“I need to get you in my bed, Isabelle.”
I nod my head. I never knew wanting someone could be like this. I never knewfallingcould be like this.
“I want a whole night with you.” He continues working his cock up and down my pussy, nudging in a little further every time he reaches my entrance. “I want you from sundown to sunup,” he says and pushes inside me in one swift motion, as far as he can go.
My hands frantically search for something to hold on to as Gage starts to fuck me with a punishing pace. His barbells rub my inner walls, and garbled nonsense pours out of me. I pinch my nipples just to give my hands something to hold on to. I fear I might lose my mind if I can’t find something to ground me in reality.
“Goddamn, I can already feel your pussy clamping around my cock.”
“Yes.” I sigh.
“Do you know how hot it is knowing that when we walk out of here, I’ll have the scent of you embedded in my beard?” He grunts. “I’ll fucking smell you for the rest of the night. I’ll never be able to walk into this office again without the image of you splayed out on my desk running through my head like a dream.”
“Gage, oh my god.” I whimper.
He runs a hand up my stomach and threads his fingers through mine, holding on to me while he keeps his pace. He continues to pull in and out, from root to tip, long, deep thrusts that have me crying out.
“Louder, Isabelle. Don’t be shy now.”
I moan freely into the space, letting it bounce off the walls and fill my ears. Gage squeezes my hand and lets out his own sounds of eager approval. Sweat drips down my temples, my throat is dry, and all I can hear is the way Gage and I give in to our pleasure. All I can see are stars.
I open my eyes, wanting to see his face, and he’s already looking at me. His chest heaves, and his jaw is clenched.
“More,” I beg.
“Fuck.” He lifts his hand off my thigh and pins his forearm across my hips, his fingers digging into the skin, and he fucks me even harder, locking me against him.
“Yes! Yes!” I practically scream and bring my free hand down to hold onto his wrist, while my eyes roll back in my head and my insides coil, tighter and tighter until I’m ready to burst.
“Give me your eyes, Buttercup.” My mouth drops open in a silent cry as I meet his waiting eyes.
“That’s it. Come on my cock, baby. Fucking own me.”
Tears fall as I give in to the sensations. “Gage!”
“Ahh, fuck, Isabelle.” He roars as his orgasm hits, pinning himself as deep as he can go. I can feel the way his dick twitches inside of me as it spills.
When he collapses on top of me, his body slick with sweat against mine, I don’t want to move. Not that I think I’m even capable of doing so at this point, but if I had a choice, I would stay like this all night. All morning. I would seek this out in all the moments in between.
Chapter twenty-six
“Help me settle an argument,” Madeline says as she bounces a sleepy Wren on her hip. “When your husband plays professional football, you’re only allowed to wear his team jersey for the rest of your life,or,” she pauses to roll her eyes at Jacob, “it’s okay to occasionally wear your dad’s team’s jersey since your husband’s team is not even playing in the game you’re watching.”
“I think if said husband is not playing, you can wear a jersey to support the team that is playing,” Chelsea answers as she licks around the sides of her toffee ice cream, completely immune to the death stare our brother-in-law is sending her way.
We’re wandering around the Autumn Days Festival, the sun is just starting to go down, making the lights strung up over the picnic tables glow.
Thistle Theory donated a whole bunch of floral displays for an interactive walk-through. We just said goodbye to Mum, who’s helping man a plant stall at the other end of the event grounds, and now we’re walking along the row of food trucks. My sisters have already eaten, but I got here late since I came straight from a networking event with Caleb.
“I don’t know. Isn’t the whole jersey thing kind of a big deal?”
“Thank you, Isabelle!” Jacob shouts, coming around to my side of the group to sling an arm around my shoulder. “I knew you were my favourite.”
“I’d just like to point out, for the particular incident we’re referring to, not only was his team not playing, but we weren’t even watching football.” Maddie stops, dropping onto one hip as she purses her lips at her husband.
I look up at Jacob, knowing he can read the words before I say them.
“Noooo,” he pleads. “Izzy, you were on my side.”
