God only knew the number of men he had to have kissed in his lifetime to perfect the technique and prowess he annihilated me with so effortlessly. One plundering kiss became another, and another, and I didn’t want it to end, ever. His tongue rubbed over mine, and he bent me back with a strong hand, my body curved into his, pressed against him, while the other was tangled in my hair as he took what he wanted. It wasn’t frantic, there was no rush; instead, the kiss was deliberate and devouring, and the pleading that came from deep in my gut made him smile against my lips.
Taking hold of his shoulders, I broke the kiss to hop up into his arms, and he grabbed my ass and held on as I wrapped my legs around his waist. When I felt my back connect with a wall, I realized, through the fog of arousal, through the feel of the hard bulge of his cock straining against my crease behind the laces of his pants, that he’d carried me home.
I had forgotten to lock the door, so he opened it with one hand, keeping hold of me with the other, and walked me inside what would have been an icebox of a cabin if the fire I’d started before we left wasn’t still blazing away, casting dancing shadows on the walls. It needed to be fed, so Keir set me on my feet, pointed at the door, then went to the rack where my firewood was stacked, grabbed several large pieces, and piled them on top of the others.
I locked the door, understanding that he didn’t want us to be disturbed, and was surprised when I turned around to find him undressing on the furs in front of the hearth. Yanking off my parka, I let it fall to the floor, unable to muster the strength to even bother hanging it on a hook. I hopped around on first one foot, then the other, tugging off my boots before bolting to the bathroom.
“Tucker?” he said, confused by my sudden disappearance.
Coming back out into the living room of the small, cozy cabin, lube and hand towel with me, I stood there staring at him, deciding against turning on any more lights, the fire enough to see him clearly. He stripped off every stitch of clothing and stood near the flames in his full naked glory, every defined, sculpted inch of him there on display for me to worship. He was, without question, the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.
“Come,” he ordered, and I grinned at him, because of course this was one of the words he’d picked up, a command no less.
I crossed my arms, waiting for more words.
“Tucker,” he murmured, his voice like a rough caress, seductive and coaxing. “Come.”
I put the lube and towel down on a side table and pulled my sweater up over my head and off, dropping it to the floor at my feet. He was mesmerized by my striptease, and I was entranced watching the growing hunger in his dark, hot gaze. Once I was as naked as he was, several words, spoken gruffly, catching on a breath, tumbled from his lips.
Picking my items back up, I ran and leaped at him.
He caught me easily, chuckling as he dropped to his knees, driving me down under him onto the furs before he took my mouth in a mauling kiss.
I would show him the joy of sleeping in a bed under layers of warm blankets another time. At the moment, there was something primal and necessary about him wanting to claim me there in what had to be a familiar place for him, on furs, in front of the warm fire.
“You,” he rasped between kisses, “mine.”
“Yes,” I agreed, wriggling under him, parting my legs so he was settled there, between my thighs. When I met his gaze, desire had turned his blue-black eyes into slits of obsidian, and I whined without meaning to, letting go of any pretense of control.
A flood of pheromones washed over me, and his scent—musk and spice, earth and pine, like a primeval forest—tickled my nose, and I inhaled deeply, much to his delight, as he kissed down the column of my throat.
I passed him the lube, as I was certain he had used oil in the past to ease his way inside others, and would slather his long, thick, weeping cock with it once he mastered the flip-top. But he was consumed with kissing every inch of my skin first.
Writhing under him, arching up off the soft furs, I tangled my hands in his silky hair to try and tug him back up to face me.
“Tucker,” he husked before he kissed my stomach, pressing his face there for a moment and then lifting to lick over the head of my leaking cock.
I gasped his name, and there was a smug male grunt as he took me down the back of his throat, swallowing me to the root in a seamless glide of his tongue.
“Oh dear God,” I choked out, shuddering with the feel of the wet heat engulfing me tight, milking my length as he sucked hard, releasing me slowly in delicious, steady increments before taking me in again, every inch.
There was no chance I could last, it had been too long, and when I heard the snap of the lube only to have two greased fingers press slowly inside, I howled his name.
“Mine,” he growled when my cock slipped from between his lips and his fingers from my hole. “Tucker.”
I whimpered with need and hunger as he lifted up off me and rolled me to my stomach. Rising to my hands and knees, I let my head drop forward between my shoulders as he curled over me, his lips between my shoulder blades, those amazing fingers of his, with another added, three now slick with lube, working my hole, relaxing my muscles, opening me up.
“Please, Keir,” I begged hoarsely, pushing back, wanting him in deeper. When he slipped free, I yelled his name in frustration, only to be rewarded, instantly, with the gentle prod of the wide head of his cock to my entrance.
I shivered in anticipation as he pressed forward, inside, stretching me as his hands stroked down my sides until they settled on my hips, gripping tight so I couldn’t move, could only take as he buried himself in my ass, not stopping until he bottomed out.
I’d never been so full in my life, and it hurt. The man had a club of a cock, but as he fisted his hand in my hair, twisting my head to the side to claim my mouth, his other hand stroking my dick to renewed, leaking hardness, I moaned lewdly, needing him to move.
“Tucker,” he croaked out.
“Please, just have me,” I implored him, and caught my breath when he eased from my clenching channel a fraction only to ram back in, deeper on the second plunge, and then the third.
When the slow, careful pounding quickened, becoming a steady rutting, I shoved back on his shaft, meeting him thrust for thrust, loving that he was giving me what I craved, harder and faster, which no one but him had ever been able to deliver.
Driving to my core, the loop of pleasure nearly making me slip my skin, he used me, his grip on my hip tight, holding me still as he hammered home. When he slid free seconds later, I screamed his name in frustration.
I wasn’t expecting the kiss in response that took my breath away before he broke it seconds later, lying down on his back, stroking his long, hard, thick length and staring up at me with a wicked grin.
On him fast, I took hold of his cock as he raised his arms over his head, stretched out under me, turning his head, offering me the smooth line of his vulnerable throat even as his eyes drifted closed.
I saw his pulse beating there under his burnished cream skin, and the faith he showed me was overwhelming. There was no changing the fact that I was a predator and he was prey, and even though I was his mate—he felt that in his soul, just as I did—still, it took faith to put his life in my hands.
The thing was, I wanted all of him. His life, certainly, and that included his future, but more than anything, I wanted to be his home.