I do hurry. Who wouldn’t when Rory’s waiting for them?
I get dressed, heart already racing, my skin prickling with anticipation the way everything about Rory makes me. I grab the knife we use when he’s in a particular mood—not that I would ever cut him with it, but it does make the game more exciting.
When I get out back, slipping into the wooded area behind the house, I swear I can smell him—amber and vanilla and all mine. “You’re close, I know it,” I say, not loudly, knowing that wherever he is, he can hear me. Leaves and twigs crunch beneath my feet as I move, stalking him in our sex game, the way he often does with me in real life. “I’m going to find you and fuck you. Hold my knife to your pretty little throat while you give me what’s mine.”
He moans, my words clearly doing their job, turning him on.
“So fucking easy,” I say, catching a glimpse of him before Rory starts to run and I chase.
It doesn’t take me long to catch him, to press him against a tree, my horny little cherry already pushing his ass out like he’s dying for it.
“You can at least pretend you don’t want it,” I tease.
“That’s not the game. We both know I want it. I just like the chase.”
I rip his shirt off, then run the knife down his spine, watching Rory tremble.
“Fuck me,” he begs.
“You’re not even naked yet.”
“Then get me naked, motherfucker,” he says, and I laugh.
I tug my pants down, cut his off him, drop the knife, press his chest against the tree, and shove into him in one quick thrust. “Fucking perfect.” I will never get tired of this, never not need him even more than I need to breathe. There is no breath without Rory. No heartbeat, no life.
I fuck him hard and fast, jerking him off while I take what he so willingly gives me. As soon as he cries out my name, his ass tightening around my cock, his slick release covering my fingers, I lose myself to the pleasure of his body, filling him, breeding him, marking what’s mine.
“God, that’s still so fucking good,” he says breathlessly, and I love that we haven’t lost this, that we’ll never lose who we are.
I pull out, turn him around, lick his cum from my fingers, then kiss him. We share his load before I press my lips to my name on his chest. He shoves my shirt up and does the same to his name on me.
“You’re mine,” he says.
“I am. There’s nowhere I wouldn’t follow you, Rory Fitzpatrick.”
“Dangerous choice,” he teases.
“But one I will always make.” I kiss him again. “Come on. Let me take care of you.”
I pull up my pants, pick his up from the ground, along with our knife, and walk him naked back to the house. We shower together, something we do basically every day if we can, and I clean him, spoil him, show him how fucking loved he is. I’ll make sure he always knows how loved he is.
When we’re dressed again and ready for the day, we head next door. Ollie grins when he opens the door.
“Hey, Ol.” I kiss his cheek.
“Hey, Bunny.” Rory does the same, and we slip inside.
“Cillian is almost ready,” he says, just as his husbandwalks down the stairs.
Cillian hugs me, then Rory, the four of us chatting as we head out to their car.
“How’s your hand?” I ask Cillian.
“Because of course he can’t stop himself from punching people,” Ollie complains.
“It wasn’t my fault, Kitten. It was Rory’s.”
“What the fuck did I do?” Rory asks, the four of us playfully arguing on the drive over to Aislin’s. She and Zuri live on the same street as Fia in Boston. Zuri just started as an ER doctor in the city, so they wanted to be close to the hospital. Aislin does a lot of work for her mom’s nonprofit.
