Page 27 of Sweet Silver Bells

He started to get to his feet, but Olivia wouldn’t have it, using her foot to push his chest back down, his head bopping aggressively against the floor, pain flooding behind his eyes.

There wasn’t time to nurse himself, to let the ache subside, because Olivia was once again standing over him, and her pants were a little bit lower from her kick and now, he couldn’t tear his attention away from how soft her skin looked, clean from the showers, healed from sleeping in his bed.

Thank God for that kick.

She was putting on a show, a moon shining bright for only him to see as she tugged on the bottom of her thick, brown, long-sleeved shirt, letting her hips sway back and forth, her long aphotic hair swaying behind her, voluminous, sticking to the wet parts of her mouth where his saliva still gleamed in the fragments of light navigating through the window and around the tall, out-of-control poinsettias that seemed intent on becoming their own jungle.

A moment later, the mistletoe rose again, catching the shirt that Olivia dropped to the floor, revealing a black lace bralette with no padding, her nipples pointed and pushing against the fabric just like his penis was still struggling against the constrictions of his pants.

Her torso was not long, not petite. She was so real. Someone who had been healing from pain, someone who sought comfort in his touch, someone whose body would soon be wrapped around his.

Hunter shook his head, and Olivia’s face fell.

“Why is your face doing that?” she asked. “Do you not like my body?”

“Olivia.” Hunter rushed up, his hands grabbing her hips, his fingers flexed around her ass.

If he were any other man, he would bite her right there, sink his teeth into that soft, supple flesh, maybe even drawing blood.

It would feel so good—she already felt so good.

“You don’t understand. I love everything about you. I have full devotion to your body.”

He placed his mouth on her bikini line, a gentle kiss.

“I love right here, especially. I cannot stop staring at it. I am the luckiest man to be chosen to be wrapped up in a tree with you for all eternity.”

Hunter pushed the little voice in the back of his head away, the one that told him that phrase wasn’t a joke, it wasn’t Olivia’s twisted term of endearment. He was at her entrance, completely in benediction of the darling before him.

With his teeth, Hunter pulled the black lace cloth down just a bit, until the pants still hanging onto the shape of her upper thighs stopped him.

“Mmmmm,” he groaned, seeing more skin and black curly hair like a vicious pillow, challenging him to come in, to get lower.

“No.” Olivia pushed the palm of her hand against his forehead. “Now you go.”

Hunter looked up at her, confused, before realization hit him.

He shuffled back away from her faster than he’d ever moved before, rivaling the speed of a shooting star, getting to his feet, standing so strong before Olivia, who sang songs of winter while the forest answered in blood.

Hunter's jacket, stained the haunting brown of the copper-smelling liquid, came off his shoulders and hit the floor. The mistletoe did not rise to give him the same service; there was no question of who the plant's favorite was.

Next was his shirt as he stood before her, smaller but still muscular arms, a small amount of curly chest hair to match the hair she had over her pelvis on display. There they were, feral animals, hurt and sitting in fear of their own, ready to comfort each other, ready to love each other.

“Set yourself free.” Olivia raised a challenging eyebrow.

“Yes, Olivia,” Hunter said, reaching down for the buckle, for the zipper, and letting the stretched fabric fly open. The extra space made him groan as his engorged penis jumped forward, still covered by his athletic gray boxers.

Olivia giggled and clapped, and the mistletoe writhed around her. One reaction happy, the other threatening.

Hunter wondered how much of that writhing botany was reacting to him, and how much was pulling from her subconscious.

“Are you sure?” Hunter asked. His hand rolled over his cock and his whole body tensed. Even if it was his touch, the excitement was from her teasing, even from looking at her ravishing body.

His eyes moved up from her hips to her belly button to her breasts, and then saw the gleam of the moon necklace. She held her shoulders back, presenting the token with pride, a prize, his prize.

Prize for what? You don’t deserve her.

Hunter pushed the dark thought out of his mind, but it came back.

You heal your grief over Sarah by supporting death, by supporting murder. By reveling in it. By letting your cock get hard while there's blood on both of your faces.

Hunter gulped, nerves swirling.

There was no question that he wanted this, wanted her, wanted to entangle his limbs with hers forever, but he had spent so long wondering what Sarah would think of his life, if she would approve. She wouldn’t approve of this.

He would have to move on completely. He couldn’t look back.

This is who you have to be for her, Hunter reminded himself. She needs you. You need her. She stepped out of the forest for you. You can step out of the shadow you live in for her.

“Why are you taking so long?” Olivia pouted.

“I just want to make sure you want this,” Hunter said, his fingers tapping against the waistband of his boxers. “I want to make sure it's not too quick, too fast.”

“Hunter,” Olivia whispered, her eyes sparkling and magical. She opened her mouth, and the sweetest note came out of her throat, caressing around his heart, promising him safety and letting him know that not only did she want this, but she genuinely cared for him as well.

“That haze,” Hunter murmured, “it’s so hard to think clearly when it’s there.”

“I’ve waited one hundred years in a tree for someone to set me free, Hunter. I’m ready. I’m ready for you.”

He closed his eyes and hummed like he’d had too many whiskeys.

You live in a fantasy now, Hunter. Embrace it.

Hunter opened his eyes, hungry, ready. Embrace it, he would.

The distance closed between them, Hunter finding Olivia’s lips.

It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t gentle; the kiss was fire sizzling after being sprinkled with water, furious and roaring as his hands found her torso, traveling up to her breasts, squeezing as her own found the band of his boxers and let his cock out for air as she pulled down, both their heads and mouths following as she rounded her back to reach and stroke him.

“Mmmm,” a deep guttural groan escaped his lips, and he pulled up for air. She was insatiable, unquenchable, and he ate up every flick of her wrist, every touch that started tender and then turned into a hard, pulsing grip.

Hunter got Olivia’s panties lower and slid up her thighs with his length, feeling a slickness there already waiting for him.

He had had enough of his pep talks, of his internal dialogue, and would take what he wanted, what was being freely given, gifted.

With that speed he’d found earlier, Hunter took Olivia’s full ass in his hands and hiked her up, her legs wrapping around his torso as their lips found each other over and over again.

His feet moved back, stepping on mistletoe but ignoring the sharp pain and the fresh blood he left on the floor before he walked into the hallway, hips, shoulders and elbows banging into the wooden walls as Olivia moaned and writhed on top of him, finding his dick in between her thighs right against her entrance.

They pushed through the doorway, entering his room as he threw her down on the bed.

She squealed and smiled from the sudden playfulness, her legs hanging off the bed with her toes pointed.

Hunter had been waiting for this. He was going to get so many answers as he stood between those pointed toes and moved down to his knees, grabbing her thighs and pulling her toward him.