She eased herself down onto my cock slowly as she opened up for me. “You okay?” I whispered, sweeping her hair off over the shoulder farthest from the sparks and embers. It had died down quite a bit, but no fucking way was I letting anything harm that body. Never, ever, ever.

“Yes, perfect,” she said. She had her hands planted on my chest, side by side over my pecs, and as I hit her cervix, she tightened her grip on me slightly, but then relaxed.

“Your knees okay?” I asked, glancing down, running my hand down her bent leg, slipping my fingers between her calf and the back of her thigh. “Want me to put down a blanket?”

She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Oh, you. Stop worrying. Just let me have a little fun.”

She reached past me, over my head, to a chocolate bar that she’d left on the deck chair. She unwrapped it slowly, her eyes downcast, carefully unfolding the shiny foil wrapper until it was on the paper, flat in her palm. This she put on the warm rocks at the edge of the pit. Every fucking time she moved—every half inch of an adjustment—made me want to roll her right back over and fuck her until she couldn’t take it anymore, until I’d given her everything I had, until I had filled her with my cum, until she was dripping with me. “You’re not making this easy,” I told her, reaching up to pinch her nipples between my thumb and forefinger. My middle finger fell on a depression on the side of her breast, where her bra had been. There was so much I’d never thought about—things like that, how tight her bra was, the angry places where the underwire dug into her. I ran my fingertips over that. “I don’t like this. I don’t like anything that hurts you.”

She laughed. “You got a better idea for all-day support?” she asked. As she did, she maneuvered her feet so that the tops were flat on my thighs, so that she was in a kind of nameless and sexy yoga pose. The Kneeling Queen, The Worshiping Goddess. I ran my hands up her ass, up her back, and then trailed them back down her arms. “I just want you like this. No bras. Maybe no panties. Just you naked forever.”

“Make me a kept woman? Ready for you any time?” she asked as she broke off a piece of the chocolate bar.

“Yeah. Kept. Safe. Mine.”

She answered with just her smile, which said, You beast. Then she turned her attention to the chocolate. She dipped her fingers into the melted rectangle, like a block of finger paint. All five fingers, thumb to pinkie, got dipped like strawberries. When they were all covered, she placed her fingertips to my sternum and then made a long, five-lined streak down my chest. Like war paint, like graffiti. She dipped her finger into the chocolate again and put it into my mouth. I sucked it clean in an instant, greedy for her. Fucking desperate.

I started to find my rhythm inside her from below. I took hold of her ass, which fit like it was fucking made for me to grip. Every drive made her nipples bounce. And then she fucking painted those in chocolate, too.

She took her hair into a ponytail and bent down over me. My cock began to slide from her, but I was big enough to keep my head in all the time. She licked the line that her pinkie had made off of my chest—a long, ballbusting, openmouthed lick with wide eyes, cast up to mine.

“Fuck, Rosie,” I said, freezing where I was, buried deep inside her. She was soaked from her orgasm, and I could feel her wetness coming down onto my balls. I drove my first two fingers between our bodies until I touched the lips of her pussy. I got my own finger paint from her, and I added it to my chest—a fine, shiny streak next to the chocolate.

She placed her tongue to my chest, and in one fucking mind-blowing sweep, licked up herself and a streak of chocolate. Fucking A. I just couldn’t take it anymore, going so slow. I took her by the shoulders and straightened her up. The shift in position made my balls tighten, and I took her nipple in my mouth.

“Greedy.”

I didn’t take my mouth off her as I nodded. Because fuck yeah, I was greedy. Greedy for every single thing she was.

When I’d licked her clean, I pushed her up to sitting. She took all of me, and I could see a little flicker of pain in her face. Made me fucking crazy to know I was in her so deep that it hurt. “Listen,” I told her, running my thumb over her cheek. She pressed it into my palm and put a kiss to my fingers. “If you let me come inside you again, we’re doing this thing for real. One time is one time. But twice, that’s for keeps.”

Her body stiffened slightly, and I liked that, too. I liked feeling that she understood I was dead fucking serious. That she was my best friend, and those were the goddamned stakes.

“What does that mean?” she asked softly. She put one of her fingertips in her mouth and used that wetness to clean some more chocolate from my chest.

“It means I’m not just fucking you to fuck you,” I told her, increasing the intensity—but not the speed—of my thrusts. I felt her cervix at the end of my cock with every drive. “It means that nothing will ever be the same for us.”

“I can’t lose you,” she said, almost through a gasp.

“You won’t.”

“Promise?”

Ten thousand words wouldn’t have done justice to how strongly I felt, so I didn’t say a single one. Instead, I flipped her back over away from the fire and bore down on her hard, until my balls slapped against her ass. When I had her panting, I slowed down and pinned her neck back with the Y of my thumb and fingers. I nudged her cheek with my nose. “Means I’m serious. It means you’re mine.”

“I am. I’m yours.”

The fire crackled, and somewhere out in the woods an owl shrieked. She looked up at the stars and smiled, and then pulled me close to her. My natural instinct took over, and I began those possessive, ceaseless drives that had busted the wall. All I could think was, this is how it was always supposed to be. Her pussy tightened around me, and I felt the first wave of precum spill into her. I inhaled that pure, sweet smell that was hers, and hers alone. I caged her in and fucked her like I loved her. Because I did. And always would.

As I growled with the first wave of my orgasm, as I roared out her name, she placed her lips to my ear and whispered, “For keeps, Max. For keeps.”

For fucking keeps.

* * *

We lay in the grass under the stars for a long time, until the fire died down and I felt Rosie shiver in my arms. “Bed?”

She got up on her elbows. Her eyes looked sleepy, and her hair was messy. I pulled a blade of grass from her bangs and let it fall from my fingers onto my chest. She batted her lashes, like it was hard to keep her eyes open. “Yes, definitely.”

“I’m not sleeping in the guest bedroom, tiger,” I said and tugged on her lip with the pad of my thumb.

Her laugh came with a fucking awesome nostril flare. “Definitely not.”

I got up first and then helped her up to standing. I wrapped her in the quilt, put on my boxers, and then made sure the fire was out before taking her hand. It was like I just couldn’t get near enough to her, though, and I put my arm around her as we headed inside.

When we opened the door, we found Cupcake sleeping peacefully on her side in her crate, her little tummy rising and falling with quiet snores. Rosie pressed her finger to her lips to tell me to be quiet, and as noiselessly as I could, I closed the front door, lifting up on the knob to stop the hinges from squeaking like they usually did.

Rosie kept her blanket wrapped tight around her and tiptoed over to Cupcake. Her eyebrows furrowed and she frown-smiled—mashing up her features in the cutest possible way. She’s so cute, Rosie mouthed. Gently, she touched Cupcake’s foot with her fingertip, reaching through the metal door like I had at the vet’s. Cupcake didn’t wake up, but instead, she gave an almighty Wonder Woman stretch, paws out in both directions like she was flying through the air, accompanied by a grumbling groan. She made some adjustments of her little mouth and then snuggled her face back into the blanket and started snoring a little more loudly. I made my way over to the crate too, and as Rosie came back up to standing, she nestled her cheek against my chest. And I pressed my lips to the top of her head.

She’d said I was heaven when I was making her come. But no way. She was.