Page 17 of Mate Night Snack (Hollow Oak Mates #2)
KATNISS
T he kiss still burned between them, humming beneath her skin like lightning trapped just beneath the surface. Emmett had taken her hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to the moment, and neither of them looked back as they left the quiet of the tavern’s alley behind.
His cabin sat tucked deep in the woods, away from the town lights, half-swallowed by moss and shadow. It wasn’t big, but it was solid. Cedar siding, river rock chimney, windows that glowed like warm amber against the night.
He opened the door for her and let her step in first. She noticed the scent before anything else of woodsmoke, cedar, and something darker and wild. Him.
The space was simple. Worn leather couch, stone fireplace, a stack of tools resting by the door, half-finished repairs and sandpaper still dusting the edges of the floorboards. But it was warm. Lived in. Real.
Like him.
Emmett closed the door with a quiet click and then turned to her.
Katniss didn’t wait.
She crossed the room and cupped his face in her hands, kissed him again—desperate, messy, unfiltered. He growled low in his throat, hands sliding to her waist, gripping tight like he was holding back something bigger.
He was always holding back. But not now. Now he kissed her like he had nothing left to lose.
She pulled at the hem of his shirt, and he helped her, dragging the fabric over his head. The scars across his chest caught in the low light, stark against tanned skin and thick muscle.
She ran her fingers over the old one across his shoulder.
He shivered. “That was a lesson,” he said, voice rough. “The kind that sticks.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Only when I remember it.”
She leaned up and kissed the scar. Then kissed lower.
When he picked her up, she didn’t resist.
His hands slid under her thighs as he carried her to the bed tucked in the corner of the cabin. The quilt was old but soft, the sheets smelling faintly of sage and pine. He laid her down like she was breakable—and then looked at her like he wanted to ruin every part of that illusion.
Her jacket hit the floor. Then her shirt.
He paused when his hands reached the waistband of her jeans. “Katniss.”
She blinked. “Yeah?”
“If we start, I won’t stop.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Then don’t stop.”
His eyes darkened. That stormy, thunder-rolling gray-blue swallowed her whole.
He peeled off her jeans slow, taking in every inch of skin like it was a map only he could read. His hands were rough, calloused, but the way he touched her—her thighs, her hips, her ribs—felt reverent.
“You smell like sunshine and trouble,” he murmured, dragging his mouth across her stomach.
She gasped when his tongue flicked against her skin.
“Emmett.”
He settled between her legs, fingers teasing the edge of her panties. She was soaked through, her pussy aching for friction. When he slid them down, his growl deepened.
“Fuck, you’re perfect.”
She arched into him. “Then touch me.”
He did.
He dragged his tongue slowly between her folds, pausing to flick over her clit until she cried out, her fingers digging into the quilt. He licked her like he wanted to memorize the taste, each pass of his mouth sending sparks straight through her spine.
“You taste like heat,” he said against her. “Like you were made for this.”
Her thighs trembled. “Please,” she whispered.
“Please what?” he asked, teasing her entrance with the pad of his thumb.
“I need your cock.”
His breath sucked in as he skid his fingers further inside of her.
She didn’t look away. “I need you inside me.”
He climbed up her body, mouth crashing against hers, her arousal wet on his lips. She reached for the button of his jeans, hands fumbling.
He took over, yanking them down along with his boxers.
When she saw him, hard, thick, tip flushed, she nearly moaned just at the sight.
“Condom?” she asked, breathless.
He nodded and reached into the drawer beside the bed. She watched as he rolled it on, his hands trembling slightly.
Then he looked at her again. “Last chance.”
She pulled him down by the back of his neck and kissed him. That was answer enough.
He pushed in slow, stretching her inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt.
She gasped, nails clawing at his back.
“Emmett—”
“Tell me if I hurt you.”
“You didn’t. Don’t stop.”
He moved gently at first, rocking into her with long, deep strokes. Every drag of his cock inside her made her eyes roll back. He filled her completely, touched every place that ached. His breath came rough against her neck, lips brushing her ear.
“I’ve thought about this,” he murmured. “Since the first time you argued with me.”
She laughed against his mouth. “That was like five minutes after we met.”
“Exactly.”
Their bodies moved in rhythm, slow and aching, like they were trying to learn each other’s language through touch. She lifted her hips to meet his thrusts, the friction building between them like a storm breaking.
“Harder,” she breathed.
He obliged, snapping his hips with more force, his cock hitting deeper. The head of it rubbed just right, her pussy clenching around him, wet and tight.
“Oh, God?—”
His name left her lips as if she were calling to the beyond.
He leaned down and kissed her again, biting her lower lip, dragging another moan from her throat.
“I’m close,” she whispered.
“Come for me.” He reached between them and rubbed her clit, fast and steady.
She couldn’t hold it any longer, not with his thickness, motion, and now the added stimulation of his hands and sense of safety she felt being devoured by him.
She came with a cry, her body locking tight, waves of heat crashing through her. He followed with a groan, thrusting once more as he spilled inside the condom, his body collapsing carefully over hers like a shield.
They stayed like that for a long time.
His arm slipped under her waist, dragging her close, her face tucked under his chin.
He kissed her temple and let the quiet settle.
Eventually, her breathing evened. And when she finally drifted off, curled against his chest, the safety of his body faded as she dreamed of claws in the dark.