I don’t mind it, though.
For some reason, the sound to go along with his motions makes it sexier.
Thrust, thrust, thrust.
Squeak, squeak, squeak.
Nose to nose, we hold eye contact. And as I stare into his baby blues, I know I found my person. Somehow, in the most unlikely of scenarios, I met the one man in this world who understands me and appreciates me for who I am.
An intense euphoria descends on me. It’s better than when I’m on my meds, better than any experience I’ve ever had.
My head is light and my chest is heavy as I look down to where Preston’s entering me. Every time he rolls his hips, I get a peek of his cock before it disappears into my body.
“You okay?” Preston grunts out, and I can tell he’s restraining himself.
“I want more,” I pant.
Smirking, he laces his fingers with mine and pins my hand above my head. “You call the shots.”
A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead as he hikes my thigh up a little higher with his other arm.
The action spreads me wider, opens me up for him to go deeper.
And he does.
I realize he was going easy on me before as he begins to pound his cock into me.
Throwing my head back, I let out a surprised moan, and Preston takes the opportunity to kiss my neck. Fusing his lips around my skin, he sucks and sucks. Tingles spread from the spot, sending chills down my arms and making my nipples pucker.
I moan more. Louder. Repeatedly. No one can hear us out here anyway.
The bed is still squeaking away as Preston kisses me everywhere he can. He sucks my lower lip into his mouth. He nips at my chin. He flicks his tongue against mine.
His rocking motions get faster.
Just like last night when we were messing around, a pressure is building inside me. I’m on the cusp of orgasm, but I can’t quite get there.
Shifting my hips, I try to move with Preston, and when my clit grazes his pelvic bone, a jolt of pleasure shoots through me. I gasp as my whole body jerks.
Realizing what I need, Preston changes the motion of his thrusts, bearing down on me to make sure he’s rubbing me right.
My inner muscles flutter.
I cry out, both from feeling good and being overwhelmed.
“You gonna come, baby?” Preston asks, and just the sound of his husky voice asking me that question pushes me closer to the edge.
I nod, and my lips brush against his.
Letting my thighs fall apart as far as they can, I open myself up as much as possible. Preston continues pumping into me, speeding up as we both chase our climaxes.
Rock, rock, rock.
Squeak, squeak, squeak.
His hand leaves mine to cover my breast. He tweaks and squeezes the mound before circling my nipple with his thumb.
Kissing down my jaw, Preston goes to the same place on my neck as before. He sucks hard, and that’s all it takes.
A white-hot explosion happens.
I’m already sore from losing my virginity, and the sensation of my tender insides clenching around his hard cock is painful. It hurts, but it’s also extremely satisfying.
I don’t even realize I’m screaming until I stop. Breathing hard, I go limp as Preston keeps fucking me. My throat feels raw, and my ears are ringing.
“Should I pull out?” Preston grunts. “Last chance to be responsible about this.”
I hook my ankles behind his ass to keep him where he is. “Don’t you dare.”
Growling, he speeds up. He gives three more thrusts before shoving himself so far inside me I lose my breath for a second.
He groans loudly by my ear, and his cock jerks several times as I’m filled with a wet heat. His cum. It’s part of me now. There’s something exciting and kind of forbidden about the thought of getting pregnant. It’s the most reckless thing I’ve ever done, but I want it.
Keeping his dick right where it is, Preston doesn’t bother to leave my body just yet. With his heavy weight on top of me, he stares down at me with the most loving expression. He strokes my face. Kisses my lips, chin, and nose.
And then he smiles with that adorable little gap front and center.
I think I’ve found heaven on Earth. Just Preston, me, and this noisy mattress.
Who knew a cabin in the middle of nowhere could feel like home?
After we finished fucking, I cleaned Rosalie up with my shirt again. At this rate, I’m going to run out of clean clothes, but I don’t care. Having Rosalie’s virgin blood mixed with my cum smeared all over my T-shirt is the best sight I’ve ever seen.
Except for Rosalie’s face, of course. I don’t think she’s stopped smiling and laughing for the past two hours. The sun has set, and a few lanterns are lit around the kitchen as a can of soup heats on the wood-burning stove.
While we wait for dinner to be ready, we’re hanging out on the bed. Rosalie’s sprawled across my lap, and she’s doodling a ‘tattoo’ on my inner ankle with a Sharpie pen. I’ve got her hair in my hands, weaving a Dutch braid over her scalp.
The battery-operated radio is on the counter, playing the only station it can pick up out here. Cell service is complete shit, too.
We’re officially off the grid.
And I’m officially in love. After introducing sex to our dynamic, I’m especially possessive and almost a little paranoid that something’s going to come between us.
Maybe we should stay here for a while. How long? I’m not sure. Enough time for our story to get stale. After a couple weeks, people will move on to the next big thing.
“I like the name Preston,” Rosalie spouts happily as she continues drawing on my ankle. “Will you have to change it once we get to where we’re going?”
“I don’t know.”
“I hope you keep it. Would it be enough to just change our last name?”
Probably not, but I don’t want to shoot her wishes down just yet. “I’ll think about it.”
“I really don’t care if I’m a Rosalie or a Sarah. I could be an Odette. Or a Francine.” Snickering, she glances at me over her shoulder. “What do I look like to you?”
Before I can stop myself, I’m whispering, “Melody.”
Her smile drops. “What did you say? Melody?”
I shouldn’t have done that. If she still has memories from her life before being taken, I could trigger something in her mind. And I’m not ready to get into that shit. Not on her wedding day. A day that shouldn’t be shadowed by past tragedies.
Thankfully, I don’t have to answer.
Scrunching up her nose, Rosalie shakes her head. “I don’t know about that. I’m not musically talented. Luckily, I don’t have dreams of being a pop star. Have you ever heard me sing?”
“In fact, I have.” I tie off her braid, relieved as hell that we’re moving onto talking about something else. “You weren’t quiet about it in your house. Sometimes hearing you was the best part of my day.”
As she finishes the heart she’s drawing, I keep touching her hair. Stroking it. Petting it. Winding the big braid around my hand.
It’s not until a tremor runs through Rosalie I stop.
“Shit,” she curses. “I messed up.”
I look down and see a squiggly line where a straight arrow should be through the heart.
She sits up while rubbing her forehead. There’s a sheen of sweat there, and now that she’s not smiling, I’m aware of how haggard she looks. Her face is paler than usual, and there are dark circles under her eyes.