heat. Felicity threw her head back. Sensation consumed her. Hunter filled her, buried the length of his shaft in her. Every stroke was a burst of heat spreading through her limbs, tingling from head to foot. Their bodies moved together; she thrust back, meeting him stroke for stroke. Hunter bowed his head to nip at her neck, and Felicity cried out softly, a cry drawn from her hawk as much as from her.
Rippling waves of pleasure mounted in her, built to fevered heights, and then orgasm shuddered through her. Hunter's body arched over her and he gave a great cry, almost a roar, voicing his own ecstasy as her reaction to her pleasure sent him over the edge too. They rode it out together, until finally they came down in a slow ebbing descent, relaxing onto the fire-warmed furs, side by side.
"I hope you know," Felicity murmured at last, when she could pull a coherent thought together, "that I may never move again."
"Good?" Hunter asked softly, giving her shoulder a light nibble.
"Nnnghhh."
He got up to retrieve a blanket from the bed. Felicity stayed where she was, though she bestirred herself enough to roll over and expose her backside to the fire's heat. She would have to recommend this particular hypothermia cure—she felt warm through and through. Ten out of ten, she thought sleepily. Definitely a success.
Hunter draped a blanket over her and then snuggled under it himself, curling up against her on the furs.
"Well?" Felicity asked sleepily. "Did you see any?"
"Huh?" Hunter murmured, rousing slightly.
"Bruises," she said, grinning. "Oh, weren't you looking?"
Hunter snorted and, under the blanket, gave her a light pat on her naked ass. Felicity giggled and burrowed more closely against him as sleep came to claim her.
***
It was an incredible weekend. The only time the entire weekend that either one of them put on clothes was when Hunter had to go outside and get more wood for the fire.
Of course, Felicity had no clothes to put on, except an old shirt of his, worn soft with washings, that she wore if she felt chilly.
But, for the most part, "chilly" wasn't a problem. They lounged around in his big bed, and he told her about his life in the woods. He loved studying animal behavior, and knew the names of all the different kinds of birds that came to the bird feeders around his yard.
Felicity, in turn, told him about her life in the city, making him laugh with her stories of demanding clients and fabric shipments gone wrong.
And they made love all over the cabin, everywhere, in every position. He took her on the table; he licked her to heights of rapture while she sprawled in the chair; they even tried making love on the porch in the sunshine (but ended up finishing inside—it was simply too chilly yet). She'd never realized it was possible to have this much sex in one weekend. No, check that: this much glorious, amazing sex.
And then she woke early, snuggled against Hunter, as the cabin filled with the gray light of dawn, and thought, Oh my God, it's Monday morning.
She pulled herself carefully out of bed. Hunter didn't wake. Felicity looked down at him, sleeping soundly, curled around the warm place where she'd been. She couldn't just leave without saying goodbye, could she? That felt awful.
But she didn't want a scene. She didn't want him to beg her to stay, and God knew she didn't want to descend to begging him to come back to the city with her. She'd known from the beginning that this wasn't permanent. He was where he needed to be, and now she needed to go back to where she needed to be.
Moving quietly so as not to wake him, she looked around until she found a pad of paper and a pencil. Carefully she scribbled a short note:
Dear Hunter,
Thank you again for saving my life. This has been the most wonderful weekend I've ever had. I'm so sorry it's over. But my business needs me, and I know you have to stay here in the woods, where you're happy. And I need to get back to the city, where I'm happy.
If you
Rippling waves of pleasure mounted in her, built to fevered heights, and then orgasm shuddered through her. Hunter's body arched over her and he gave a great cry, almost a roar, voicing his own ecstasy as her reaction to her pleasure sent him over the edge too. They rode it out together, until finally they came down in a slow ebbing descent, relaxing onto the fire-warmed furs, side by side.
"I hope you know," Felicity murmured at last, when she could pull a coherent thought together, "that I may never move again."
"Good?" Hunter asked softly, giving her shoulder a light nibble.
"Nnnghhh."
He got up to retrieve a blanket from the bed. Felicity stayed where she was, though she bestirred herself enough to roll over and expose her backside to the fire's heat. She would have to recommend this particular hypothermia cure—she felt warm through and through. Ten out of ten, she thought sleepily. Definitely a success.
Hunter draped a blanket over her and then snuggled under it himself, curling up against her on the furs.
"Well?" Felicity asked sleepily. "Did you see any?"
"Huh?" Hunter murmured, rousing slightly.
"Bruises," she said, grinning. "Oh, weren't you looking?"
Hunter snorted and, under the blanket, gave her a light pat on her naked ass. Felicity giggled and burrowed more closely against him as sleep came to claim her.
***
It was an incredible weekend. The only time the entire weekend that either one of them put on clothes was when Hunter had to go outside and get more wood for the fire.
Of course, Felicity had no clothes to put on, except an old shirt of his, worn soft with washings, that she wore if she felt chilly.
But, for the most part, "chilly" wasn't a problem. They lounged around in his big bed, and he told her about his life in the woods. He loved studying animal behavior, and knew the names of all the different kinds of birds that came to the bird feeders around his yard.
Felicity, in turn, told him about her life in the city, making him laugh with her stories of demanding clients and fabric shipments gone wrong.
And they made love all over the cabin, everywhere, in every position. He took her on the table; he licked her to heights of rapture while she sprawled in the chair; they even tried making love on the porch in the sunshine (but ended up finishing inside—it was simply too chilly yet). She'd never realized it was possible to have this much sex in one weekend. No, check that: this much glorious, amazing sex.
And then she woke early, snuggled against Hunter, as the cabin filled with the gray light of dawn, and thought, Oh my God, it's Monday morning.
She pulled herself carefully out of bed. Hunter didn't wake. Felicity looked down at him, sleeping soundly, curled around the warm place where she'd been. She couldn't just leave without saying goodbye, could she? That felt awful.
But she didn't want a scene. She didn't want him to beg her to stay, and God knew she didn't want to descend to begging him to come back to the city with her. She'd known from the beginning that this wasn't permanent. He was where he needed to be, and now she needed to go back to where she needed to be.
Moving quietly so as not to wake him, she looked around until she found a pad of paper and a pencil. Carefully she scribbled a short note:
Dear Hunter,
Thank you again for saving my life. This has been the most wonderful weekend I've ever had. I'm so sorry it's over. But my business needs me, and I know you have to stay here in the woods, where you're happy. And I need to get back to the city, where I'm happy.
If you
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