Without You Here by Carter Ashby Page B

It should be enough for me, but it wasn't. Only two nights and I already knew that I wanted everything from him. Too much of him still belonged to his wife and I wanted it. All of it.
    I didn't say anything, then, though. We still had tonight. So I smiled and kissed him. And then we got out of the tub, dried off, and went to the living room to eat.
    There were hard wood floors all through the cabin. The walls were stained wood as well. The yellow light from the lamp on the side table cast the whole room in a dim glow. I didn't have anything else to wear except a towel. So Wyatt wore a towel, too, and we both laughed at ourselves. We'd come very ill prepared for this little sleepover.
    There was a TV mounted above the fireplace. We fell into a deep, soft sofa and Wyatt grabbed the remote and turned it on. I gnawed on a drumstick while he flipped channels. I pointed and made noises for him to stop when he passed Pretty Woman. The all-time perfect date movie! It was just getting started, too. And I could tell he'd seen it before because he looked at me with pleading in his eyes. I just shrugged. What could I say? We had to watch it. So he tossed the remote on the coffee table and went to work eating.
    We both ate a lot. Which was no wonder and a good thing too. He needed his energy for what I wanted to do with him that night. There were two lamps on and when we finished eating, he turned one off and snuggled in beside me. By the time Julia Roberts was kissing her way down Richard Gere's chest, I had my hand inside Wyatt's towel and was making him smile and groan.
    We had sex all over that cabin. First on the couch. Then in the kitchen. I was sitting on the counter while he fed me ice cream before he lost control of himself and took me right there. Then in the master bedroom where we left the blankets a tangled mess and fell asleep in each other's arms.
    I regretted that the most of anything that weekend. Falling asleep. But then, I'm not sure we could have possibly gotten enough of each other, even if we'd stayed awake. A shaft of sunlight pierced through a gap in the drapes and hit me full in the face. It was only six in the morning. So I turned my face into Wyatt's chest and willed myself to go back to sleep. I didn't, though. I couldn't. And soon, Wyatt was stirring. It thrilled me that his first movements in the morning involved pulling me closer against him and caressing my ass. I vaguely wondered if that was what he'd done with his wife all those years.
    I rolled on top of him. He was already hard between my thighs. His eyes weren't open yet, but his hands were on my breasts. I took his erection and slid down on him. He gasped and arched into me. Then he groaned. His eyes opened to slits and he smiled. His hand slid up to my neck and held me. "Ride hard, Ettie," he said in his morning voice, which was super sexy.
    I obeyed and thrilled at the sound of the headboard banging against the wall. I rode until I thought my legs would give out. Sweat dripped down my back and my hair clung to my damp forehead.
    Then he sat up and wrapped his arms around me. The change of angle sent me into an orgasm I hadn't realized was building. The best of my life, up until that point. I thought it would never end and, in the midst of it, I felt him go rigid and pulse inside of me. He cried out and cursed and squeezed me so tightly I couldn't breathe.
    At last we collapsed into each other. The way he clung to me I could tell he was sad. I could tell this was our last time. He laid back, pulling me on top of him. He brought the blanket over us and we dozed in and out for a while. Eventually I was getting too hungry to ignore it, and I knew the same was true for him. We had to get up and shower. We needed to clean up the cabin and then go scrounge up some breakfast. Then we had to get back to my car and pray to God it was still there and still in tact.
    We ended up going for my car before breakfast. We hadn't spoken hardly at all that morning. We'd