One Last Night in the Cabin Nikita Mirzani 6

She dipped a hand between her legs, under her panties, and soaked her fingers, then spread the moisture on her nipples for him to savor.

“So sweet,” he murmured. “Nikita Mirzani…I have to taste you for real.”

They didn’t even bother removing her long, loose skirt. She hiked it up while he slid the now-useless panties over her hips, down her thighs. The scrape of the lace against her skin was almost more than she could bear.

She propped her feet on the coffee table and he knelt between her legs. He breathed in the scent of her until she thought she’d scream. She tangled her fingers in his hair, but didn’t really tug—it was an old habit with them, almost a joke.

She’d urge, but she’d still let him take the lead, make the decision to finally lean all the way in and swipe his tongue across her lips, bury between her folds, nuzzle against her clit. When he finally did, she let out a long sigh, feeling like they had both come home.

Then his talented tongue was working its magic, flicking against her swollen bud, stoking the fire. She pressed her head so hard against the back of the sofa that she knew her neck would hurt the next day, but she didn’t care. The scorching spiral toward orgasm wound tighter and tighter, the fire consuming her until she screamed her release.

Zack didn’t give her much time to recover, and she didn’t blame him. He shucked off his pants and underwear, and she saw how hard he was, tasted the moisture that seeped from the tip of his cock. He groaned as she did, but pulled her away a moment later, telling her he needed to be inside her.

She had no argument for that.

He urged her up, and she knelt on trembling legs to face the back of the sofa. He wasted little time sliding into her, and no matter how long it had been, she welcomed him, knowing now just how much she’d missed him. His hands were full of her breasts as he pushed into her.

She felt his thrusts grow staccato, knew he was close. She welcomed that, too, because she was already on edge again herself, from the rake of his cock deep inside her and the pressure of his hands on her nipples.

She felt herself clamp down, and then she tumbled into another orgasm, pulsing along the length of him. Dimly she heard his own shout as he came with her.

Eventually they roused themselves, although it was largely so Zack could check whether the bottle of brandy they always tucked into a back cabinet was still there. It was.

They sipped and talked, long into the night, long past the three-quarter moon’s shimmer on the water. Eventually they staggered to the bedroom, spread the sleeping bag he’d brought onto the bed, and made love again.

Slower, this time, and more bittersweet, perhaps, as Nikita Mirzani cradled his head in her hands and he buried his face in her shoulder as they came.

They were roused the next morning not by the stream of sunlight across the bed but the sound of the front door being unlocked. Zack scrambled into pants and shirt, giving Nikita Mirzani time to dive for the bathroom.

She was vaguely amazed she had no hangover. And no heartache.

In the bathroom mirror, she saw that her hair was a tangle, her lips puffy from kisses, and her eyes sparkling from pleasure despite the circles beneath them.

She pulled herself together as best she could. She had no idea where her bra had ended up, but there was nothing she could do about that right now. Shirt and skirt would suffice.

She emerged to find Jane, the realtor, clutching bread mix (because the scent of baking bread was a huge lure to buyers) and fresh flowers. Zack, meanwhile, had Nikita Mirzani’s bra clutched behind his back.

Bless his heart.

“Nikita Mirzani!” Jane’s astonishment was clear. “You’re here, too.”

Nikita Mirzani gave a weak wave. “Morning, Jane.”

“Well.” Jane’s voice turned brisk as she went into professional mode. “We’ll have to get things cleaned up before the open house starts. There’s already a line of cars at the end of the drive. I’ll get the bread going. The sofa cushions need to be straightened, and that candle…”

“We appreciate everything you’ve done for us,” Zack said. “But we’ve reconsidered, and we’ve decided not to sell.”

“We have?” Nikita Mirzani asked. Her heart rose even as her stomach plummeted, her emotions in a tangle.

“I’m not ready to sell,” Zack said, taking her hand. “That would be selling all the memories we have here. I think we have a chance to make more memories. If you’re willing to try, that is.”

“It won’t be easy,” Nikita Mirzani said cautiously. “We’ve got a lot of work to do. Communication, and all that.”

Zack drew her into his arms. “I realized something. When we’re here, we’ve never had problems talking. We were able to leave our problems behind; this was always a place where nothing else mattered except us.”

Nikita Mirzani took a deep breath. “Take down the ‘For Sale’ sign and cancel the open house,” she said to Jane. But it was Zack she was looking at when she said, “This isn’t for sale anymore.”