Not when he’s making my pussy feel so gloriously loved.
Pampered.
Adored.
My body sags back into the mattress, my legs falling again, my thighs wide open as the spasms abate. I ride out the aftershocks with Jonas slowly climbing back up my body, pressing kisses to my belly, under each breast, avoiding my nipples like he knows they’re too sensitive right now, until his face is buried in the crook of my neck, breathing me in like he’s never wanted to be anywhere else in his life.
Like I’m his world.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs.
“That was—wow.”
I have bigger words.
Better words.
But not right now.
He kisses my neck once more, then shifts off me.
I whimper.
He huffs, and it sounds amused, so I let my lips fall into a smile.
But he’s doing something with the covers, rolling me to my side, then onto my stomach.
“Jonas?”
“You worked hard,” he murmurs, his body lining up beside mine as one broad hand sweeps down my back. “Need some pampering now if we’re going another round.”
He kneads a thumb into that spot between my neck and my shoulder, andohhhhh.
This.
This.
I can feel his erection resting against my thigh. He’s still hard as steel, and that knowledge has my vagina lifting one sleepy eye in interest. But right now? Right now, I choose to let this man treat me to a backrub.
37
Jonas
Emma snores.
It’s the cutest snore I’ve ever heard too. Just barely above loud breathing.
No windows rattling here.
Although, I’d bet they do if she ever has a cold.
There’s nothing but silence coming from the rest of the house. Bash is asleep. Yolko Ono is asleep. No chicken noises drifting in from the open window.
Just the cool summer night breeze, the flicker of candles burning lower in here, and the sound of Emma’s deep, soft snores.
This.
This is the peace I didn’t know I wanted.
