Page 167 of Dare

Crushing her to me, I snapped my hips, filling her cunt to the brink. To which, she exhaled fire against my skin. There was the first cry.

And more came. And more.

Releasing her wrists, I clamped onto her buttocks. Fastening her to the bed, I struck in and out. Hard. Slow. Our groans collided, the octaves heightening. The stem of my cock broadened, her desire coated me to the sac, and our hips locked.

Fucking became lovemaking.

Lovemaking became fucking.

With her, there was no difference. I felt it all.

Circulation. Palpitations. Vertigo.

This madness. This normalcy.

Flare wiggled her hips and twisted. I reeled my dick from her body as she flipped onto her stomach and grappled the mattress’s edge. With a growl, I snared her hips and hefted them upright, angling her body and rising on my knees. Then I lunged into her again.

She chanted and belted her waist backward, meeting my thrusts halfway. I fucked into her at a new slant, the rhythm vigorous. She arched. Balanced vertically, I lashed forward and savored the view of her backside bobbing, the split of her limbs taking my erection. Heat emanated from her sweet cunt, ripping an inarticulate noise from my mouth. Torturous. Exquisite. She bent lower, rooting my cock deeper, her pussy encapsulating me.

I hunched, Flare twisted her head over her shoulder to catch my mouth. Our tongues met, the steam of her lips yielding under my own.

“Please,” Flare implored.

“Please, what?” I panted.

“Please don’t stop.” She kissed me and whispered, “Never stop.”

Not from a thousand miles. No fucking way would I stop anything with her.

I charged after those sighs, moans, cries. Yet I needed to see her features when she came around me. Reciprocating that desire, Flare shimmied forward, breaking us apart.

I whisked Flare onto her back again, and she slammed me against her, threading her legs over my shoulders. My body fell into hers, flush and dripping with sweat. And fuck, I ground my dick inside her, the powerful motions splaying her thighs wide. Heaving for oxygen, we perfected a strenuous and concentrated tempo.

Perspiration drizzled between her breasts. My abs burned while working into her. By Seasons, I would make sure she found elation first.

Flare’s cries accelerated. I fused her mouth with my own, tasting every quiver of her tongue. Her waist seized up, because she was going to come.

Right. Fucking. Now.

I slowed my cock, plaguing her until the final shout cracked from her lungs. Her pussy rippled and clenched around me, launching another groan from my throat. I met my little beast halfway, my waist stalling. For a second, my vision went black. Then my bellow smashed through the room, cum spilling from my crown and into Flare’s convulsing body. But when my eyelids flashed apart, black turned to gold.

I fell into the color. I fell so fucking hard.

We crashed to the bed, my pulse slamming into her own. Condemnation, she would kill me someday.

Flare linked herself around my body, her tits brushing my damp skin. With my forehead pinned to hers, I fisted her dark brown waves, which had grown a few inches, though she usually preferred to keep it shoulder-length.

While our lungs recovered, we listened to the forest. Reptiles. Mammals. Sometimes I forgot other sounds existed besides these—the wild fauna and my little beast. Occasionally, it proved difficult to recall the noises of Winter.

The crunch of snow. Dire wolves howling from the pines.

I knew them. But I could not replay them.

Flare’s breathing changed. I lifted my head and surveyed her flushed smile. She never hid her expressions. From the beginning, that alone had fascinated me as much as it had unnerved me. Now I couldn’t get enough of those candid looks, her brilliant grin reactivating my sex drive.

“Tell me what you’re gushing about,” I said.

She tilted her head. “How do you know I’m gushing about anything?”