“You feel like home,” he murmured, voice rough with emotion. Then he started moving, long, rolling thrusts that dragged every thick inch along my walls. Not the punishing pace from before, but passionate, deliberate. Like he wanted me to feel every second of this.

I clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure built slow and deep. It was overwhelming.

The cool breeze teasing my nipples, the distant hoot of an owl, the wet slide of his cock in and out of my soaked pussy, the scent of pine and lake water mixed with our sex. Every thrust ground his pubic bone against my clit, sending sparks through...