Moving to her back, I listen as she asks me to fill her up. Satisfying her is the most important thing in the world. I ease myself into her pussy, the place I belong, and her warmth envelops me, making me feel like a goddamn king. Her king. Her one and only.
I waited for her all my life and she’s the only woman I’ve ever kissed, explored, devoured. It’s an honor I treasure every day of my life. She is mine and I am hers and as I fill her, I say a silent prayer thanking the ghosts of Christmas past for giving me Maple.
“What?” she asks, searching my eyes as I fill her, her arms wrapped around my neck.
“I was just thinking how much I love you,” I tell her.
My words soothe her, and she closes her eyes, letting the pleasure of our bodies, now entwined, wrap around her. “I love you too, Filson.”
She comes with my cock buried in her pussy; her moans would have woken the children. But they aren’t here. The next two nights are ours alone. And we aren’t going to waste a moment of them.
I kiss her, having already memorized every inch of her skin, every flutter of her eyelashes, every beat of her heart. She is mine, and I am hers. Home isn’t where the beard is. Home is right here, in this sliver of space, when we are wrapped in each other’s arms. Home isn’t a place – it’s a feeling.
And I feel like the luckiest man on this mountain.
About the Author
Frankie Love writes filthy-sweet stories about bad boys and mountain men.
As a thirty-something mom who is ridiculously in love with her own bearded hottie, she believes in love-at-first-sight and happily-ever-afters.
She also believes in the power of a quickie.
Join Frankie Love’s Mailing List for a free book … plus never miss a new release:
https://frankielove.net/newsletter/