He pushes in slowly, inch by careful inch, stretching me, filling me. It’s been years and I’m tight, unused, and he’s so big and thick. My breath catches.
He stills halfway. “Breathe, baby. You’re doing so good. Taking me so fucking well.”
I nod, nails digging into his shoulders. “Keep going. I want all of you.”
He exhales roughly, pushes the rest of the way in until he’s seated deep, hips flush to the plush give of mine. We both groan.
“Fuck,” he rasps, forehead to mine. “This pussy… so tight. So hot. You feel like fucking heaven wrapped around my cock.” His hands roam, gripping my hips, sliding up to cup my breasts, thumbs brushing my nipples. “Been dying to be buried in you like this. To feel every soft inch of you shaking under me.”
He starts to move, slow, deep rolls that drag against every sensitive spot. My legs hook around his hips, heels digging in, urging him faster.
He gives it to me. Pace building, harder, deeper, skin slapping, bed creaking. One hand pins mine above my head and the other slips between us, thumb circling my clit. “You feel that?” he growls. “How deep I am? How fucking wet you are for me? This pussy’s gripping me so tight, baby. Gonna milk every drop out of me.”
I’m climbing fast again. “Lucky…I’m so close.”
“Yeah,” he rasps, pace turning brutal. “Come on my cock, firecracker. Squeeze me. Let me feel this perfect cunt come all over me again.”
I shatter, crying his name, walls pulsing tight around him. He swears roughly, thrusts erratic, once, twice, then buries deep and comes with a guttural groan, pulsing inside the condom, hips jerking against mine.
We stay locked together, panting, sweat-slick and trembling, the sheets tangled around our legs and the room heavy with the scent of us.
His cock is still buried deep inside me. He presses lazy, open-mouthed kisses along my jaw, then my temple, then the tip of my nose, soft, reverent, like he’s savoring the taste of my skin after everything we just did. “Missed you too,” he whispers, voice raw and wrecked in the best way.
I laugh weakly, completely boneless, blissed out and floating in the cradle of his arms. “Two days is way too long.”
He chuckles low in his chest, the sound vibrating through me where our bodies are still pressed so close. With careful, gentle movements he starts to ease out of me, both of us hissing softly at the sudden emptiness. His hands stay on my hips, steadying me as he sits back on his heels between my spread thighs.
“Gotta take care of this,” he murmurs, glancing down at the condom still sheathing him. “Don’t move, firecracker. Stay right here, all pretty and flushed for me.”
I nod, too blissed to argue, watching him through heavy-lidded eyes as he slides off the bed. He stands and pads barefoot acrossthe bedroom toward the attached bathroom. The sight of him walking away naked, confident, cock still thick and heavy even after coming, sends a fresh pulse of need through me despite how thoroughly he just unraveled me.
I hear the faint sound of the faucet running, the soft crinkle of the trash can liner, then he’s back already hardening again, or close enough that his length sways with each step. His eyes rake over me sprawled across the sheets, my legs still parted, skin flushed, curves soft and glowing in the low lamplight filtering through the curtains.
He drops to one knee on the edge of the mattress, reaching for the soft throw blanket folded at the foot of the bed. He shakes it out and drapes it over my bare skin, tucking it around my hips and breasts with surprising tenderness before stretching out beside me and pulling me half on top of him.
His arms wrap tight around every generous curve, possessive, warm, one big hand splaying wide over the plush swell of my lower back, fingers tracing idle patterns along my spine, the other threading through my hair to cradle the back of my head against his chest.
“Never fucking again,” he murmurs against my temple, lips brushing my skin. “Two days without touching you, without tasting you, without being inside this perfect pussy… that was torture. Next time I stay all night. And every night after that you’ll let me.”
I trace lazy circles over his chest with my fingertip, already drifting toward sleep in the warm cocoon of his body heat and the familiar scent of leather and smoke that clings to him even now. “Promise?”
“Swear it, baby.” His hold tightens, fingers flexing against my softness like he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he lets go. “You’re mine now. All of you. Every soft, thick, gorgeous inch.”
I smile against his chest, listening to the steady, strong thud of his heart under my ear. The bedroom feels different tonight, warmer, smaller, fuller. The sheets are a mess, the pillows knocked askew, but none of it matters. His arms are around me, his breath evening out against my hair, and for the first time in years the quiet doesn’t feel empty. It feels safe and I don’t ever want to be anywhere else.
FIFTEEN
LUCKY
Thursday night,and it’s hitting me harder than a freight train how much has changed in seven goddamn days. A week ago I was still playing it cool, telling myself Savannah was just a spark, hot, temporary, nothing that’d burn down my whole world. Now? I’ve spent the last two nights in her bed like I fucking live there. Tuesday I didn’t leave until the sky started turning gray. Wednesday I didn’t even pretend to try. I fucked her slow and deep until we both crashed, then woke her up with my tongue between her thighs before she was even fully awake. She came on my face before the alarm went off, whispering my name like a prayer.
Tonight she climbed on the back of my bike like she’d been doing it forever, arms locked around my waist, thighs hugging my hips, chin tucked against my shoulder as we cut through the cool Jackson air toward the bar for trivia. The way she laughed when I gunned it through a turn, the way her fingers slipped under my cut to press against my stomach… yeah. That shit settled something permanent in my chest.
We walk in, her hand in mine, and she lights up when she spots her friends. Lena’s there, already met her at Perdition last Saturday when the girls rolled up like they owned the place. Then Eli and Noah. They’re on their feet the second they see her, pulling her into hugs that look too easy, too familiar.
Eli wraps his arms around her shoulders first, laughing into her hair like she’s family. Noah’s right behind him, hand sliding to her lower back, thumb brushing that spot just above her jeans in a way that’s casual for them but sets my teeth on edge. They’re talking fast, touching her arms, her waist, inside jokes flying, and something dark and possessive coils tight in my gut.
I stay quiet through the first round, jaw locked, eyes tracking every casual touch. Eli’s hand on her shoulder. Noah leaning in close enough that his knee bumps hers under the table. She’s glowing, laughing, happy, beautiful under the shitty bar lights, and part of me loves seeing her like this. The bigger part wants to haul her out of here and remind her exactly who she belongs to.
