Page 115 of I Will Revel in Glory (Death by Daybreak MC 3)
We end up tumbling backwards together into a mossy patch, the ground quickly turning to mud on all sides of us. It’s been dry for so long that the earth is just gobbling up any available moisture. It’s soft and squishy and dirty as fuck.
Since we’re in love now, and our relationship has lost all of its taboo, I guess we need this sort of thing: mud and moss and rain. An element of wild, of unchained mother earth.
Colton reaches between us, still frantically kissing me and tasting like sweet rain and sin. He makes a sound of triumph as soon as my pants are undone, pulling back and curving his fingertips beneath the leather. With them wet the way they are, he has to peel the fabric down like it’s glued to my skin.
He doesn’t stop until he gets to my boots, removing them along with my socks, and then off go my pants. All the items end up in a pile at the base of the tree.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he slips out of his vest and t-shirt.
“Getting naked. I want you like a man wants a woman. Just that. Just me and you and nothing else.” He stands up and kicks his own boots off, peels his socks away, shucks that perfect denim.
I do the same, sitting up and slipping out of my jacket, my shirt, my bra.
Sin comes down on me hard, pinning my wrists into the mud and dropping his mouth to the painful points of my nipples. Not only is it cold and wet, but oh my God, the pregnancy hormones have turned my breasts into equal sources of pain and pleasure. When I struggle to pull my wrists from his grip, he lets me, instinctively realizing my need to cling to him.
I even scream when he bites down on one of my nipples, grabbing his head and forcing it more tightly against me. His mouth eats at my tits like they’re a delicacy, switching from one to the other as I gather him close and encourage him to give me more, more, more.
While he’s at it, he puts his hot shaft up against my folds, thrusting against my clit. The head of his dick meets my clitoris over and over, until I wonder if I might actually come from that alone. That’s what he wants, I bet.
He really is an addict.
“You’re so beautiful, Gidge,” he whispers, lifting up his head, blue hair dripping across his forehead. “Worth waiting for. Worth sharing. Worth my life. I’d give it up for you, you know that right?”
“I know,” I choke out, and his mouth clashes against mine, sword to sword, sparks flying, a fight of tongues and teeth and lips. Sin pulls back, kissing frantically down my neck as I writhe against our mossy cushion. Up above us, I can see resurrection ferns sprouting from the tree’s trunk.
You can survive without water, but isn’t it better when you’re sated, when you’re fed? You can survive so much, but you shouldn’t have to just survive. You should be able to thrive.
The fronds sway in the breeze as Sin kisses down my body, licking rainwater from my skin until he finds the needy bud of my clit. He swirls his tongue around it, tracing down my folds to my opening. He even runs that naughty heat across my rear entrance before returning back to my clit.
He works me up until I’m coming hard, wanting him and begging him to slide into me the way he likes.
“Please Sin, please,” I whisper, shuddering and shaking with the overwhelming surge that lances through my body. Again, like lightning. We are a storm, me and Sin. A perfect motherfucking storm.
Rather than enter me as I’m coming, he just watches me, studying my face as I lie naked beneath him, the most vulnerable I have ever been.
“You’re perfect,” he breathes, his voice catching on the words. “So perfect.”
He waits for my contractions to slow down, kissing me again. I wrap my arms around him as he works my mouth with slow, languorous movements. We have all the time in the world, his kisses tell me. We will be together forever.
I love it, too. Just as much as I loved the dirty, obscene nature of our relationship before. It makes sense, for things to change. Stagnation is not an acceptable response to fear of change. Change must happen. Sometimes, it’s good. Sometimes, it’s terrible. We don’t get to choose, but anything is better than being mired in a single place.
Sin finally, blessedly, reaches between us, pushing himself into me with a slow, careful precision that allows me to feel the full shape and length of him, allows my silken muscles to conform to his cock.
He looks at me as he does it, too, his hard body and all of his tattoos on display. Even the bandages that cover his still-healing wounds are beautiful, a reminder of how fragile, how brief life and happiness can really be—a reminder to savor and love every, simple happy moment.
