Maybe it was the fact that they’d been so long apart. Maybe it was knowing that they couldn’t be parted again. Whatever it was, there was something in the way he made love to her, fierce and tender, somehow both possessive and yielding, that made her burn. Between kisses she named him over and over again, tracing every part of him with her hands.
It hadn’t been too long in all honesty, but his mind and body disagreed, relearning how to move against Summer’s, eagerly drinking in her moans and returning her kisses with an almost feverish passion. He never wanted this moment to end, and as he continued to make love to her in front of the fireplace, he couldn’t even tear his eyes away from her own, her name constantly on his lips.
They loved each other for hours as the fire slowly died down, leaving the room in dimming shadows. At some point they undressed each other, Summer slowly peeling him out of shirt and trousers, Isaac reverently removing her dress. He took her again atop the heap of her skirts while she kissed every inch of exposed skin she could reach.
He taught her how to use her mouth for him in other ways, until he was near incoherent with desire, then gently held her flat and reciprocated until she pleaded for mercy. There was no part of the other each did not touch, or kiss, or caress, until they curled in a weary heap before the faded embers.