His thrusts grow erratic until he finally buries himself deep inside me, his cum spilling into me in hot, pulsing waves. He collapses, his body trembling as he holds me close, his cock still inside me, still twitching with the aftershocks of his release.
“You’re mine,” he whispers against my ear, his voice dark and possessive.
We hold each other, drifting into sleep.
I wake up to Cade filling me again, slowly, pausing to kiss me, whispering hushed words of love.
I’m not afraid to be with him. Fear has no business here. Neither does shame.
I’m having sex with Cade because I want to. Because it feels good. Because I trust him. This is the man who stood by me while I tore his family name to shreds, the man who helped me do it. And that’s how I know—deep down in my bones—that he’ll never fail me again.
My legs coil around him, toes curling as riotous pleasure courses through me—a knotted need pulls tighter and tighter.
Tears sting the corners of my eyes—not born from pain but from the sheer comfort of Cade’s solid embrace. Our bodies groove together with a newfound trust, each stroke nudging us closer to the edge until ecstasy claims us.
CHAPTER 39
cade
She stirs against me, and my skin tingles where it touches hers. My arm is draped over her waist as I lazily trace the curve of her hip, my torso against her back. My erection is nestled snugly between her cheeks.
There is comfort in this—familiarity, joy, love…peace.
She shifts slightly, arching her back just enough to press herself more firmly against me. A low, sleepy groan escapes me, and my fingers tighten on her hip.
“Mornin’, Dove.” My breath is warm against her neck, and I smile at the shiver that runs down her spine. I kiss her shoulder.
“Morning,” she whispers back, her voice husky.
Then she reaches behind her, her fingers brushing the coarse hair of my thigh, inching upward until she finds me—hot, thick, and pulsing. She gives my cock a gentle squeeze. My breath hitches. My hips jerk forward instinctively.
“Fuck, Sarah.”
I slide my hand up to cup her breast, my thumb brushing over her nipple until it pebbles under my touch. My mouth finds the curve of her neck; my teeth graze her skin as I bite down softly. She gasps, her hips rolling back against me.
“You’re wet, Dove.” I cup her and feel the wetness pooling between her legs. Her pussy lips are slick. She’s ready for me.
Instead of answering, she lets go of my cock long enough to guide me to her entrance, her breath catching as the head of my penis presses against her folds. “Cade,” she breathes, her voice trembling, “please?—”
How often did we make love like this as teenagers when I used to sneak into her bedroom? So, so often, because I was always so hungry for her, wanting her, wanting to be inside her.
I push into her, inch by torturous inch, until I’m buried to the hilt. She clenches around me, her walls tightening instinctively.
I swear under my breath, my hips grinding against her ass as I pray for control. “Christ, you’re so fucking tight.”
I pull out slowly, only to thrust back in with a deep, possessive stroke.
Sarah’s fingers claw at the sheets as I set a slow, deliberate rhythm, each plunge sending waves of pleasure coursing through me.
I cup her breasts, kneading and squeezing, mythumbs brushing over her nipples until she’s moaning, her hips rocking back to meet my every move.
I feel the tension build, hot and heavy in my belly, my body coiling tighter and tighter.
She moves a hand to her clit and starts to circle. I am mesmerized by this sensuous woman who takes control of her pleasure—and aroused, so fucking aroused.
“Fuck, baby, that’s so sexy.”
My pace quickens as I watch her fingers on her cunt, my hips slapping against hers as I drive into her deeper, harder. The slick sounds of our bodies moving together, mixed with the heady scent of sex, are erotic.
