Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
The choking lust in my throat expels on a groan. “Put me in.”
Biting her lip, she lifts my hard length from my stomach and angles it toward her entrance. Her fingers, soft and electric, trace the thick veins and broad head before feeding it into the tight clasp of her body.
My head tilts back, jaw clenching, and abdomen tightening beneath her as she slowly lowers, inch by inch, until fully seated.
“Fuck.” I throb inside her, the pleasure unbearable. “You feel so fucking good, Frankie.”
“You do, too.”
When she moves, it’s a curl of seductive motion, an erotic roll of her hips as she stares into my eyes, and I feel it—the electric current that crackles between us.
This is more than desire. It’s a primal, magnetic pull. A living, ravenous thing that grows with every kiss, every thrust, guiding our movements and aligning us perfectly—where our mouths meet, where our hands intertwine, and where I’m buried so deep as her heat pulses and tightens around me.
Every shared look inflames it further. Every touch sends shockwaves through our connection.
We fuck for hours, pushing the boundaries of our energy and stopping only for quick breaks to hydrate and eat.
I’m lost in the seduction of her body, in the way she matches my intensity, stroke for stroke, the push and pull, the clash of wills and desires that melds us so perfectly together.
This raw, carnal energy is as old as time yet uniquely ours. Every orgasm leaves us reeling, satiated, yet ever hungry and forever altered. Forever entwined.
Late into the night, she collapses on my chest, boneless and panting. I’m so relaxed beneath her, I couldn’t move her if I wanted to.
I’ve never known such peace. Such soul-deep joy.
How often have I sat in this barren, one-room cabin alone, missing my brothers, aching for company, for affection, for anything that might soothe my loneliness?
Every hunting season, from the moment I could shoot a crossbow, has seen me here.
Not once did I imagine losing my virginity in this place.
Now I want to lie here forever, just like this, with Frankie in my arms. Would it be so terrible if we stayed a week? Or even just one more day?
A pinching stab of guilt arrives with the thought.
I know how it feels to sit in that house of ghosts and wait for Frankie and my brother to return to me.
A week felt like a lifetime.
Leo has already endured two weeks of waiting, and it’ll take us another two weeks to hike back.
She stirs on my chest. “What about the moose?”
“It got away.”
“Oh, no.” Her sultry tone doesn’t hold a hint of regret. “I kept you from hunting.”
“Fuck that. You gave me the best day of my life. When we escape…” I kiss her head, tucking her close. “I’m going to find you the biggest bed in the most luxurious hotel and fuck you until you tire of me.”
“I don’t need a bed or a hotel. I just need you and Leo. Forever. Because I’ll never tire of you.”
“Go to sleep. We’ll start our journey back to him tomorrow.”
Two weeks later, Frankie and I crest an icy slope and stare out at the vast emptiness of the landscape.
As far as the eye can see in every direction, nothing exists but her and me.
My senses, however, tell me differently.
It’s an instinct honed by years of navigating this unforgiving terrain. The distinct outline of the jagged ridge to our right, the way the ground slopes gently downward on our left, the slight change in the snow’s consistency underfoot, the angle of the wind, the shift in the scents on the breeze—all of this tells me we’re nearing familiar territory.
Beside me, she tucks her gloved hand in mine and tilts her beautiful face heavenward, absorbing the pastel shades of blue and pink. “The sky is glowing.”
Not with snow or stars or northern lights. It shines with the promise of daylight.
“The days will grow longer going forward.”
“And warmer.” She smiles, head tipped back, watching the transformation.
As the rare arctic sunlight breaks through the cloud cover, it casts a celestial glow over everything it touches. Frankie is the centerpiece of this natural illumination.
The rays catch in her red hair, setting it ablaze with hues of gold and copper. Her green eyes, vibrant against the snow’s glare, sparkle with a luminance that reflects her inner resilience. Her cheeks, kissed by the cold, carry a natural blush that complements her vivid eyes and fiery hair.
Even after an arduous thirty-mile hike through ice and snow, her beauty remains untarnished. She embodies the raw, untouched allure of the Arctic—wild, breathtaking, and utterly authentic.
She’s impossibly, unreasonably captivating.
“I wonder if Leo is staring at the sky right now, feeling its warmth.” She steals a peek at me.
“You can ask him in a few hours.”
“Really? We’re that close?”
“Close your eyes and listen.”