The air around them was brisk and sharp. And the space between them inviting. Warm. And getting warmer as their simmering blood reached for the surface. In the dark cavern beneath the furs, enveloped in heat, Mellie ran her hands over his chest. Not gently, but with purpose. Her palms firm. Fingers plowing through the luxurious, silky mat of hair. Reveling in the broad expanse of Addison above her, the weight of his body pinning her down. Pressing her against hard, unyielding granite.

His mouth was damp and hot. Scalding compared to the dry, frozen tundra they were lost in. And his fingers… Searching. Seeking. Found their way to that secret place that had never been touched by anyone other than herself. Their cool tips spread her slick folds and slid easily against her. The contrast of his cold skin touching her, where she was melting and liquid, was wildly erotic and she lifted herself against his hand, yearning for more.

Addison’s touch was gentle. So gentle it was maddening. She’d gone breathless, her hands twisting frantically in the layers of his shirt and coat. That embroidered, delicate, satin coat that she loved. That she had slaved over to clean free of his blood. It had somehow become woven into the fabric of her mind, into all the pieces that made up who Addison had become to her. Something she could never have. That she could never afford. Something that called for her sacrifice. It was… He was… Glorious and fine. Strong and elegant. Fragile. Rich and sinful. And beyond her reach.

“Addison.” Mellie could hear desire in the sound of her own voice. The hunger and thirst that drove her to surge against him and beg for more. She didn’t want his fingers to be a whisper. She wanted them to be a statement. Something tangible and real. Bold and bald enough for her to remember. She wanted them to do more than soothe her. She needed them to fill her. For him to fill her. That hollow space between her legs where she throbbed and felt empty.

Mellie reached up and pulled his mouth back down to her, delving her hands into his hair. Threading them into the disheveled queue at his neck. And she could feel an urgency in his kiss that matched her own. Addison crushed himself against her, his free hand tangling itself into a knot of her hair and gripping her as if he would never let her go.

Deep and greedy, he swept his tongue through her mouth. He bent her, arched her, pulled her tighter against him. Harsh breaths raging from his nose and mouth, fanning her neck and face amidst grunts and groans that stirred her belly and made her intimate muscles clench and ache.

Reaching for the falls of his breeches, Mellie began to work open the buttons, and to her surprise he didn’t object. He pulled away only enough to give her room. And once they were open, he eagerly removed his hand from her own breeches and guided her, wrapping her fingers around him. The moment she touched him they both sighed. It was a sound borne from someplace buried within them and recognized their desperation.

Addison held her there and kissed his way to her ear, to suck on its lobe, before hiding his face in the darkness of her neck. Presumably to grapple with his own control. Mellie could feel the tension coming off of him in waves. His chest heaving in uneven, ragged breaths.

His skin was so soft. She hadn’t expected that. He was made of the finest, most luxurious thing she had ever known. Oh, Mother Nature was clever, indeed. For, it beckoned to be caressed. So that’s what Mellie did as she turned her face and whispered in his ear, her lips whisking across his skin. “I want you inside me, Addison,” and his breathing went even more chaotic.

He didn’t answer her. He only tilted his hips forward a little, causing him to move in her hand and she felt hard, thick veins slide inside the thin, silky skin that encased him. It was a wicked feeling that made parts inside her open up, ready for him. Mellie thought she might go mad from want if she didn’t have him right then.

Tightening her grip a little, she moved her hand over him. “Yes, touch me, Mellie,” He encouraged her as he brought his hand back and his long, adept fingers found their way again into her breeches, seeking out that sensitive, tight, tender spot. Only this time he was there was purpose as he stroked her. More pressure. And she felt her mouth silently form the word, “Yes.”

It wasn’t enough. Not even close. She wanted him, thick and hot, inside her. Sliding in and out of her wet heat. Mellie tried to push his breeches down further, to communicate her need, unable to say the words. But before she could, Addison wedged his leg between hers and moved his body to settle between them. He supported himself on his elbow, the fingers of his other hand still caressing her, and he seized her mouth in a ferocious kiss.

Suddenly, his fingers were sliding down and working their way inside her. One at a time, pressing and withdrawing and pressing again, until she finally felt full, and a pleasure that was not sharp or shocking, but guttural and profound, began to unfurl inside her.

Then Addison began moving above her. Thrusting himself in her hand. He pulled the bunched clothing that was between them away. Pushed her shirt up, exposing her stomach and breasts so he could look on her. So they could feel their bare skin skim across each others bodies.

And Mellie realized what he was doing. He was giving her what she needed. Taking what he needed. Without compromising her in a way he might regret. They were joined. And yet not. He was bedding her, and yet not. He would save that moment, she knew, for when they were no longer stranded in a cold, remote cave. For when he could linger on her, and she on him. For when blind need no longer controlled them.

Mellie placed her other hand around him, to cover more of his length. and Addison moaned and kissed her and rocked in her palms. His fingers inside her followed the rhythm he set as he pumped himself in her hands. Faster. Harder. His thumb on that nub of her that made her call out his name and him whisper hers.

They were in motion now and nothing could stop them. Their breathing was desperate as the pressure built and they clawed at each other. Aching. Needing. And then cresting in a wild, unrestrained chorus.

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