A soft hiss of ember popped behind them as Mark’s palm slid along Vicky’s. Their fingers laced; the bondage silk,
still looped loosely round her neck, brushed his knuckles like a reminder. Without a word he drew her off the
quilt, the cabin’s floorboards cool against his soles, the night air tightening her dusky nipples into stiff beads.
Beyond the un-curtained window frost glittered, but inside only the copper glow of the wood-burner moved,
painting shifting liquid shadows across their naked skin.
He guided her down the two stone steps into the little rectangle of water. It was neither warm nor icy,
something in between that made her inhale through her teeth, the sound sharp and delighted. The faint
chlorine smell mingled with pine sap caught in her hair, and the surface trembled when she descended, water
kissing her ankles, then knees, then halfway up her strong thighs. Mark followed, thighs thicker, belly softer, the
surface climbing his body until dark hair floated like curling smoke. When his back met the tiled rim he exhaled,
shoulders relaxing, eyes half-lidded yet fixed on her, possessive in a way duty had never let him show.
"Vicky," he murmured—her name alone, nothing else—because titles, roles and store rosters had all been
stripped as bare as they were. She stepped between his spread legs, water swaying against the hollows under
her breasts. Hands on his shoulders, she hopped lightly; calves curled round his flanks, heels locking at the small
of his back. Their slick torsos aligned: her plush chest crushing to his broader one; his soft stomach pillowed
against the firm curve of hers. With that single motion her sex nestled atop his groin, silky hair mingling with his
own gray thatch, the head of his half-hard cock slipping into the warmth created by their pressed bodies.
Mark raised both hands to her hair. Long strands clung, wet and weighty, threading through his fingers like thick
sea. He gathered it back, cupped the sides of her face—thumbs brushing the outer corners of bright blue
eyes—and tilted her mouth to his. The kiss began gentle, almost chaste, a slow press that asked rather than
took. Then her lips parted with a sigh and his followed, tongues gliding against each other, tasting faint
wood-smoke and the salt of exertion still lingering on her skin. She breathed him in; he swallowed the small
whimper vibrating in her throat, felt it travel through his own chest.
They stayed locked that way while the fire crackled softer, embers sinking. Every so often one of them angled
deeper, heads slanting, noses brushing, breaking only to draw a shaky lungful before sealing again. Time thinned;
droplets slipped from her hair and splashed his shoulders, sounding absurdly loud in the hush. He mapped her
under the water’s disguise: fingertips sweeping the wings of her shoulder-blades, tracing down the channel of
her spine, splaying wide across the broad give of her backside. His cock thickened lazily between them, bobbing
upward until the underside lay shaft-to-slit, heat meeting heat.
Vicky answered with slow rolls of her hips, just enough friction to prime nerves still humming from earlier
orgasms, yet not enough to race. She slid her palms over his chest, circled the fleshy pads of his pecs, grazed the
nipples hidden there until he grunted into her mouth. One hand kept travelling—over the swell of belly,
through floating silver curls, until fingers met the root of his dick. She encircled him loosely, feeling the pulse
that beat against her thumb, and gave three languorous strokes that bent him harder, veins flaring, crown flaring
slick with seepage.
"Still hungry?" she whispered against his lips, voice husky, playful. "Even after devouring me on the bed?"
He answered by tightening arms around her back, pulling her flush so her breasts pancaked upward. Mouth
wandered to her jaw, her ear. He nipped the lobe—soft bite, then the swirl of tongue to soothe—while
murmuring, "Never full where you’re concerned, Vix." Another nip, lower, at the tendon of her neck, and she
shuddered, thighs squeezing his waist.
The water sloshed gently as he mouthed along her collarbone, returning northward to claim her lips once more.
All the while his hands ranged lower, spread her cheeks beneath the surface, kneading flesh that felt heavier,
silkier when wet. She responded by tilting pelvis up; his crown slid along the divide of her pussy, crown splitting
swollen outer lips, painting her with clear fluid.
He broke the kiss long enough to watch her face. Color rose along her cheekbones; lashes fluttered yet eyes
stayed on him, unguarded. She positioned him deliberately—one hand guiding the blunt head through her folds,
settling it at the soaked entrance but not pushing inside. A tease, a question, a dare. Heat kissed heat; her inner
muscles fluttered, beckoning.
Mark’s gray eyes darkened, chest rising faster. "Say it," he breathed. Professional caution tried to fling its usual
net, but lust shredded it.
Vicky’s grin curved wicked. "Fuck me, boss." She punctuated by rolling hips forward—just the tip
breaching—then retreating, leaving him pulsing in open water.
A rough groan tore free. He flexed knees, lowering himself an inch so the angle aligned. Hands returned to her
waist; fingers dented soft flesh as he pulled her down while thrusting up. In one slow glide he split her open,
cock tunneling through clutching walls until pubic bone met bone. The sound she made was half-moan,
half-sob, carried on a breath that misted across his lips.
"God… yes," she hissed, walls adjusting around the stretch, inner heat gripping him like a velvet vise. Beneath
the surface their bodies locked completely: her heels hooked under the heavy swell of his buttocks; his belly
cushioned her mound; her nipples stabbed into his chest hair. Every panting inhale rocked them, water licking at
their joined skin.
Neither moved fast. Instead Mark ground, stirring deep, feeling her cervix brush the crown with each subtle
swirl. His lips found hers again, tongue fucking her mouth in languid mimicry, claiming her twice over. She met
the cadence with gentle lifts of her hips—just enough withdrawal that the ridge of him rubbed the front wall of
her pussy, then sank again, welcoming him home.
Minutes eased by amid wet clicks, the slap of belly on belly underwater, the occasional splash over the pool lip.
Gradually he slid one hand between them, thumb strumming the hood of her clit. She jerked, nails biting his
shoulders, breath stuttering into his mouth. Another circling press and her channel spasmed, ripples rolling
along his buried length, coaxing a bead of pre-cum to weep inside her. He swallowed her shaky exhalation,
groaning back.
"I feel you throbbing," she murmured, voice trembling. "Feel you leaking. Makes me want to milk every drop."
Mark’s laugh came ragged. He shifted her slightly, lifting then letting gravity impale her again, slow steady drops
like a warm rain. Each seated plunge knocked a grunt from him, a kitten-cry from her. Heat coiled low in his
spine; balls drew up.
When her second orgasm unfurled it was tension released like loosened silk: her abdomen fluttered against him,
pussy squeezing in waves that dragged the first hot rope of seed from his cock. He held her face again, kissing
through spurts, groaning down her throat as he emptied, pulse after thick pulse painting her walls, water
swirling around their locked bodies.
Spent, he stayed inside her, softening only a little, senses floating. Vicky brushed damp hair back from his brow,
pressed a tiny kiss to the corner of his mouth, another to the tip of his nose. They breathed together,
heartbeats slowing.
Outside, wind rattled a branch against the cabin wall. Inside nothing existed but joined breath, shared heat, the
quiet inexorable whisper of want already planning what next they’d dare. |
