Wonderland Ch. 05

He waited as much as he could before he retreated slowly, pulling back through the torn veil before plunging in again. He leaned down and kissed away her tears, not pulling away when she wrapped her arms around his neck and tentatively turned up her hips to greet his assault.

He took her slowly at first, whispering softly into her ear, well aware that the words probably weren't coherent, his hands running over her body to soothe her as he thrust into a beautiful rhythm that she slowly began to return. Eventually her lock down on his neck loosened and he cried out when her nails sunk into the flesh of his back.

Instantly the mood changed from gentle to impatient and needy, the passion rolling off of them both as they sought to claim and possess every inch of the other's skin. Their thrusts grew shallower and erratic, a rushed beating that was almost brutal as their thighs slapped together. It wasn't long after when he knew he couldn't hold on for much longer.

In an act of desperation, he gripped her by the backs of her knees and lifted up, pushing into her with a fury that had beads of sweat flinging from his skin. Within seconds, a low moan escaped her throat and he watched as she trembled and jerked beneath him, accepting his maddening thrusts until finally – she exploded. The scream rang in his ears long after, the skin at his thighs stinging as his sweat mingled with the cuts her nails given him. "Good girl, Kitten," he chuckled breathlessly as her muscles jumped and twitched around his cock. "So beautiful."

Her eyes were so black that he could only barely see the small rings of green around the expanded pupils, and he chuckled when they blackened completely as his large swollen tip brushed against the spongy flesh deep within her. He repeated the angled thrust once, twice, and watched her shatter again on the third with a smile.

Locking her ankles behind his back, he rode through her orgasm, biting at her neck and lips as the heat began to build up within his heavy balls. His eyes rolled back when she gave her inner muscles a tightening squeeze, and knew he was lost.

With a growl that reminded him of a wild animal, he came inside her, jerking against her hips as his seed spilled into that empty womb and claimed her as no one else had before. His body shook with the strength of his release and he shakily lowered himself down to his elbows, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

Her palms gently soothed over the scratches on his back, her lips pressing softly against the side of his neck as she came down from her high. He buried his spent cock deeper into their mess inside of her, holding her body tightly to him as they struggled to catch their breath.

Sometime later, Thatcher turned her head towards his with shaky fingers and claimed her mouth, fighting a smile as a whimper escaped. She dug her fingers deep into his damp hair, keeping his lips to hers as their tongues met and dueled. Slowly they began to rock together, not needing to say a word.

When she finally broke the kiss, Thatcher met Tempest's emerald green eyes and smiled softly down into her glowing, upturned face.

Thatcher sat up swiftly, gasping hard for air. His senses returned slowly, his eyes darting around the forest as he realized it had all been a dream. With a heavy sigh, he prodded the dying fire to reignite the embers as he wiped the sweat from his face and neck, ungluing his hair from his skin.

After the fire had built back up he leaned back against the tree, closing his eyes in thought. Thatcher licked his lips experimentally and wasn't surprised when he tasted only salt from his potato chips, not cherries.

Seconds later he whipped them open again when he realized that the warm wet heat that bathed his upper thighs and torso wasn't caused by the fire. Swearing loud enough to make his voice echo, he stood and undressed, tossing his soiled pants and boxers before walking half-naked towards the mountain stream not but a couple paces from his camp, knowing the ice cold water would be a welcomed reprieve.

Five miles away, Tempest Cohen stared wide-eyed at the white tiled wall of her shower, washing away her sweat, tears, and humiliation in water as cold as she could stand, plagued with images of an act that had seemed entirely too real to be just a dream.

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