“I was going to tell you today, to your face, what happened. I didn’t realize the gossip magazines would pick that up,” she says against my chest.
“Next time someone threatens you, I want to know immediately.” I pull back to look at her. “I don’t care if I’m on a plane or in the middle of a game or what time it is. You are never a bother. Watching that fuck with his hands on you is.”
“Okay. Know that I have zero reason to lie to you about anything.” She reaches up and touches my jaw, her thumb tracing along the stubble there. “I want you to trust me.”
“I do trust you. I don’t trust him.” I grip her hips and pull her closer until there’s no space between us. “Those photos made me fucking crazy.”
“I noticed.”
“I saw his mouth on you, and I wanted to kill him.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” she says.
I kiss her, and it’s possessive and desperate and fueled by everything I’ve been swallowing since the last time we were together five days ago. She gasps against my mouth, and I swallow the sound. My tongue slides against hers while myhands find warm skin under her tank top. She arches into me, and her nipples harden through the thin fabric.
“Patterson.” She’s already breathless.
“I need you.” I’m walking her backward toward the couch, my mouth never leaving hers. “Right now.”
“Yes.”
The back of her knees hit the cushions, and I push her down, covering her body with mine. She yanks at my shirt, and I pull it over my head then I’m on her again. My mouth is on her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts above her tank top.
I tug at the fabric, and she lifts up so I can pull it over her head. I take one of her hard nipples into my mouth while she gasps. I suck, then scrape my teeth across the peak while my hand finds her other breast. She’s writhing underneath me, her fingers digging into my shoulders, grinding against my thigh.
“I need to feel you.”
I kiss down her stomach, hooking my fingers in her waistband, and drag her leggings down her thighs. No underwear. The scent of her arousal makes my cock throb.
“Expecting me?” I ask, running one finger through her wetness.
“Always.”
I slide two fingers inside, and she clenches around me, hot and tight.
“Always so fucking ready.”
“Because of you.” She rocks her hips against my hand.
I think about her coming ten times yesterday and how she texted me after each one. I want to know all the ways she touched herself. And then I think about Damien’s hands on her, his mouth on her cheek, and how he tried for twenty fucking minutes and couldn’t give her what I can give her in seconds. My head is all over the place.
I need to be inside her.
I pull my fingers out, and she whimpers at the loss. I shove my pants down and free my cock, pushing into her before she can catch her breath. With one hard thrust, I’m all the way in to the hilt. She cries out, and her nails rake down my back.
“This.” I pull back and slam home again. “This is what he could never give you.”
“No one can.” She’s clawing at me, trying to pull me deeper.
I fuck her hard, all the jealousy and fear and relief pouring out with every thrust. The couch creaks beneath us, and her moans fill the living room. I can feel her tightening around me already because she’s been waiting for this, aching for this, thinking about me while she made herself come over and over again.
“Who owns this pussy?” I demand, grinding against her clit with every stroke.
“You do.” She’s gasping, her head thrown back. “Only you.”
I reposition one of her legs over my shoulder, and the new angle makes her scream. “Only me.”
I feel her getting close. Her walls flutter around my cock, and her breath comes in short gasps.
