“I’m going to let you finish that sometime very soon, but right now, I want to bury myself in you, Madeline,” he said roughly. He lifted her, his hands on her ribs, feeling acutely aware of how small she was, how finely made. She sighed when he laid her on her back on the bed. He stood and whipped off his shirt, his gaze never leaving the moon-kissed vision of her. He bent and lifted her gown to her waist, making short work of the silk panties she wore.
“Open your legs, Madeline. Let me in,” he whispered, mesmerized by the sight of her shapely thighs, the erotic span of her belly, the dark, trimmed triangle of hair at the juncture of her legs. When she immediately spread her thighs wide, he muttered a curse that was meant as a blessing.
A groan ripped out of his chest when he slid into her hot, welcoming clasp. It was like being turned inside out every time he fucked her. She was too small for him. She was fucking perfect for him. She squeezed every remnant of rational thought out of his brain.
“I’m not going to last,” he said as he pumped. He hoped she forgave him, but the experience of having her give herself to him so freely—first with her sweet, sucking mouth and now with her tight, total embrace—was causing an unbearable tension to grow in him.
“I’m not going anywhere, Walker.”
He gave a gruff bark of laughter and put all of his energy into showing her he was there to stay, as well. His exuberance over his task caused both Madeline and the springs on the mattress to squeak and moan. His entire world narrowed down to the feeling of her sleek, juicy pussy pulling at his cock, tempting him until he turned into a wild-eyed animal intent on claiming his mate.
And her face . . . he couldn’t remove his eyes from Madeline’s moonlit face.
When he felt himself cresting, he jerked his cock out of her, the sensation a little like removing one of his own organs with a dull knife. He pumped his cock with his hand and roared, his semen shooting onto Madeline’s belly, anointing her, claiming her . . . marking her yet again.
He wanted to drench her with his come.
When his frenzy quieted, he opened his eyes and saw her belly glistening in the pale light. He touched the side of her body with his hand and groaned when he felt how wet she was. He’d made his fantasy a little too realistic.
“I’ll get you a towel,” he muttered, moving toward the edge of the bed. She didn’t speak when he came back with a warm washcloth and a towel to dry her. He cleaned her of what seemed like a gallon of his come, then helped her out of her gown and robe, which had grown damp as well.
He kissed her softly while his fingers moved between her thighs. He absorbed the whimpers of pleasure and shudders of her body when she climaxed against his hand a moment later.
“I’m not going anywhere, either, Madeline. Never again,” he assured her next to her trembling lips before he began the process of staking his claim yet again.
Five
Madeline awoke at four thirty in the morning. She inhaled and snuggled closer to Walker. The air was redolent with sex. Madeline smiled as she recalled their soulful, electric lovemaking. They’d spoken quietly to each other in the interims, laughing as they recalled old treasured memories—Madeline being sprayed by a surprised skunk when Billy took them camping at Crater Lake, attending the black-tie Christmas party Tony’s parents threw every year, Madeline whispering frequent reassurances to an uncomfortable, out-of-place-feeling Walker . . .
. . . their first kiss at the old Stateline Fire Lookout.
Walker stirred in his sleep and clasped her tighter. She rubbed her cheek against his chest, loving the sensation of power gloved in smooth, thick skin. He was so beautiful to her, with his narrow hips, lean torso and broad shoulders, all sleek and golden, with a walk that was sin in motion and just a tad predatory.
She kissed a flat nipple. She couldn’t see in the dark, but she knew it was copper-colored and came to attention whenever she played with it. Like now.
“Again, beautiful?”
She laughed when she heard his muffled, groggy voice.
“No. I don’t think even you are that good.”
“Oh, I’m more than good enough,” he mumbled. She could hear the smile in his voice. He moved his hand and cupped her tender outer sex. “At the very least, eager and willing. I was thinking more along the lines of how sore you must be.”
“I was actually thinking we should get back to the lodge,” she said regretfully. “Tony would have a fit if he found out I was missing.”
He went still. It was the first time the topic of Tony had come up during their stolen night.
“I’ll talk to Tony, Walker. About us. I wanted to tell you something in the boathouse. Tony and I aren’t engaged.”
His head came up like a hound catching the scent. “You’re not?”
She shook her head and did her best to describe Tony’s and her unconventional relationship, sensing his tight focus on her the entire time. “Something Tony said last night makes me think he suspects something is going on between us, anyway,” she said at the end of her explanation.
“Really?”
Madeline nodded, her cheek brushing against a smooth, dense pectoral muscle. Walker touched the back of her head, and she looked up in the direction of his face.
“Let me tell Tony,” he said. “I’ll do it sometime later today.”