Author's Note: I'm baaaack. Not that I really went anywhere, but I thought you'd all be happy to know I come with an update! But before I get into that I have a couple pretty important things to say:
First, I want you all to know I am so grateful for all the support you have shown me. Your reviews are beyond amazing and the alerts and follows? I cannot say enough for how supportive the Everlark fandom has been. This is my first dip into the fandom & I've had nothing but love. Thank you so, so much from the bottom of my heart. With that comes my apology. Due to my heavy schedule it's not easy for me to reply to every review I get - although I do try. So if you don't get response please don't assume I don't care because I do, so much. I am so grateful for even the smallest review of "update soon!" They all inspire me greatly, please know that.
Second, this could not be done without my two betas. Ivory, my original beta, who fed me encouragement after encouragement to continue. Thank you. She has since had real life kind of take over, but I still speak with her and her support for this story in unmatched. And then there is miss Court81981, who's beta powers are of the unhuman variety. She is so amazing. There aren't enough words to describe her perfection and support, especially in this chapter. She put me at such ease during my "M" rated writing and I can't thank her enough for that. Now everyone remember this: after you're done reading my chapter you need to race over and read Crash My Party. She puts my writing to shame, she's so good.
Basically, I have had the best support team during this story and venture into Everlark, I just can't wait to write more stories!
Sorry for the terribly long AN, but maybe not. It all needed to be said, but it's done and we're at chapter ten! Almost halfway through the story! Woohoo! Now, peeps, be warned this story is rated M for a reason and this chapter starts it. So, not work appropriate(even though I'm updating from work - on my personal laptop, but whatevs) and definitely NOT for young readers.
You've been warned, now enjoy!
Summary: There are also three types of people in Dawson, Texas: those who are trying to flee, those who embrace their small town fate, and the Mellarks. Mellark Ranch; largest cattle ranch South of Dallas, employer of ranch hand, Katniss Everdeen, and home of Ohio State Buckeye running back, Peeta Mellark. And Peeta Mellark is coming home today.
Lone Star State of Mine
Chapter Ten: Want To
"You've got a dream of a degree and a shirt that smells like me."
Sex.
The word itself causes a commotion.
It's the thing everyone and no one is talking about. If your friends ask, you're basically a champion in the homerun derby. If your parents mention the subject, you haven't even been called out of the dugout yet. If you're a male you make your "number" higher, but females tend to round down. (The double standard is hated, but still very much in tact.) If you claim you're waiting for marriage you're a traditional quack — or just ugly. But if you're fast and loose with the idea you're obviously getting paid for it.
And that's just in Dawson. The verdict is still out on the rest of the world.
In its barest form — pun intended — it's how the population extends. Of course, most of the time that's a reaction to the action hardly anyone under the age of 21 pays attention to. And it's usually one that garnishes the looks of pity and petty gossip from the same crowd. We all went to school with that girl who got pregnant before she actually wanted to. Hell, some schools produce higher teen pregnancy statistics than future college graduates.
Ours was Cashmere Lewis.
She was in high school while I was still in middle school, but her reputation hung like a black flag of "this could be you" for years after she left Dawson High School. Left, not graduated. She got pregnant in her junior year. Apparently the father was more interested in Friday night touchdowns and Saturday night keggers to actually take responsibility for his unborn child. Not that he actually claimed it has his. Cashmere was devastated, or so the story goes. Her parents even more so. They took Cashmere and her older brother, Gloss, out of Dawson before the baby was even born.
No one mentions them much anymore.
Thus continues the belief that sex leads to nothing but problems. And you can't mention problems without mentioning love. Every boy is in love until they get what they want from their lover. Or so we're taught. Girls' chastity belts seem to loosen at the mere word. Girls who sleep around without love are simply easy. Girls who are in love are simply expressing said emotion.
Again, they're all stereotypes. But we cling to them.
I cling to them.
Because living secondhand has always been my way. Hearing stories and making assumptions is easier than actually going out and gathering the scars myself. I have enough scars without letting love, and all its attachments, make a few dents of its own.
In fact, a lot like love, I have never really thought much about sex. I'd listen to Gale's stories and try to tone out the really graphic moments. I'd hear gossip in the hallways about who had slept with whom over the weekends. I'd even eavesdrop on several conversations better Jackie and Samantha about different hookups happening on the ranch. But my actual knowledge on the subject is not much past the secondhand education from classmates and awkward classes with our P.E. teacher in the eighth grade.
That need everyone talks about?
Well, I suppose I'd be an out and out liar if I said I never felt it in some way, but my experiences on my own have been less than…stellar. The whole idea embarrasses me so much that it hinders even the shadow touches I've dared at night. I've awoken from my far share of incredibly vivid dreams feeling like I've been caught in with my hand in the cookie jar. Even the memory of it in the early morning house causes me to blush instantly.
Needless to say, in touch with my sexuality, I am not.
And yet here I stand at my front door, pulling Peeta Mellark against me in a way that would cause all the church ladies to faint. I know what I want, but in the broadest of terms. I want Peeta. I want to feel completely connected to this boy who has managed to turn my world on its head in a matter of months. He's awoken something in me that I didn't even know existed. And looking back I realize this isn't as sudden as I feel it is.
Before this summer the slightest mention of him usually piqued my attention. I noticed him in a crowded room. I secretly sympathized with him, on some level, when Gale would mention his distaste for him. I silently wished him the absolute best when he left Dawson in the pursuit of a football scholarship. Peeta Mellark was always the boy off in the distance that I associated with my salvation.
His family offered me security and work without pity. Mr. Mellark had been the first to open his arms to me, but Peeta instantly followed suit. He didn't look at me like some charity project. He didn't treat me with kid gloves because my father had just died. No, he understood I didn't want that. Peeta understood me long before I realized — long before I took notice. He simply showed me around the ranch, showed me a few tricks of the trade, and then let me stretch my legs.
Peeta didn't hover, but he acknowledged. And in return I started to do the same. In the halls of Dawson High we were in two separate worlds, but at the ranch we were on the same field. And this was where we truly wished to be all the time. I see that now. I see how Peeta seems at ease in the acres of quiet pastures. How he can work a twelve-hour day of hard, sweaty labor and still have the ability to make everyone laugh at dinner. How he'd much rather spend his nights quietly on a porch swing than at any honky-tonk or bar in town.
Sometimes I forget this place is as much a part of him as it is me — probably more so.
And I think for the second time in this month that somehow this would have happened anyway. Whether it be now or down the road, Peeta Mellark was always the direction I was heading. In the light of day that realization will scare me, but tonight it does nothing but fuel the burn I have for this boy.
I feel the hand he has against my hip gently slide beneath my shirt. His calloused fingers against my bare side send chills through me. I untangle one of my hands from his curls to reach behind me for the doorknob. The sudden click in the quiet night startles us both, but Peeta freezes. My previous confidence easily begins to melt into uncertainty as his lips leave mine. I search his features, only really able to make out anything when a firework explodes in the distance.
"Katniss – we don't," His voice cracks with nerves and it strangely puts me at ease. "I'm not expecting anything. We don't have to do anything. I mean, I want to – I just – God, this –"
"I… I love you."
And it's out there. Saying it aloud feels like some kind of weight has been lifted from me to be replaced with butterflies. I hadn't meant to say it. I hadn't meant to put myself out there in such a way because for as long as I can remember my instincts have lead to self-preservation. Because putting myself out there would mean a possibility of getting hurt, and that is not an option. Not anymore.
I want to look away, but then a firework ignites overhead and my eyes find his. His expression is unreadable, which is rather strange. Peeta is a lot of things, but unreadable is not one of them. Have I completely ruined this? It's too sudden. I knew it was. I may be new to all things "relationship," but even I know the topic of love usually scares off many boys. My heart already aches at what I've done. And my mind is already preparing me to put on a stone face for the rest of the summer.
But then Peeta leans in to kiss me and all thoughts are lost.
The kiss is soft, almost ghostlike, as he pulls me flush against him. In my shocked state my arms still know their place around his neck and they find it comfortably.
"I knew it." His voice tickles against my lips. "My dreams of you saying that could never have done it justice."
I don't have time to process what he just said before his lips find my again and this kiss is no longer soft and lingering. This kiss is to express something. My arms have dropped to grip his biceps while his hands have found purchase on my neck. Our tongues duel for dominance and the heat inside me threatens to boil over as I reach behind me yet again and push my front door open. This time Peeta doesn't argue.
We stumble a bit as I pull him over the threshold. I can feel his smile mirrors mine, and it's something else that helps ease my nerves, even if for a moment. He blindly pushes the door closed and when I hear it click behind us, I pull away just enough to look at him. The silence between us, like the rest of the evening, is loaded. Our breathing is labored and mingles together in my dark kitchen. Slowly I lean forward, one of my hands resting on his chest. My lips brush run across his strong jaw and my other hand reaches behind him.
The sound of the deadbolt in the quiet atmosphere is deafening and promising. When my eyes meet his again, I'm sure. I may be inexperienced in everything we're about to do tonight, but I know exactly what I want — and he's standing right in front of me.
There is a still moment where neither of us knows what to do next. I take this moment to kick off each of my shoes and he does the same. It's mundane, but it fills the space of uncertainty.
I keep my eyes on his for a moment longer as I turn to walk down my small hallway toward my bedroom. Within a few steps I hear his behind me. My heart is racing, and I'm still in shock that I'm actually doing this. Not only am I doing this, I'm leading the way. I walk close to the wall, my fingertips grazing it as if at any moment I'm going to lose my nerve and my footing alike.
Before I reach my familiar room, I feel Peeta's hands come around my middle, one hand sprawling against my stomach while the other rests on my lip. Our walking slows to a near stop as I feel his lips against the heated flesh of my neck. I bite my lip to keep from gasping and my eyes close instantly. The moment is small but intimate. In the stillness I swear I can feel his heartbeat against my back. His warm, damp breath blows the small flyaway pieces of hair near my ear. My fingers intertwine with his against my stomach.
Finally I move us forward, entering my bedroom. I've always known it was small, but now with Peeta, it feels like a dollhouse. There is hardly three feet between the foot of my bed and my dresser. Normally being in such close proximity to anyone would lead me to squirm away, but now I wish there was less space. I wish to stay as close to this boy as possible.
And he must feel the same, because even the few inches I've put between us to lead him in here has been closed by him coming up behind me again. This time he simply places a hand against my side. And my nerves take over before I can control them. I've done everything to push us forward up until this moment. Peeta has only done as much as I've allowed, but in reality I know nothing from this point forward. I'm not even sure if he does. I'm scared and unsure. I try to swallow the large lump that's formed there and I know my frame has gone rigid.
Then Peeta's hand slips from my side and I feel his hands gently undoing my braid, the tingling sensation in my scalp as he undoes the twists I had done earlier. Once he reaches the top I feel his fingers gently shake my tresses, letting them fall completely loose. And then his fingers are tracing patterns at the base of my skull, pushing all of my hair over my right shoulder. His lips kiss at the nape of my neck, following a pattern to my left ear.
"Let go, I've got you," He whispers.
The shiver that rushes through my body is obvious, and I feel his arm come around my middle. Not in possession, but in protection. He's promising me security and safety. Something I've always wanted, but never dared ask for. In that small sentence he's telling my I don't need to be in control not to get hurt. Not with him.
My eyes close as his lips connect with a spot just behind my ear. It tickles and it's familiar. I remember the first time he found that spot only weeks ago. We were leaning against his old pick-up. The moment had started off playful until he found that spot. My knees instantly went weak and I was grateful for his strong hold. Now I'm grateful for the same thing, but slowly his lips move away, and he's turning me to face him.
In the dim lighting I know he can't tell, but my features are flushed and my chest heaves with excited, short breaths. The only light that dances off our features is the light atop several barns nearby that cascade into my single bedroom window. It's dull, but enough and the shadows sooth me. Peeta reaches up and gently traces my cheek with his hand. His attention to detail, even in the dark, is astounding. With each touch my skin aches for more. He leans forward, his lips light against mine.
My response is slow, like his. He's patient, and this kiss proves it. He starts to walk me backwards until I feel the back of my knees hit the edge of my bed. Taking his lead, I slowly lay myself back. With his continued guidance I move toward the head of the bed and lay back against the several pillow I own. And then he's above me, careful not to rest all of his weight on me. But the weight I do feel sends a thrill through me. Our lips connect again and I'm hungry for more. This change in position has done nothing but make me anxious for more. I find my hands traveling down the material of his old t-shirt to the hem where I'm greeted with the feeling of his bare skin.
I'm bold again, and I start to pull the fabric upward. I don't get very far before Peeta leans up on his knees, towering over me. He easily strips the shirt off, tossing it to the side. In the dim light I can make out the contour of his athletic muscles, and he hovers above me like some kind of Greek God. It isn't long before he's coming back atop of me, but it feels like ages and my hands search for him. I grip his strong shoulders as his lips start a trail down my jaw. I feel the heat of his bare chest through the material of my shirt that I'm now wishing wasn't there.
His hands must have the same idea because soon I feel his fingertips just above the waist of my jeans. He's tickling lightly and I can't help the breathy laugh that escapes me. I feel his smile against my pulse point, and it makes me smile longer.
And then he's pulling at the hem of my shirt. It's gentle, almost asking for permission. Slowly I push myself up, following his lead, and toss the material over my head and off to the side. He's leaning back on his heels and looking at me. My insecurities run rampant as I feel his eyes move down from my shoulders to my bra-covered chest and then my bare stomach. It's nothing he wouldn't see when I've been in my swimsuit, but my bra is anything but Victoria Secret and my ranch work tan lines are never appealing. I want to ask him what he thinks; I know I'm not some kind of gorgeous supermodel, but the way his eyes follow every line makes me believe he thinks so.
He's the one who moves first, forcing me to lie back as his lips attach to my collarbone. I feel his hand against my bare stomach and my heart nearly pounds out of my chest as his lips continue their journey downward. He places light kisses atop each breast, just above where my bra covers. My flesh forms goose bumps on the surface.
The gasp that comes out when he lightly nips at the sensitive flesh of my ribs surprises me, but it only encourages him to continue. And he does, sometimes lightly tracing the tip of his tongue over where he just nipped.
His lips continue to lave down, stopping at my bellybutton. The sensation causes me to suck in a sudden breath and when he nips just to the right of it I giggle — actually giggle.
"Someone's ticklish," he mumbles, still kissing around my abdomen. "Good to know."
"Don't you dare, Mellark."
"Don't sass me, Everdeen."
His laughter mingles with mine and this feels so natural. This feels like something I will spend the rest of my days looking forward to. Not just the sex, but also these intimate moments with Peeta. These moments when everything else fades away and it's simply us.
But the laughing stops when he moves back up my body, kissing a trail as he does. Slowly I feel his hand come up to the front clasp of my bra, and it unclips easily. The material loosens around me, but he doesn't push it away at first. He looks at me, watching my reaction. He's looking for uncertainty he won't find. Tonight and Peeta are some of the few things I've honestly been sure about in a long time.
His fingertips move beneath the material, and I feel his calloused touch against my flesh. The rush of heat to my stomach nearly ignites me from the inside out. A simple touch from Peeta has always sent me ablaze, but tonight is a newfound need. He moves the material aside; both of my breasts now free to his touch and his eyes. I subtly move to allow for him to remove the offending bearer from me completely. It gets tossed somewhere to join our t-shirts.
What little I knew about pleasure is completely dissolved when Peeta's lips slip around one of my erect peaks. My mews of pleasure can't be contained as I feel his tongue run circles around my nipple. My hands, as if on feminine instinct, tangle in his curls, begging him not to move. My back arches to meet his lips and his hand glides up my side. Then I feel his thumb rub over the sensitive bud of my other breast. My eyes slam shut, and my head rolls back into the pillows.
Peeta switches his attentions, slowly moving between each. But before he does, he makes sure to worship the valley between them, running wet kisses up and down my chest, even coming up to capture my lips in a passionate lock. My chest heaves noticeably, and I know he's aware of just what he's doing to my body.
My hands are gripping his shoulders hard enough to leave marks, and I find something about that positively exciting. The sensations I feel cause me to buck my hips, accidently at first. The throaty groan Peeta lets out when I do it causes a chill to run through me. I am new to all of this, but apparently whatever I had just done had caused Peeta some kind of pleasure, and since I wish to give him even a fraction of the pleasure he's giving me, I do it once more.
The noises he makes are beautiful, but that's not surprising. Everything Peeta does, everything Peeta is, is beautiful.
Soon Peeta is kissing his way back up to my lips. He stops for a short moment at my collarbone again and I believe I have found one of Peeta's favorite parts about me. When his lips come to mine, our tongues meet in a lazy, passionate duel. His hips have settled against mine completely, and I feel what I can only imagine to be his hardened length against my sensitive core.
My hips decide then to buck against him, and he half-moans and half-laughs against my lips.
"If you continue that much longer, this will end long before it begins."
His hand grasps at my hip, his fingers slipping just below the waistband of my jeans. It's in this moment I can just take in the sensation of having Peeta flush against me. Our body heat has raised the temperature in my room enough that we both have a thin layer of sweat against us. This causes a delicious slick feeling between us.
My hands find purchase on each side of his face as I deepen the kiss even more. My legs easily wrap around his waist, and I know I want more. My legs don't stay wrapped him for long because he's soon coaxing them apart so that he can push himself back up onto his heels. I will never get tired of watching him tower over me. His fingers trace patterns down my sides, and I grin at the tickling sensation. When his fingers stop at the button of my jeans, my breath hitches and my nerves start again.
Uncertainty is still nowhere to be seen, but the anxiety to move forward to painted all over me.
The button comes undone easily and the noise of my zipper fills the quiet room. And then there's nothing stopping him. He gently begins to tug at the material, my hips raise when needed, and then I realize my underwear is going with them. My heart races at the vulnerability that I know is inevitable. And as my legs are completely freed from my old jeans I feel the humid air of the room hit my flesh. My stomach twists with nerves and I can feel Peeta's eyes memorizing me in the dim lighting. He's standing at the foot of the bed looking down at me and I can't help but look away.
Nudity is nothing I'm familiar with outside of showering, and nudity in front of someone else is nearly unbearable. I fight everything in me that wants to grab the blanket and throw it across me. And then I feel his hand grab at my ankle and pull it upward. This does nothing to relieve my nerves, but his lips against the arch of my foot sends a shiver through me.
"You're absolutely perfect, Katniss," he whispers against the flesh of my ankle.
His lips continue to move up my leg; placing it back down on the bed, he forces me to move them farther apart. This causes me to squirm with nervous excitement. His lips are at my thigh before I realize his final destination. Of course, it's something I've only heard people talk about and to be honest I've always thought it sounded rather gross. Why would anyone want someone down there? Better yet, why would anyone want to be down there?
And then my questions are answered.
His tongue comes in contact with the apex between my legs experimentally and I nearly come unglued. My hands grasp the blanket around me and my moans fill the air. Instantly my hips rock gently as if to keep contact with this new intruder. Peeta's arm comes across my hips, keeping them in place as he continues his assault on my center. I thought his tongue would be my undoing until I felt his lips enclose my sensitive bud and suck gently. His name falls from my lips like rain.
The coils in the bottom of my stomach tighten with each suck or lick. His hand that holds my hip tightens and I realize this must be doing something for him as well. I never thought giving pleasure to someone would be such a turn on, but as I think about it, I realize how much I wish to touch him. But that will have to wait because I suddenly feel Peeta's finger slip inside me and start moving in time with his tongue.
At first the intrusion feels strange, and when he adds another I feel as though I am being stretched uncomfortably. But soon the discomfort fades, and he starts curling the tips of his fingers just so that he is hitting a spot I didn't even know existed. My cries fill the room unashamedly now. There is something building within me — a something I've only felt on a much more mundane scale when it's been my fingers or a vivid dream bringing it forth.
I can feel my walls tightening around his fingers and my back arches nearly completely off the bed. My eyes are shut tight and the thin layer of sweat has turned into beads rolling down my sides and neck. I bite my lip for a moment when Peeta hits a particularly sensitive spot and times it perfectly with a light lick to my tender bud.
"Come for me, baby." Peeta encourages, kissing the inside of my thigh. "Let go."
And when his lips come back to my center I come undone. The explosion inside me is like nothing I've ever felt before. I swear I see stars behind my closed eyes as Peeta's name continues to come out in breathless moans. My hands are tangled in his curls, and I'm completely lost.
When I come down from my high, Peeta is gently kissing my abdomen and nipping at my hipbones. I can feel the smugness practically illuminating off of him and I can't help but smile at how boyish he looks against my slick skin. As he works his way back up my body for what seems like the hundredth time that night he places light kisses on my overly sensitive nipples, the smirk never leaving his face.
"What?" I ask.
"You're beautiful when you come." His sincerity leaves me breathless and ignites another fire inside of me.
He kisses me then, and my heart starts its erratic beating all over again. I feel him flush against me once more and I feel as though something had been missing from me before. His hands are everywhere and mine follow suit. My hips move against him; this time the feeling is near surreal. The coarse fabric against my damp curls and sensitive center is maddening.
My hands find the button of his jeans and easily undo it. He pauses, pulling away from my lips just enough to look at me. I'm brave again.
"I bet you are too," I say, leaning up to capture his lips with mine.
If he has an argument it's lost for the moment has his fingers tangle in my hair, his lips collide with mine. My hands continue to undo his jeans, starting to push them down the best I can. But he pulls away again. I think he wants to ask if I'm sure, but when I reach down to grasp his hardened length underneath the confides of his jeans he's quiet once again. There's no turning back. I want this.
He pushes himself up off the bed, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. At first I'm confused, until I see the small square package he pulls out. I'm naïve, but I live in the twenty-first century. He tosses his wallet to the side and looks up at him.
"Never thought I'd thank Reese for anything." He smirks and I laugh.
This is easy, and I wonder if everyone else's first time is this easy and carefree. I'm sure its not. I've heard plenty horror stories. And like always, I'm thankful for Peeta.
His jeans slide down his hips easily, his boxers following suit. My stomach is filled with excitement, and my eyes can't be torn from his now bare body. My thoughts are completely confirmed; he is a Greek God. He looks so beautiful as my eyes scan down his body. In the dark, his all shadows and contour, but the details are there and I suddenly wish to explore them.
Crawling back to me, he takes his time to find places to attach his lips. Peeta is nothing if not thorough. He pauses only to tear the small package and roll the condom down his length. I get bold then and reach my own hand out to help him. His groan is reassuring and my hand runs up and down his erection several times after the barrier is in place.
Peeta grabs my hand, gently pulling it away and places a flat kiss against my palm. He lays atop me then, aligning himself with my center. I tense instinctively, but he doesn't enter me. Instead he looks at me, kissing my lips lightly.
"This is going to hurt at first," he says between kisses. "Try to relax."
I nod, but the tension still has hold of my muscles. I've heard of the original pain girls feel at their first time and even with that instruction my body does as it will. My hands are gripped around his biceps and my knees rest against his sides. I feel the weight of his elbows on either side of me and try to focus on anything but the impending pain.
Yet he still doesn't enter me; instead he kisses me deeply. My lips mold to his easily, and my tongue searches for his. When they connect I moan lightly, my muscles are relaxing without me realizing. He parts our lips enough to speak.
"You have no idea the affect you have on me," he whispers, kissing me again. "I love you."
My heart soars and he enters me deeply. I gasp at the sudden intrusion, my nails digging into his arms as my head tips back against the pillow. The pain isn't instant, but it does come. Peeta holds still through the sharpness, peppering my face with silent kisses. My eyes sting with sudden tears, but a few blinks and they are gone.
My lips search for his and then they connect; my hips buck against his gently. He must understand me because he gently starts to thrust into me. The discomfort remains for several moments before the pleasure starts to wash over me in quiet waves. My quiet whimpers slowly turn into heated moans.
Soon enough Peeta's slow, gentle thrusts aren't enough and I find my hands resting against his lips quietly begging for more. The smirk on Peeta's lips tells me he understands my meaning, but he does nothing to change the pace. Instead he leans down and kisses my sweaty pulse point before moving up to the shell of my ear. "What do you want?"
His voice is deeper than normal. His chest practically rumbles with the gravel and strain in his voice. The mere sound is enough to have me crying out in a wave of pleasure. My hands are still tight on his hips as I try to meet his thrusts in way that tells him I need more. But still our pace remains painstakingly slow.
"You. Harder," I choke out, my eyes opening to see his once blue eyes nearly black in the darkness.
And his thrusts are quicker, deeper. The discomfort I once felt has faded to the background and it's replaced with that familiar build that I remember from earlier. My legs tighten around him and my hands rest around his neck, bringing his forehead against mine. The closeness brings a tightness to my chest and I'm mumbling his name against his lips. My walls tighten around him and I feel his thrusts lose their rhythm for a moment. I think it's his silent way of telling me he's close.
His hand slides beneath me, coming to rest in the small of my back. He twists me upward, and the new angle is spine tingling. I cry out instantly when he hits a spot deep inside me. Within a few deep thrusts I'm coming undone. His name, once again, pours from my lips and my hips arch into him easily. Peeta is losing his resolve and it's absolutely beautiful.
"Come for me, baby." My words echo his from earlier.
And I am just coming down from my high when Peeta starts to fall over the edge inside of me. His eyes close tight and his grip on my hip tightens. I swear my name has never sounded more perfect than it does coming from his mouth at this moment. His thrusts slow as he starts to come back to reality. My hands are still resting around his neck and his forehead is still against mine. Our breath mingles together as we both struggle for steadiness.
"I was right." I smile, my lips finding his.
I don't finish my thought because he deepens the kiss and I'm lost. When he slips out of me I whimper, but remain attached to him as he rolls over. I'm now lying against him, his arm coming around me, and his hand resting against my hip. Part of me thinks I should cover up, but the air is so warm that my slick skin finds the bareness cooling.
"I could stay here forever," I mumble, sleep suddenly sounding rather appealing.
"Hold that thought," He whispers into my temple before crawling out of bed and heading towards my bathroom.
I smirk at the sight of a very naked Peeta finding his way, rather clumsily though my house, attempting to locate my bathroom. My smirk turns into a smile as I lay there thinking about everything that has happened. How I could spend the rest of my nights like this and find no complaint. My eyes start to drift close as I remember the sound of Peeta's voice telling me he loved me.
I fall asleep that night before Peeta returns, but I ghostly remember him saying those three beautiful words to me before I am completely overcome by sleep.