“Jesus, Xander—”
“I know, sweetheart. You feel like fucking heaven.”
I give her a moment to adjust, savoring the way her body stretches around me, gripping me like it already knows what we are.
“Move,” she rasps.
I obey. First with long, deep strokes. Her legs wrap around my waist, and her nails drag down my back.
She lifts her hips to meet me, every motion matching mine, her walls clenching around me like she’s never going to let me go.
Her moans, my grunts, our bodies sheathed with sweat—they all blend into a haze of sensation ripplingthrough us. We’re fused into one as our pleasure builds.
“Harder,” she gasps.
Fuck, this womanwill bethe death of me.
I pull out and flip her over, hiking her hips in the air. “You better hold on.”
I ram into her, and she cries a prolonged yes. From this angle, I hit the spot that makes her tremble and gasp.
“You’re mine, Coraline,” I growl, thrusting harder.
“For now,” she moans, but her voice cracks.
Fucking woman. The death of me. Nothing comes easy with her. I fist her hair and pull her to me. She angles her face, and I take her lips. I take it the way I take her body—completely.
And then I stop moving.
She groans. “What the fuck, Xander?”
“Say it. Say you’re mine.”
I don’t know where the need is coming from, but it feels like a vital surrender on her part. Like that is the missing piece of the puzzle in this relationship. One that is not conventional, and probably doomed already.
Her concession wouldn’t mean anything in this context, and yet I’m obsessed and need to coax it from her.
“You’re insane.”
I slam into her, making her gasp again as she falls to her hands. “Say it.”
She pushes her hips to me. “I’m yours. Fuck. I’m yours.” Frustration and truth lace her words. Or at least that’s what I want to hear.
I start a piston-like tempo, chasing the release we both need.
She tightens around me when she comes again, her body arching into mine. I groan, my climax slamming into me like a freight train, and I spill into her with a curse, burying my face in her neck.
In the sea of orgasms I have experienced in my life, this one takes me by surprise. What is it about this woman?
We collapse beside each other, tangled in sweat and breathless satisfaction. She brushes my hair back from my forehead, her fingers light, affectionate.
“You still don’t know how many cats I have,” she murmurs.
I grin against her skin. “Oh, sweetheart. I’ve got all the time in the world to count them.”
And for once, the idea of forever doesn’t feel like a trap.
It feels like a plan.
