Page 59 of Mail Order Bride: A Psychological Thriller

I kiss her neck, and her breathing becomes heavy. She reaches behind, unclasps her bra, and flings it out of the way. She looks more than a little chilly. I pull up the blanket to cover her. “Cold?”

“Not a bit.” She smirks and unzips her pants, kicking them off with a flourish. Her eyes never leave mine as I slide them down her thighs, one foot and then the other.

She inhales sharply as I slide several fingers under the elastic of her panties. I inch them down a little, and she lifts her butt up in the air for me. “I want you so bad,” she says, her voice dripping with sex. As I work my tongue into her, she fists my hair.

Eventually, I let her push me away.

“This is the best honeymoon ever,” she says, pushing me onto my back. “I’m going to make sure of it.”

“I have no doubt.” I grab the back of her neck, easing her down, but she doesn't seem to want or need my help. This she's actually really good at.

We fuck like a couple of animals there in that meadow on that sunny day with a mild nip in the air. She is wild, more unrestrained and uninhibited than anyone I’ve ever known, save the dead. I lay on my back and watch the clouds, but all I see is her.