But then she smiles with relief and exhales sharply.
“Oh, my God,” she says again. “For a second there, I thought… well, I thought we’d been found out.”
I watch how her hands fall protectively over her stomach.
I reach for her, stopping just short of actually touching her.
“I should wash up first,” I say, wiggling my bloodstained fingers.
She nods with raised eyebrows. “Oh definitely,” she says. “We might even have to strip you naked to make sure we get you clean from head to toe.”
And then she frowns, a little line forms on her forehead as she turns to me.
“Wait. Where’s the deer?”
“What?”
“You said that you’re covered in deer blood,” Esme says. “Where’s the deer?”
“Oh… He got away,” I reply, making my tone as convincing as possible. “A stag, in fact. The big fucker was impossible. Got away from me three times before I finally managed to shoot him. Got this close to him too, but before I could finish the job, he bolted again and knocked me over in the process. Right here.” I tap the bruise on my forehead where Blondie had clipped me.
“Really?” Esme says, looking dubious.
“I’ll explain it better when I’ve cleaned up.”
She smiles and nods. “My husband loses a fight to a deer. Can’t wait to hear more of that.”
Despite how filthy I am, she reaches up on her tiptoes and kisses the tip of my nose. Then she gives me a little wink and leads me into the house.
I follow her calmly, but my heart is hammering on the inside. Darkness settles over the mountains.
I’ve been playing a part the whole time we’ve been up here.
And now my time is up.
68
Esme
I wake up with Artem’s arm thrown across my hip from behind, fingertips just grazing my swollen abdomen.
The length of him pressed up against my back, the warmth of his body cocooning me—it’s the kind of security I had always wished for growing up.
Safe. Strong. Protective.
I turn slowly so that I don’t disturb him and place my face right next to his. He’s still in the throes of sleep and he looks so damn peaceful that I can’t help but stare at him.
It’s rare to see him look this way. I’m usually the one sleeping long after Artem has risen.
But on the rare occasion when I wake up to find him still sleeping, I love looking at his face, at the beautiful sharp angles and the lack of conscious intensity that makes him look so much younger. So much calmer.
Almost… at peace.
I remove his hand from around me as gently as I can and slink down along the bed, pushing the sheets away a little.
I finally convinced Artem to start sleeping naked, much to my delight. So it’s easy to see that Artem’s cock is at half-mast. I know it’ll take only the slightest touch from me to get it standing at full attention.
He almost always wakes up with morning wood. I never hesitate to take full advantage.
Today is no exception.
I wrap my hand around the base of his shaft and rub gently until his cock hardens instantly in my grip. He stirs, but before he can open his eyes, I slip his cock into my mouth and start sucking devotedly.
He growls with pleasure and turns over a little, taking me with him. I grip his cock a little harder as I take him in a little deeper down my throat.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
I want to see his eyes go wild, his jaw go slack. But I’m too turned on and too invested to stop what I’m doing to look at him.
It’s a miracle that that’s the case. I’ve only ever been with two other men in my life. Oral sex wasn’t exactly fun and games. More of a chore than pleasure.
But with Artem, it’s something different entirely.
Not only do I love when he eats me out, his tongue lathing through my folds until I’m quivering with pleasure, but I love sucking him off. I love what my tongue around his cock does to him.
Once he’s hard and dripping, I release his dick and wipe my mouth as I meet his gaze for the first time this morning. He looks at me with lust-glazed eyes and reaches down to pull me towards him.
I slide up and straddle his hips so that his cock stands between my thighs, nudging against my pussy. I move slowly, rubbing my wetness against his moist cock.
“You fucking tease,” he accuses with a harsh laugh.
I grin and bite my lip. “Who, me?” I’m so turned on right now that I’m actually surprised by how calm I can act.
But I know I won’t last another minute without feeling him inside me. Staying this close but no closer is the purest form of torture I know.
So I hold his cock in place and slowly settle down, one beautiful, agonizing inch at a time.
When I finally run of cock and our hips are flush together, I let out a cry that reverberates around the room.
“Oh, fuck,” I gasp, feeling him so deep inside me that it already feels like I’m moments away from orgasm.
I don’t move at all for a few seconds. I just sit there on him, his cock buried inside me, and I wait for my pussy walls to stop clenching so hard around him.
When I can finally catch my breath again, I place my hands on his hard chest and bend down a little so that I can press my face in his neck. I breathe his musk in like a drug.
Then I start moving slowly, taking my time, riding him gently and building momentum as we go.
He lies back and lets me, watches me.
It took a long time for him to relinquish control. To let me do this—control the movement, the pace, the rhythm.
I’ll always loving giving all that up to him. Letting him own me completely—mind, body, and soul.
But this is good, too, when the time is right.
And right now, the time is so fucking right.
I know he
