Warren’s tongue darts out to my upper lip, and I open for him gladly. “V,” I say, pulling away. He made this a game. He should regret all twenty-six letters.
“You’ve made your point.” He wraps a hand around my shoulders to bring me flat against his chest.
“Uh-uh-uh.” I shake my head. “U.” I trail one feather-soft finger down the centre of his chest. “T.” I lean back as far as I can bend. “S.” He watches my hand curl up my inner thigh and groans like a man being tortured.
I smile slyly in response as my fingers find my pleasure and begin moving in small, delicate circles. Warren knows as well as I do that I’m toying with myself alongside him—this touching won’t bring me to an orgasm. Though combined with his pained expression, it might bring me close.
“R,” I elongate through a moan. “Q,” I say, voice pitchy. “P.”
Warren sits up, reaches towards me, and fists my hair at the base of my skull, cradling my head. The grip sends my thoughts spiralling. “You win.” he nearly whines.Enough teasing.
“O, N, M, L, K, J, I, H, G, F—” I attempt to finish, but when he sits me up and licks from my collarbone to my jaw, I admit defeat. “Satisfied?” I bite down on a cheeky smile as he rolls us until he’s on top of me.
“You’re about to be,” he replies before guiding himself into me, soliciting a gasp from both of us. I would roll my eyes at his overarching confidence but—damn it—he’s right.
Warren rolls his hips under my palms, and I tilt mine upwards to get him as deep in me as I can. He wraps his forearm under my neck, bringing his face close to mine, and despite the pumping of his hips, it’s like I’m being held.
It’s a hold I hadn’t known before him—one that sends me skyrocketing towards orgasm each time from the feeling of safety alone. I make a sound that’s more like a whimper than a moan, and it reverberates with each sinfully deep thrust.
“I know, dove.” Warren kisses my chin before resuming. “Let it build.”
“Shit.” I lengthen the word by at least three syllables.
“Yes.” Warren hisses out as I begin contracting around him. “So good.”
“Yeah?” I ask, voice scattered as my orgasm becomes impossibly close.
“Perfect. You’re perfect,” Warren groans. “Come, gorgeous. Right now,” he commands.
“Warren!” I cry out. “Oh—”
Warren places a hand over my mouth, silencing the cries he’s come to expect.
“Good,” he whispers against my forehead. “So hot.”
As my body winds down, though my legs still shake, Warren’s smirking mouth finds my parted lips.
“Dove… you’ve got to be quieter.”
No one wants to be thinking about the sleeping infant on the other side of the room right now, but it’s a necessity.
“Though I do love hearing you… Fuck, I really do.” He soothes my lips with gentle kisses as his thrusts slow to almost nothing, his hips circling against mine.
I let out a breathy laugh. “I like when you cover my mouth. It’s like you’re capturing my moans for only you to hear.”
I gasp, and my half-closed eyes widen as Warren plunges forward in one shocking, full tilt of his hips.
“Oh… you liked hearing that?” I ask. “That my pleasure is only for you to hear?” In an almost mindless response, my legs hook around his lower back, bracing against him as he relentlessly pounds into me—building my pleasure again alongside his own.
“Well, it is. Only for you. I am… yours,” I say desperately.
“All mine,” Warren says through gritted teeth, his sharp blue eyes finding mine as he watches me writhe with laser focus. “And I’m entirely yours.”
A minute or hour or seconds pass, filled with rapid, desperate thrusts that have us covering each other’s mouths as we finish ourincredibly luckynumber thirteen.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
I lie flat against Warren’s chest, my body curled up against his side. Thanking my lucky stars—and glowing golf balls—for how the second half of this year has unfolded.
