Her hold on my dick tightens so much, I nearly explode. Hold it, Dal. You haven’t felt Lucy’s pussy around your cock since the night she walked away… if you come too soon and that’s the first impression she has, you’ll have another regret…
I manage to hold on long enough to let her sink down on me. It’s touch and go there for a moment, I’ll admit. She’s so fucking hot, so goddamntight… for five years, I tortured myself, telling myself that there was no way that Lucy’s pussy was as good as I remembered. I had to have put her on a pedestal because I let emotions get involved, and no matter how many times I tried to fuck her out of my head, Icouldn’t.
Now I finally have her where she belongs—in my bed, wrapped around my cock—and I’m forced to distract myself by quickly burying my face in her cleavage, then taking her mouth in another kiss before she’s seated comfortably enough on my length to move.
After that, it’s all I can donotto come inside of her instantly.
Lucy’s body moves slowly, rocking back and forth, getting used to the intrusion of my body in hers. A soft breath escapes her as she braces her hands on my shoulders, using me to rise up, then fall on me again. When that doesn’t seem to be enough for her, she digs her nails anywhere she can reach as her hips begin to wiggle.
“That’s right, baby,” I grunt. “You’ve got to remember this. This cock was meant to be yours.” Telling myself I’m only trying to help Lucy rememberanything, I grip her hips again, guiding her to ride me the way only she could. I follow the motion, never letting her get too far off my cock before I slam her back down on me, our groins flush and our bodies squelching against each other. “You feel the way I fill you. No one can ever fuck you the way that I can. Even if you don’t remember… even if youcan’tremember… from now on, Luce, that’s something you can never forget.”
She’s on top of me, taking every thrust I give her because, some time while I was talking, it turned into me fucking Lucy instead of her using my body to get off. I knew that would happen, even if she didn’t, but I can’t stop myself—and as she falls forward, wrapping her arms around my neck as she moans my name… my name,Dallas, not Julian… I never want to stop again.
This is it.
This is home.
This is what I should’ve had for the last five years, and now that she’s returned to me, I’ll never let her go.
Panting softly, holding me tight, Lucy starts kissing the side of my neck just like she always used to do. She figured out early on that it’s one of my spots, that if she suckled me on my neck just right, I was putty in her fucking hands, but she’s kissing the left side of my neck.
Whether she knows it or not, she’s putting her lips to the black spade tattoo I got after she left me. When I finally allowed myself to mourn that she was gone, to grieve that Mom was dead, and that a part of me died, too. In the five years since, I’ve fought the urge to follow them, no matter how many times I try to tell myself I’m just fucking around.
No. I wasn’t. But with Lucy in my arms again, I have a new lease on life. A reason to live. That black spade is still a part of me, but it’s nothing compared to my Dandelion.
Thrusting up again, I bottom out inside of her. Gasping at how deep I went, Lucy arches to take me. I hold for a second, than pull out enough to allow her to fall forward again so that she can work on giving me a hickey.
I catch the motion of her lowering her lips to my skin. Reaching up, I cup her chin.
“Dallas?”
“Here, baby.” I guide her head to the other side of my throat. “Right here.”
If she wonders why it matters, she doesn’t say. She goes back to lapping at my skin while I let her settle on my dick. My body screams at me to move, my cock wanting the friction to finally go off inside of her, but I want this moment to last. If she’d rather neck like we were high schoolers instead of both of us being thirty, fine with me.
Especially since, with the amount of attention she’s giving the right side of my throat right now… maybe it’s time I get another tattoo. A new one, with a far better meaning than the mark of death I’ve worn for five years…
Once she realizes that I’ve stopped fucking her, Lucy starts shifting again. She hoists herself slightly, keeping her motions shallow so that she’s riding my cock again. Her gasps become soft pleas, and I reach between us, plucking her clit to give hera little help. I can sense in the way her body’s gone taut that she needs to come.
That makes two of us, baby.
But, right before either of us get the chance, Lucy bows her head, pressing her forehead to mine.
“Do you love me?” she asks suddenly.
The vulnerability in her voice knocks the air from my lungs. I shouldn’t be surprised. Once I got to know Lucy… really know Lucy… it became obvious that she equated sex with love. A couple of romps? Yeah. That was fine. But to own her body,possessher body… she wanted there to be a connection, one that we had from almost the beginning.
Do I love her?
“I never stopped,” I vow.
“Not even when I left?”
“Especially then.”
She swallows roughly, and though I’d like to think it’s because of the way I currently have her impaled on my cock, I know it’s more than that.
And then she murmurs, “What if there was someone else? I mean?—”
