes, glazed and desperate, found his. Sweat dripped from his brow onto her chest. His breathing was ragged, his own control hanging by a thread.
“You feel that?” he asked, grinding his hips in a slow, torturous circle, making her whimper. “That’s me. All of me. You asked for it. You begged for it.”
“I did,” she panted, her hands clutching at his sweat-slicked back. “Please…”
“Please what?”
“Don’t stop. I need… I need to come. I need to come on your cock.”
A groan rumbled from his chest. He began to move again, a slower, more deliberate rhythm, each withdrawal a sweet agony, each return a conquest. “You’ll come when I say. And you’ll scream my name so loud the whole fucking mountain hears who you belong to.”
He shifted, pulling her legs over his shoulders, sinking into her even deeper. The new angle was devastating. Sienna cried out, a raw, broken sound, as the coiled tension within her pulled tauter, vibrating on the brink. He watched her unravel, his expression one of rapt, hungry devotion, holding them both in the breathless, trembling space just before the fall.
Chapter 11
The command was a detonation. At his words, the last thread of her control snapped. A tidal wave of sensation crashed over her, a brutal, radiant release that tore a scream from her throat. “Garrett!” His name was a prayer and a declaration, echoing off the wooden beams.
But this climax was different. It wasn’t just the deep, internal pulsing that clenched around him. A new, startling pressure built behind it, a dam of pure need she’d forgotten she could break. As her inner muscles fluttered and gripped his thick cock, a hot, gushing rush followed. It wasn't a trickle. It was a flood, a surging release that soaked the sheets beneath her, a tangible proof of her surrender.
The shock of it—the feeling of letting go so completely—made her cry out again, her body arching off the bed. Garrett felt it, the hot liquid heat cascading around where they were joined. A ragged, triumphant roar ripped from him. The sight and feel of her coming apart so utterly, of her body gifting him this primal sign of her pleasure, shattered his last vestige of control.
He drove into her once, twice more, his rhythm turning frantic and unhinged. “That’s it… fuck, Sienna… give it all to me,” he grunted, his own release building like a storm. With a final, deep plunge, he buried himself to the hilt. A hot pulse erupted inside the sleeve, his cock throbbing as he emptied himself, his own groan mingling with her whimpers.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the slick, wet heat between them. He collapsed over her, his weight a welcome anchor, his face buried in the crook of her neck. They were both trembling, spent and soaked.
Slowly, he softened and slipped from her, the sleeve following. He disposed of it quickly before gathering her limp, quivering form against his chest. He didn’t speak, just held her, one big hand stroking her damp hair, the other possessively spread over her lower belly where the aftershocks still echoed.
Finally, he kissed her temple, his voice a husky rumble. “Welcome back.”
She understood. The shy woman who’d held parts of herself back was gone, washed away in that liberating flood. In her place was someone who knew, bone-deep, what it meant to be fully claimed. She nuzzled into him, a profound peace settling over her raw nerves. The mountain quiet returned, but now it held the echo of her scream and the sacred evidence of their union.
Chapter 12
Sunlight, sharp and clean, sliced through the tall pines and flooded the cabin’s main room. It painted a bright rectangle over the rumpled sheets of the bed, illuminating the fine dust motes dancing in the air. Sienna awoke slowly, her body a symphony of delicious aches. The deep, pleasant soreness between her thighs was a vivid reminder of the night before, a permanent echo of his possession.
She was alone in the bed, but the scent of him—musky, male, and familiar—lingered on the pillows. The sound of chopping wood, a steady, rhythmic thunk, echoed from outside. She smiled, stretching like a cat, her full breasts pressing against the soft cotton of his abandoned t-shirt she’d pulled on. The fabric smelled overwhelmingly of him.
Padding barefoot to the window, she saw him. Garrett stood shirtless in the morning chill, his muscular back and shoulders gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat as he split logs with powerful, efficient swings. The play of corded muscle under his sun-kissed skin, the flex of his biceps with each lift of the axe, was a mesmerizing sight. His beard caught the light, and even from here, she could see the focused intensity in his profile.
A fresh, hungry heat bloomed low in her belly, separate from the soreness. It was a craving, sharp and specific. Last night had been about surrender, about being filled and claimed. This morning, watching him work with such raw, physical grace, her desire had a new edge. She wanted to taste him. She wanted to kneel in the pine needles and take him in her mouth, to worship that thick cock while he was still hot and vital from his labor, to make him lose that control with nothing but her lips and tongue.
The thought made her pussy clench, empty and aching. She was already wet, the trimmed curls between her legs damp. She leaned against the window frame, one hand drifting down to cup herself through the soft fabric, her fingertips applying a slow, circling pressure over her swollen clit. Her breath fogged the glass as she watched him, her blue eyes dark with intent. Today wouldn’t be about waiting for his command. Today, she would initiate. She would give him the worship he’d earned, and in doing so, command his pleasure.
She turned from the window, her movements purposeful. She shed his t-shirt, letting it pool on the floor, and pulled on only a pair of soft, worn jeans, leaving her curvy body bare from the waist up. Let him see her like this, freckled and full-breasted in the daylight. Let him know exactly what was on offer.
As she stepped out onto the rough-hewn deck, the cold mountain air pebbled her nipples into tight, sensitive peaks. Garrett halted mid-swing, the axe head sinking into the chopping block. His pale blue eyes tracked over her, from her sleep-tousled brown hair down to the proud thrust of her breasts and the bare skin of her stomach. A slow, predatory smile spread beneath his beard.
“Morning,” he rumbled, his voice still rough from sleep and exertion. He leaned on the axe handle, his gaze possessive and heating by the second. “You’re underdressed for the weather.”
“I’m not cold,” she said, her own voice surprisingly steady. She descended the steps, the pine needles cool under her feet. She didn’t stop until she was right before him, close enough to smell the sweat and clean, woody scent of his skin. Her eyes held his, a shyness now transformed into boldness. “I was watching you work. It made me think of something I need to do.”
Chapter 13
Garrett’s pale blue eyes darkened, the glacial ice turning to a simmering heat. He didn’t move, just watched her, the axe forgotten in the block.
“Is that so?” His voice was a low, gravelly purr. “And what exactly were you thinking you needed to do?”
Sienna held his gaze, her boldness solidifying under his intense scrutiny. She let her hands come to rest on the worn leather of his belt. “I was thinking,” she said, her voice dropping to a husky murmur, “that I haven’t properly thanked you. For last night. For everything.”
One of his hands came up, his rough fingers tracing the line of her jaw, then drifting down the column of her throat. “Thanked me.” It wasn’t a question. It was an invitation for her to continue, to voice the hunger he could see plain as day in her eyes.
She nodded, her fingers working the buckle of his belt. The cold air kissed her bare skin, but she was burning from the inside out. “Yes. I wanted to worship you. Out here. Just like this.” She finally freed the buckle, the leather sliding loose with a soft hiss. Her gaze dropped to the front of his jeans, where the thick outline of his cock was already prominent. “I want to taste you while you’re still hot from working. I want to feel you lose control in my mouth.”
A sharp, gratified breath hissed through his teeth. His other hand fisted gently in her hair, not pulling, just holding. “That’s a hell of a morning offering.” He leaned down, his beard brushing her cheek as he spoke directly into her ear. “And what makes you think you can make me lose control, little mountain queen?”
The new nickname, so possessive and reverent, sent a shiver through her that had nothing to do with the cold. She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide and earnest. “Because you belong to me, too,” she whispered, the truth of it solid in her chest. “And I know what you sound like when you’re coming apart. I want to hear it again. I want to be the reason for it.”
For a long moment, he just stared at her, the conflict and raw desire plain on his face. The need to command warred with the profound urge to give her exactly what she was so brazenly asking for. The latter won, dissolving into a look of awe.
“Christ, Sienna,” he breathed, his voice thick. His grip in her hair tightened just a fraction, a guiding pressure. “Then get on your knees and show me.”
Chapter 14
The command was a lightning strike, its authority igniting a blaze of pure, liquid heat between her thighs. Sienna didn’t hesitate. She sank to her knees on the cold, packed earth, her fingers working the button and zipper of his jeans with a reverence that felt ancient. The worn denim yielded, and she freed him into the crisp morning air.
He was already fully hard, his thick cock jutting proudly from a nest of dark hair, the flushed head beading with a single, clear pearl of pre-come. The scent of him—clean sweat, pine, and pure male musk—wrapped around her, heady and intoxicating. She leaned in, her breath ghosting over his sensitive skin, and heard his sharp intake of air.
“Look at me,” he growled, his fist still anchored in her hair.
She lifted her gaze, her blue eyes wide and submissive, meeting his blazing stare. Holding it, she opened her mouth and let the very tip of her tongue swipe slowly, deliberately, through that bead of salt and sweetness. His hips gave a tiny, involuntary jerk, and a low groan rumbled in his chest. The sound was a victory.
She took him deeper then, her lips stretching around his girth. She used her tongue to map the thick vein on the underside, to swirl around the crown, savoring the weight and heat of him on her tongue. Her hands came up to cradle the heavy fullness of his balls, rolling them gently in their sack as she began to move, her head bobbing in a slow, worshipful rhythm.
“Fuck, yes,” he hissed, his other hand coming down to brace on the rough wood of the chopping block. His knuckles were white. “Just like that. Your mouth was made for this. For me.”
His words, filthy and perfect, spurred her on. She took him deeper, her throat relaxing to accept more of him, her nose brushing the coarse hair at his base. She hollowed her cheeks, applying suction, her world narrowing to the taste of him, the sound of his ragged breathing, the feel of his control beginning to fray. She could feel the telltale tension coiling in the muscles of his thighs, could hear the pitch of his moans climbing higher.
He was close. So close. The knowledge was a power she wielded with every glide of her lips, every flick of her tongue. She wanted to push him over, to feel him lose himself completely in her mouth.
But his grip in her hair tightened, not pulling her away, but holding her still, his cock buried deep in her throat. “Not yet,” he ground out, the words strained. “You don’t get to decide when, little queen. I do.”
He held her there, letting her feel the frantic pulse of him against her tongue, letting her drown in the sensation of his dominance. Just as her own need became a sharp, aching throb between her own legs, he slowly withdrew, leaving her lips slick and swollen.
“Inside,” he commanded, his voice raw. He pulled her to her feet, his gaze burning with possessive fire. “Now. I want to feel that desperate, pretty mouth on me while I’m buried inside that tight, wet pussy. I want to watch you come undone around me while you taste yourself on my cock.”
Chapter 15
He didn’t wait for a reply. His grip on her hair was firm as he turned and led her, half-stumbling, back toward the open cabin door. The morning air felt like a shock against her flushed skin after the searing heat of his body.
Once inside, he released her, the heavy door swinging shut with a solid thud that sealed them in the dim, fire-warmed quiet. He stood before her, his chest rising and falling with a deep, controlled rhythm. “You were doing so good out there,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “Taking me so deep, wanting to make me come. You liked that power, didn’t you?”
Sienna nodded, her lips still tingling. “Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“I liked it,” she whispered, then stronger, finding the boldness he pulled from her. “I liked feeling you get harder in my mouth. I liked knowing I was making you lose control.”
A dark, approving sound rumbled in his chest. “But I didn’t lose it, did I?” He stepped closer, his hands going to the waistband of her leggings. “I held onto it. For this.” He hooked his fingers into the fabric and began to drag it down her hips, his gaze locked on hers. “Because I want that mouth on me while I’m buried inside you. I want to watch you come apart, Sienna, and I want to taste your pleasure on my own tongue when I kiss you.”
The leggings pooled at her feet. He urged her back until her legs hit the edge of the heavy wooden dining table. “Up,” he commanded.
She hoisted herself onto the cool, smooth surface, the wood firm beneath her bare thighs. He stepped between them, his hands sliding up to cup her face. “Now,” he said, his voice dropping to a possessive murmur. “You’re going to show me what that pretty mouth can do. And you’re not going to stop until I tell you. Understand?”
“Yes,” she breathed, her hands already reaching for him.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I understand.”
Her fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, guiding him back to her waiting lips. She took him in, moaning around his girth as the familiar, salty taste flooded her senses. This time, he didn’t hold her head still. He let her set the rhythm, a slow, deep worship that had his thighs tensing beside her hips.
One of his hands slid from her face, trailing down her neck, over the slope of her breast, until his fingers found her wet, aching core. He stroked her once, twice, gathering her slickness, and then pushed two fingers inside with a low groan. “Fuck, you’re dripping,” he gritted out, his hips pushing his cock deeper into her throat in time with his thrusting fingers. “All for me. This is all for me, isn’t it?”
She couldn’t speak, could only hum her affirmation around him, the vibration wringing a ragged curse from his lips.
“That’s it,” he panted, his fingers curling inside her, stroking a spot that made her back arch. “Take me deep. Let me feel you. I’m not going to last long watching you like this, baby. Not with your pussy gripping my hand like a fist.”
Chapter 16
His fingers curled and pistoned inside her with a relentless, desperate rhythm. The wet, slick sounds of his hand working her core filled the space between her own muffled moans. He was searching, his thumb grinding against her swollen clit while his fingers stroked that deep, spongy spot with urgent precision.
“That’s it, baby,” he growled, his voice strained as her throat convulsed around him. “Let it go. I want to feel you come all over my hand. Soak this table. Show me.”
The command, the sheer raw need in his voice, sent a fresh surge of slickness coating his fingers. Her hips jerked against his hand, her own rhythm on his cock becoming frantic. The dual sensations were overwhelming—the stretch and burn of his thick shaft at the back of her throat, and the brutal, perfect pressure building where his fingers fucked her. Her body began to tighten, a coil of pure tension winding to its breaking point.
She could feel it, a gathering storm low in her belly, a pressure that was both agony and ecstasy. Her eyes, wet with tears of effort and pleasure, rolled up to meet his. His gaze was fierce, possessive, willing her to shatter.
“Do it, Sienna. Now. For me.”
The words were the final key. A sharp, broken cry tore from her around his cock as the climax detonated. It wasn’t a gentle wave; it was a convulsive flood. Her back arched violently off the table, her inner muscles clamping down on his fingers in rapid, helpless pulses as a hot rush gushed from her, soaking his hand, her thighs, the polished wood beneath her. The intensity was blinding, wracking her with tremors as she continued to suck him through the storm, her mouth a shaky, worshipful anchor in the tempest of her release.
Chapter 17
He let her ride the last, trembling aftershocks, his fingers still and deep within her, letting her sensitive walls flutter around them. Her throat was lax around him, her mouth a warm, soft seal as she panted for air.
“Look at you,” he praised, his voice thick with awe and possession. He withdrew his fingers slowly, bringing them to his lips without breaking her gaze. He tasted her release, a dark, satisfied groan rumbling in his chest. “So fucking perfect for me. A river just for my hands.”
Sienna whimpered, the sound vibrating along his shaft. The praise, raw and carnal, poured into her, filling the hollows the orgasm had carved out.
“But you’re not empty yet, are you, baby?” he asked, his thumb stroking her flushed cheek. His other hand returned to her soaked pussy, not with gentle inquiry, but with immediate, relentless purpose. Two thick fingers plunged back inside her, curling upwards.
She gasped, her body jolting. “Garrett…”
“Tell me,” he demanded, his fingers beginning a ruthless, pistoning rhythm. The wet, obscene sound of her arousal filled the room anew. “Tell me what you feel.”
“I feel… full,” she choked out, her hips starting to move against his hand of their own accord. “Stretched. It’s… it’s so much.”
“It’s what you need,” he corrected, his voice a low growl. His thumb found her swollen clit, circling it with a pressure that made her cry out. “Your greedy little pussy is already clenching again. Begging for another flood. I can feel it.”
He was right. The peak had receded, but the deep, coiling tension was already rebuilding, fed by his words and his unyielding touch. It was a different kind of ache, deeper, more insistent.
“I want to see it,” he said, his pace becoming faster, harder. His cock slipped from her lips as he leaned over her, his blue eyes blazing down into hers. “I want to watch your face when you break for me again. When you give me everything you’ve got left. Can you do that?”
Overwhelmed, she could only nod, her back arching as he hit a spot that made her vision blur.
“Use your words, Sienna.”
“Yes,” she sobbed. “Yes, I can. Please… please make me.”
Chapter 18
“Please…” she gasped, her hips bucking against his relentless hand. “Please, Garrett… let me…”
“Let you what?” he demanded, his thrusting fingers never slowing. “Tell me the words. Give me exactly what you want.”
She was incoherent with need, the peak terrifyingly close again. “Let me come for you.”
He shook his head, his thumb circling her clit with punishing precision. “Wrong. Try again, Sienna. What do you want to give me?”
The understanding slammed into her. It wasn’t about her release. It was about his. It was about offering her pleasure as a comfort to him, a gift of surrender. “Let me… let me comfort you,” she pleaded, the words a ragged sob. “Let me squirt for you. Please… let my body comfort you. I want to give you that.”
A dark, approving groan tore from his chest. “Yes. That’s it. Give it to me. Your comfort is mine to take. Now, fucking *squirt* for me, baby. Show me your river.”
The command was the final key. His fingers drove deeper, his palm grinding against her as he found the perfect, brutal angle. The coil inside her snapped.
Her back arched off the floor, a raw, guttural cry ripping from her throat as the floodgate burst. A hot, rushing torrent poured from her, soaking his hand, her thighs, the rug beneath them. It was a shocking, violent release, a physical surrender so complete it felt like her soul was pouring out for him.
He watched, mesmerized, as her body convulsed through it, his fingers still buried within her, feeling her inner walls pulse and clamp in endless, wet waves. “That’s it,” he growled, his voice thick with awe. “Look at that. Look what you give me. Perfect fucking comfort.”
She collapsed, spent and trembling, every nerve utterly shattered. He slowly withdrew his glistening fingers, bringing them to her lips. “Taste it,” he ordered softly. “Taste the peace you made for me.”
With a whimper of total submission, she opened her mouth and sucked his fingers clean, tasting her own intense release. He held her gaze, his blue eyes blazing with a possessive fire that promised this was only the beginning of her comfort.
Chapter 19
He pulled his fingers from her mouth, his eyes dark with a primal satisfaction. Before she could catch her breath, he was moving, his powerful body shifting to kneel between her splayed thighs. The blunt, thick head of his cock, glistening with her saliva and his own arousal, pressed against her soaked entrance. He rocked his hips slowly, rubbing himself through her slick folds, coating himself in her essence but applying no pressure to enter.
“Look at you,” he breathed, his voice rough. “So wet. So open for me. This pussy is begging.” He circled her clit with his tip, a teasing, maddening stroke that made her hips jerk. “Is this what you really need, Sienna?”
“Yes,” she gasped, her hands fisting in the rug beneath her.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I need it. Please.”
He stilled, holding himself perfectly against her, a promise he wouldn’t fulfill. “You need what, exactly? Be specific. Tell me what this greedy little cunt is screaming for.”
She whimpered, the denial an exquisite torture. Her body felt hollow, aching to be filled. “You. I need you inside me.”
“Inside you where?” he demanded, dragging his cockhead down to nudge at her other, tighter entrance, making her gasp. “Here? Or here?” He slid back up, rubbing firmly against her clit until she cried out.
“My pussy,” she sobbed, the crude word fueling her desperation. “Please, Garrett, I need your cock in my pussy.”
“My cock?” he prompted, a dark thrill in his gaze. “Describe it. Tell me what you’re begging for.”
Tears of pure need pricked her eyes. She was laid bare, every shred of shyness incinerated. “Your short, thick cock. I need your small, perfect cock to fuck me. Please, baby, please give it to me. I need to feel you stretch me. I’m begging you.”
A guttural sound of triumph ripped from him. “Good girl. That’s my honest girl.”
In one powerful, claiming thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside her, filling the devastating emptiness with his heat and girth. Her back arched, a shattered cry torn from her lips as he seated himself fully, his pelvis grinding against her.
“You see?” he growled, holding himself deep, letting her feel every inch. “You ask so pretty, you get exactly what you need. Now take it. It’s all yours.”
Chapter 20
He began to move, setting a slow, torturous rhythm. Each measured withdrawal was a promise withheld, each deep, grinding return a fleeting reward. He kept his strokes long and deliberate, filling her completely before drawing nearly all the way out, making her feel the shocking emptiness before the aching fullness returned.
“This?” he growled, his voice thick with restraint. “Is this what you need?”
“Yes,” she whimpered, her hips trying to chase his.
He slowed further, almost to a stop, his cockhead just barely inside her. “Or this?” He gave one shallow, teasing push. “Do you want it slow? So slow you feel every single ridge, every vein?” He pushed in another devastating inch. “Or…” He pulled out completely, the cold air a shock against her wetness, before surging back in with a single, sharp, deep thrust that punched the air from her lungs. “Do you want it harder? So hard it steals your breath?”
She cried out, a sound of pure, desperate frustration. “Please.”
“Please, what?” he demanded, resuming his agonizingly slow pace. “You don’t get to just say ‘please.’ You have to earn it. You have to beg for the exact thing this greedy pussy is screaming for.” He leaned down, his beard brushing her cheek, his lips at her ear. “Tell me. Words, Sienna. Give me the words.”
Tears of raw need spilled from the corners of her eyes. “Harder,” she sobbed, the admission torn from her. “I want it harder. I need you to fuck me harder, Garrett. Please.”
“Louder,” he commanded, his pace not changing.
“Harder!” she shouted, her voice breaking. “Fuck me harder! Please, baby, I can’t take the slow… I need it hard. I need to feel you. I need you to wreck me. Please!”
A savage sound of victory ripped from his throat. “That’s my girl.”
In an instant, the torturous slowness vanished. He drove into her with a force that shook her body, his hips pistoning, his powerful thighs slapping against hers. The slow, deep stretch became a relentless, pounding rhythm that stole her breath and her thoughts, leaving only blinding, white-hot sensation.
“Is that it?” he grunted, his control fraying with every thrust. “Is that what you needed?”
“Yes! God, yes!” she screamed, her nails digging into his back, her legs locking around him to pull him deeper with every brutal, perfect stroke.
Chapter 21
“You love this small cock, don’t you, Sienna?” he grunted, the pace relentless, his voice a guttural command in her ear. “Tell me how much you love it.”
“I love it!” she cried, her body arching to meet his punishing thrusts. “I love your cock, God, I love it so much!”
“Yeah, you do,” he snarled, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. “You’re gonna squirt all over me again. I can feel that tight little pussy clamping down, getting ready to soak me. Aren’t you?”
“Yes! Yes, I am!” The admission was a desperate wail, the coil inside her winding to a shattering pitch.
He didn’t let up, his rhythm a furious, driving beat. “Then beg for it,” he demanded, his own control visibly fraying, his muscles corded with strain. “You want me to fill this tight little pussy? You want me to come inside you, to fill this tight, wet pussy with my cum?”
“Please!” she sobbed, completely unraveled. “Please, Garrett!”
“Not good enough,” he growled, punctuating each word with a deep, jarring thrust. “Beg. For. It.”
She screamed his name, the words torn from a place of pure, animal need. “Please, baby, please come inside me! Fill me up! I need you to fill my tight pussy with your cum, I need it, please, I’m begging you!”
A roar of pure triumph ripped from his chest. “That’s what I wanted to hear.” His pace became frantic, a final, brutal sprint. “Take it. Take every fucking drop.”
Chapter 22
Garrett’s roar was primal. His hips slammed into hers one final, brutal time and locked, buried to the hilt. His body went rigid, a cord of pure muscle vibrating against her back.
“Fuck, Sienna… taking it all… oh fuck!”
His orgasm erupted inside her, a scalding, pulsing rush that flooded her deepest core. The sensation was so intense, so possessive, it triggered a detonation within her own body that she could not contain.
“Garrett!” she screamed, the sound torn raw from her throat.
Her climax wasn’t a wave; it was a dam breaking. The tight clamp of her pussy around his still-spurting cock convulsed violently, and then she was gushing. A hot, uncontrollable torrent soaked them both, splashing over his thighs and hers, dripping onto the floorboards beneath them with a loud, wet patter.
“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, his own release shuddering through him as he felt the warm spill everywhere. “Look what you’re doing… you’re fucking squirting everywhere.”
“I can’t stop!” she sobbed, her body jerking helplessly against his. “It won’t stop!”
He held her tight through the cataclysm, his arms banded around her ribs as she bucked and trembled. “Let it go,” he commanded hoarsely into her ear. “Give me every last drop. Soak me.”
And she did. The gushing subsided into deep, aftershock shudders that milked the final pulses from his own cock. For long moments, the only sounds were their ragged gasps for air and the soft drip onto the floor.
Finally spent, Garrett’s weight sagged against her gently. He nuzzled into the damp hair at her neck. “You wrecked me,” he whispered, his voice wrecked indeed.
Sienna could only whimper in response, her limbs liquid. She felt him soften inside her, a spent intimacy that made her want to weep.
He shifted slowly, pulling out with a soft, wet sound that made her blush even in her exhaustion. Turning her in his arms to face him, he looked down at the mess between them—on their skin, on the wood.
A slow grin spread across his sweat-damp face. “You marked me,” he said with awe-laden satisfaction.
She looked down too, shyness trying to creep back in but failing against the bone-deep satiation. “I… I didn’t mean to make such a mess.”
“Hey.” He tipped her chin up with two fingers. His blue eyes were clear, intense. “Don’t you dare apologize for that.” He kissed her softly. “That was you giving me everything. That was perfect.”
He scooped an arm under her knees and another behind her back, lifting her easily from the damp spot on the floor. “C’mon,” he murmured against her forehead as he carried her toward the bedroom. “Let’s get cleaned up.” A possessive rumble vibrated in his chest. “Then we talk about how we’re doing this again.”
Chapter 23
Garrett carried her into the slate-tiled shower, the warm spray already billowing with steam. He set her down gently on the wide bench, his hands cradling her face.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice thick with awe. Water plastered his hair to his forehead, droplets catching in his beard. “What you just did… Sienna, that was the most incredible, sexiest thing I have ever witnessed in my life.”
His words washed over her, more potent than the heat of the water. A shy, proud smile touched her lips. “It just… happened.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. “You happened. You gave it to me. You surrendered so completely, your body couldn’t hold anything back.” He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers, his eyes intense even through the steam. “Do you have any idea what that does to a man? To see his woman come apart for him like that? To feel her claim him with everything she has?”
He reached for the soap, working up a thick lather in his palms. His touch was reverent as he began to wash her, his hands sliding over her shoulders, down the slope of her breasts, across the soft plane of her stomach.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he continued, his voice a low, possessive rumble under the spray. “It was beautiful. It was fucking primal. You marked us, Sienna. You marked that spot on the floor, you marked me.” His soapy hand slid between her legs, washing her with a tender, thorough care that made her gasp. “And I’m never going to forget it.”
She arched into his touch, her earlier shyness utterly dissolved. “You liked it,” she whispered, not a question but a confirmation of power.
“Liked it?” He let out a short, breathless laugh. “I’m ruined for anything else. From now on, that’s the standard. That total, messy, perfect surrender.” He rinsed her clean, his eyes never leaving hers. “And I’m going to spend every day earning it from you again.”
He turned her gently, pressing her back against the warm, wet tile so he could wash her front. His cock, thick and already half-hard again, brushed against her thigh. He made no move to pursue it, his focus entirely on her.
“Talk to me,” he said, his hands gliding over her ribs. “What did it feel like for you? In that moment.”
She melted under his touch and his demand. “It was… like breaking open,” she breathed, her head tilting back. “Like every wall I didn’t know I had just shattered. I couldn’t control it. I didn’t want to.”
“Good,” he murmured, kissing her shoulder. “Never want to control it with me. I want all of it.” He turned off the water, reaching for a large, fluffy towel. Wrapping her in it, he began to pat her dry with the same deliberate care. “That’s our secret now. What happens up here in the quiet. That wildness.” He bundled her up and lifted her again, carrying her back toward the rumpled bed. “And we’re just getting started.”
Chapter 24
He settled her onto the bed, the towel still draped loosely around her. Instead of joining her, he knelt on the floor, his hands resting on her knees, his gaze level with hers.
“Tell me something true,” Garrett said, his voice low and intent. “Right now.”
Sienna’s fingers played with the edge of the towel. The command, the directness, made her pulse quicken. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything. But start with this.” He leaned forward, his beard brushing her thigh. “When you walked out to me this morning, topless, with that look in your eyes… what were you thinking?”
She let out a soft breath, the memory a fresh thrill. “I was thinking… I wanted to see you unravel. I wanted to be the reason. I wanted to take back a piece of the power I’d always just… given you.”
A slow, proud smile spread across his face. “And did you?”
“Yes.” Her answer was immediate, sure. “I felt you shake.”
“Good.” His hands slid up her inner thighs, parting them. The cool air of the cabin kissed her damp skin, making her shiver. “That’s the game, Sienna. You give me the power to undo you, and in doing that, you hold every ounce of power over me. You see that now, don’t you?”
“I’m starting to,” she whispered, her hips shifting involuntarily.
“Talk me through it,” he urged, his thumbs drawing slow circles just shy of where she ached for him. “The power exchange. In your words.”
She fought to form a coherent thought, his proximity, his touch, scattering her focus. “It’s… it’s not a fight. It’s a gift. My submission. You don’t take it. I offer it. And when you accept it…” She gasped as one thumb swept higher. “…you’re responsible for it. For me. That’s the weight. That’s the power I have.”
His eyes darkened, blazing with approval. “Fuck, yes. Exactly.” He leaned in, his lips a breath away from her. “And what do you want to offer me right now? In this quiet?”
Her answer was a raw, honest exhale. “My pleasure. I want you to use it. To take what you want from it. I want to watch you enjoy it.”
“Then watch,” he commanded.
He lowered his head, his mouth finding her with a purposeful, open-mouthed kiss. His tongue delved deep, and her back arched off the bed, a sharp cry tearing from her throat. His hands pinned her hips, holding her still for the relentless, savoring rhythm of his tongue. He wasn’t just pleasuring her; he was consuming her, and he was making sure she witnessed every deliberate, worshipful stroke.
“You taste like us,” he growled against her, the vibration shooting through her core. “You taste like that wild thing you gave me. And I’m addicted.”
Chapter 25
His mouth was relentless, a hot, wet, devastating focus that drew the world down to a single, pulsing point. Sienna’s fingers twisted in his hair, her hips lifting helplessly off the bed to meet each deep, languid stroke of his tongue. The pressure built in a tight, exquisite coil, winding tighter with every pass of his lips, every sinful flick against the most sensitive part of her.
“Garrett,” she gasped, her voice a shattered thing. “Oh, god…”
He pulled back just enough to speak, his breath a searing brand against her wet skin. “Tell me.” His command was a rough vibration. “You’re close. I can taste it. What do you want next?”
Her mind was a blur of heat and need. “You. Just you.”
“Not good enough.” He sealed his mouth over her again, sucking deeply, and her vision sparked white at the edges. He was pushing her right to the precipice, holding her there with expert cruelty. When he pulled away again, his blue eyes were fierce. “Specifics. Use your words.”
She was panting, every muscle taut. The words felt ripped from her soul. “I want… your cock. I want you to fuck me with it. Right now. While I’m like this.”
A dark, triumphant smile touched his lips. “While you’re like what?”
“Desperate,” she whimpered. “Empty. Needing you to fill me.”
“Good girl.” He rose over her in one fluid motion, his thick cock already hard and straining. He guided himself to her entrance, the broad head a blunt, perfect pressure. “You want me to take you hard? To claim what’s mine?”
“Yes,” she breathed, her body arching in invitation, a silent plea.
“Then watch,” he growled, and with one powerful, deliberate thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside her.