I don't stop. I keep licking, keep stroking inside her, drawing out her pleasure until she's sobbing and pushing at my head because it's too much.
I kiss my way back up her body, positioning myself at her entrance. My cock is hard again, aching, and when I push inside in one long thrust, we both groan at the sensation.
She's impossibly tight after so many orgasms, her body oversensitive and clenching around me. I have to move slowly at first, letting her adjust, but then she wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me deeper.
“Don't hold back,” she says, her voice breaking into song again—wordless, primal, the sound of a sirena who has stopped managing what she gives. “I want everything. I want you to fuck me like you've been dreaming about for four years.”
The words break something in me. I thrust harder, deeper, driven by the sound of her voice, by the way she arches beneathme and takes everything I give her. My cock finds angles that make her gasp and sing, the flexibility of my shifted form allowing me to stroke places deep inside her that make her shake.
“Like this?” I ask, my voice rough. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes—god, yes—don't stop?—”
“Don't stop singing,” I tell her. “Never stop singing for me.”
I shift my weight, changing the angle, and she cries out as I hit something that makes her whole body convulse. I do it again, and again, each thrust deliberate and deep.
Sweat is mixing with the lake water on our skin, making us slide against each other. The wet sound of our bodies moving together fills the alcove, obscene and perfect.
“Touch yourself,” I say. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”
She slides her hand between us, her fingers finding her clit. I can feel the movement of her hand against my body as I thrust, can feel the way she tightens around me as she works herself higher.
“That's it,” I say. “Let me see you. Let me hear you.”
Her voice rises, breaking into frequencies that make my vision blur. I'm close—so close—but I want her to come first. I want to feel her fall apart around me.
“Muir,” she moans my name.
“Do it,” I say. “Come for me.”
She does, her voice rising in a final note that seems to hang in the air. Her body clamps down around my cock so hard it borderson pain, and I follow her over the edge. We cling to each other as the pleasure crashes through us, my release filling her again, her voice singing us both through it.
I collapse beside her, both of us breathing hard, the water lapping gently at our feet. Her voice has gone quiet, but I can still feel the echo of it in my bones.
For a long moment, we just lie there, tangled together, our bodies still trembling with aftershocks.
Then she turns her head to look at me, her dark eyes soft in the moonlight.
“You came,” she says quietly.
“You called,” I answer. “I'll always come when you call.”
She reaches up and touches my face, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw, the place where my human features blend into something else.
“I know,” she says.
I pull her closer, and she comes willingly, tucking herself against my side. We stay like that as the night moves toward morning—held by the water, sheltered by the stone, finally home in the only place that ever mattered.
Each other.
CHAPTER 11
CORA
The next bonfirehappens three nights later.
We arrive together, no pretense, no careful distance, just Muir’s hand at the small of my back as we walk down the shore path toward the gathering.