I’m coming with her as I take a firmer grip on my cock, working it faster and using my forefinger to give myself pressure underneath my head. I come hard, shattering on the edge of my orgasm and the sounds of her as she mutters soft little curses across from me. It feels so fucking perfect after so many nights of taking myself close without any release. Thinking of her without having her here.
I groan as I lean back against the arm of the couch, my eyes closed and my mind lost in a sea of infinite fucking perfection as the sounds of her start to fade softly, and her breathing begins to slow. I just want to pull her against me and kiss my way over her skin. Confess how much I want her even though I shouldn’t, as if that isn’t evident by the mess I’ve just made of myself. Of both of us, really.
“You’re really fucking gorgeous, Zephyrine. I hope you know that. Everything about you. Not just your face or your body. Your mind. Your laugh. Your heart. Every little thing about you. You’re literally what dreams are fucking made of.” I say the words before I can stop myself. She deserves to hear them.
“I feel the same way about you,” she answers. “I’ve never done things like this. Wanted someone so much like this.”
Anyone else is a pale distant memory compared to the woman I have in front of me. The woman I don’t deserve, no matter how much I might want her. The act is so tame in comparison to things I’ve done, but it’s never felt this fucking raw and vulnerable. Never as honest as it is right now with her. I wonder if she really might be the death of me.
“I know,” is all I manage to say. I take a deep breath and then I stand, righting my clothes and tucking myself back in. I'll clean up in a few minutes, but I want her neatly tucked in her bed before temptation can creep back in.
I lean over and scoop her up from the couch. She doesn’t protest like I expect, wrapping her arms around my neck instead. I resist the thought that urges me to kiss her, reminding myself she’s forbidden fruit in every possible fucking way I could imagine.
“Do you think you can sleep now?” she asks.
“I hope so.” My body is exhausted, but my mind’s already whirring with all the newfound implications of what we’ve done.
“Do you want to sleep in here, with me?” she asks as I lay her down on the rumpled sheets she abandoned a short while ago. What if she never got up tonight? We’d never know now.
“I can’t.” My voice is rough when I answer her.
“Sweet dreams.” She doesn’t argue, and I’m grateful for it.
“Sweet dreams,” I agree. Ones so fucking sweet they’ve bled over into reality.
TWENTY-ONE
Zephyrine
“If there wassomething I wanted to make, could I get some ingredients from somewhere?” I ask the next morning, as if nothing’s different.
He lifts his eyes from his phone to meet mine, but not before they sweep over me in appreciation. We’re pretending just like we promised one another. Last night was a dream and nothing more. It was a one-time thing to get it out of our systems. Breaking the tension in this cabin would cure us both. But every time he looks at me this morning, I can hear his voice again telling me what I do to him, the way I affect him, him saying how gorgeous I am.
“Not if arsenic is on the list,” he teases me.
“Ha. Not arsenic, just strawberries and cream. Things like that.” I roll my eyes and shake my head at the accusation. “I thought we agreed we weren’t killing each other.”
“We agreed I wasn’t killing you. You might still have something to gain from killing me. If you could make it out of the woods without breaking your ankle anyway.”
“Well, I have no intention of poisoning you. Just normal ingredients. I promise.”
“Yeah. Kit could probably manage it if we gave her some warning. There are some wild strawberries just outside in the woods. I picked a couple yesterday. But why do you want to make something?” He gives me a skeptical look. “I thought you’d at least enjoy the break from all the kitchen work at the convent.”
I do enjoy the break, but I also want to do something nice for him. It feels like the least I can do. He's made me several meals, has my coffee ready every morning the way I like it, put up with my drunken antics, and then was nothing but kind to me last night. For being a disgruntled and reluctant kidnapper, the man has a thoughtful streak a mile wide.
“I just have a taste for something, and I thought I could make it for us.” I shrug my shoulders, trying to act casual before he gets any more suspicious.
Saying the word “us” feels weird, like I’m implying there is an us after yesterday. Obviously, I know there isn't. There could never be. I’m going back to the convent once this is done, and he’s going back to whatever it is he normally does.
Right now, though, I’m stuck here with him, and I’m tired of this thick, lingering fog between us that makes it hard to think straight. I want to shine light on it and sort it through. I thought yesterday would have killed whatever it was by getting it out of our systems, but today only feels like the tension is just under the surface again, slowly building little by little. Like one tiny spark of static electricity could set this whole cabin on fire.
“Well, I could use the air if you want to go hunt for some fresh strawberries. There’s a colander in the cabinet.” He nods to it before he takes the last swallow of his coffee. That makes two of us who need air.
“Are you sure? I didn’t mean to interrupt.” I feel a little awkward now as I'm dragging him away from whatever he wasdoing on his phone. But he shakes his head and tucks it into his pocket as the screen goes black.
“I’m sure.” He puts the dishes in the sink as he answers and pulls the colander from the cabinet. He slides it across the counter to me and then nods for the door. “Lead the way, darlin’.”
We wanderalong a path in the woods together, and he points out different edible plants along the way until we reach a patch of wild strawberry plants he found yesterday.
