Bucking against his hold, I heard my makeup stuff shift and slide and clatter into the sink.
“Christ, your hot, wet, tight pussy,” he growled against my ear.
I bucked again.
He sank his teeth into the tender flesh behind my ear and slammed in, my hips connecting with the edge of the counter at the power of his drive, and I liked it, and not just because he was coming.
I was drifting down so I could (kinda) focus on how hard he’d shoved his face in my neck, how broad his shoulders were compared to the width of my body, how wide and full he made me, and how magnificent we were.
He jerked in deeper, and I gasped in surprise (and for other reasons), before he growled, “Your cunt, baby, fuckin’ heaven.”
That wasn’t exactly poetic, but it worked great.
He cupped our sexes in one hand, my breast in the other, and put his chin to my shoulder to look at us in the mirror.
And I would never…
Not ever…
Forget the look of carnal possession, loving affection and complete satisfaction that came over his amazing face when he saw us like that.
Then he thrust in again (and I gasped again) before he declared, “Every inch of you, mine, Willow. You hear me?”
I heard him and felt him, and I was oh-so down with that because every inch of him was mine too.
“I hear you, baby,” I whispered.
He held my gaze in the mirror.
Then he turned his head to kiss the place where he bit me as he pulled out.
He saw to smoothing my panties back in place before he hiked up his jeans.
I had cleanup to do, and even if we’d just fucked over my sink, even if I’d just seen that look on his face, even if I felt the exact same way he did, and even if he’d cleaned me up repeatedly the last couple of days, I wasn’t there yet with him being present while I did it.
But I wasn’t going to get to do it yet.
He turned me, hefted me up and set me on the bathroom counter before he pushed between my legs and caught me with both hands on my neck, right under my jaw.
There was something both forceful and poignant about this, and it made me focus fully on him. Or, more fully than I was already focused.
And yes, there was something poignant about this, I saw it from the new look in his eyes.
“Thank you for listening last night and being so cool,” he said gently.
My first response was to melt into him and wrap my arms around him because that was sweet.
My second response was to tense and get pissed because he didn’t need to thank me, that was what girlfriends did, it was part of the job description.
Thus, I read in his doing so an indication that Ariana not only didn’t bother to ask him about his life, his history, his fucking beloved grandmother who died too young, she also wasn’t all that fired up to help him process the nightmare he’d lived with Denise.
Therefore, I snapped, “Let me guess, Ariana’s self-absorption not only led to her not being there for you when you lost your gran, Ariana’s jealous streak extended to her not being there for you with the Denise stuff.”
His eyes flickered and his mouth said, “Babe.”
Both were confirmations.
It wasn’t all that graceful when I yanked from his hold and twisted out from him between my legs so I could hop to the ground, but I was in such a tizzy, I didn’t care.
