She arches her body slightly, testing my patience that I’ve held on this long. “I never agreed.”
But she didn’t deny me, either.
Hard.
Dirty.
Slow.
We can get each other off just by staring into each other’s eyes because regardless of the many times I wished this shit would go away, there’s a deep part of me that wants to literally drown in her. Our connection is undeniable, straight from either a toxic romance novel or a deeply disturbed love song.
Either way, my body and brain aren’t giving her up any time soon.
“You didn’t need to,” I mutter. “Your body does it all for you.”
“Fuck you,” she sneers.
“Oh, McQueen”—I rub my cock along her clit—“you don’t know how much I want to.”
My lips find hers in a slow, innocent-ass kiss that has me reeling to take more.
To demand more.
I could take her right the fuck now and not give two shits about it.
However, I can’t say I don’t love it when she’s fiending for me. When she can’t help herself. When we’re both on the brink of fucking breaking and giving up the little tiff we’ve had.
Well, more like a big one, on my end.
Yet, I meant what I said.
She’s goals.
She’s the precipice of a high I can’t buy, borrow, or steal.
She’s Bay Astor.
And she’s as much a curse as she is a damn blessing.
I can feel her barely move against me at first, but she’s quickly losing that fight. It’s the issue with being too prideful. A burden she bears because fuck pride, when you can just have what you want.
My cock rubs against her wet slit, coaxing that tongue of hers to give me the green light. To show me she’s given up and to let me in.
A soft whimper escapes her throat, prompting all dirty thoughts in my head. My dick finally inside. Her moans filling my ears and squeezing me to orgasm.
I could do this shit all day.
When are you going to give up, baby?
My lips coil a bit at the thought, lapping again at her mouth, showing my stamina in other ways than my fucking abilities.
It’s within that thought Bay’s tongue slides between my lips, and it’s game on.
The tip of my cock finds her entrance with ease, and that’s when I lose all control.
I’m entering her with a quick thrust and eliciting a mixed moan between Bay and me. There isn’t an inch of space between us as I begin pumping inside her. The memory and reality blend into shards of how obsessed I used to be with her and how, despite the shit that’s gone down, I still want her with my child.
Reality rears its ugly head reminding me she’s not pregnant anymore, and I thrust deeper, earning a sharp gasp from Bay. I may have hurt her, but the thought of De Leon kicking our child to death is something I have to live with for the rest of my life.
