His smile is feral as he steps close, the head of his dick probing my slick, throbbing pussy. He pushes in, one hand going to my hip, the other pressing on my back right where my new name is. “You’re so fucking hot,” he murmurs, pushing in another inch and then two. “Never thought I’d appreciate anything more than you naked, but this is a close call.”
I huff out a laugh, then gasp, “Maybe I’ll tattoo it somewhere.”
He jerks against me, his cock sliding in fully. He leans over my back, his voice right near my ear. “Can I choose where?”
Rolling my hips, I try to force him to move, but he remains still, nibbling gently on my neck. “Sure. Whatever you want.”
His low chuckle sends vibrations through me, and I shiver, pushing my ass back against him in invitation. He groans, both hands gripping my hips as he pulls out, drives back in, setting an urgent rhythm I’ve been yearning for.
He slides a hand around, his fingers rubbing over my clit with practiced ease. I gasp and then moan, and he pauses his movements, says, “Make sure you stay quiet.”
I turn my head, biting down on my new jersey as he resumes the press of his fingers, the rut of his cock inside me, and soon, I’m shuddering, twitching and gasping little shocks of pleasure.
He comes with a low moan and long exhale, his cock pressed deep. He slides in and out a few times, playing in the slick mess he left behind, obviously enjoying himself. With a final sigh he steps back, the absence of his dick punctuated by the rush of wet between my thighs, and I grumble half-heartedly.
He grabs a small towel from the shelf under the table, using it to clean between my legs gently before helping me stand. He uses the same towel to clean himself, then tosses the towel in the laundry basket before focusing on adjusting his own clothing.
Suddenly filled with an intense need tell himsomething, I say, “You wanna know one of the reasons I didn’t rush to tell you?”
He becomes still, his eyes clashing with mine as he says, “Yes, but don’t feel you have to tell me.”
Suddenly feeling silly, I get tongue-tied and swallow a few times before whispering, “I was afraid this would stop,” I pause, motioning between the two of us, “the physical stuff.”
His eyes widen, and he cocks his head. “You were afraid I’d stop fucking you?”
“Okay, when you word it like that, it sounds completely ridiculous.”
He smiles, finishes fastening his pants, a low chuckle dancing in the space between us. “I mean, from where I’m standing, it is absolutely ridiculous. But I understand why it might concern you.”
My heart pounds in my chest, butterflies turning in my stomach. “You do?”
He nods, steps in front of me, cups my face in his palms. “Obviously, I don’t know the particulars of what drives you, but I do know that fear has no rules, Cass. Fear doesn’t rationalize or reason. Fear takes our deepest insecurities and feeds off them, brings them to life to hurt us.”
My guts clench, my breath suddenly locked in my lungs. My hands grip his wrists, not to pull him away, but to steady myself, to keep me locked in. I focus on his eyes and my face reflected there—fear, hurt, anxiety. “You don’t need to fear me. You’ll see.”
“I don’t?” My question comes out as a whisper, barely audible, but he hears because then he says, “I’ll hunt down every demon you’ve ever had and rip them from your reality.”
“Really?”
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Every. Last. Fucking. One.”
Our conversation has turned sinister so quickly I’m unsure what to make of it. All I know is I don’t hate it. Not one bit.
Still, I choose to lighten the mood. “So, you’re saying I don’t have to worry about you not wanting to have marital relations with me now that I’m pregnant?”
“Listen. We could end up amicably divorced,” he begins, then pauses and leans in, whispers, “Not gonna happen.” Smirking,he pulls back, his fingertips brushing along my cheeks as he states, “But even fifty years from now, I’ll still wanna fuck you on my deathbed.”
“Wha—” I frown then laugh and shake my head. “Rennick Rafferty, be serious.”
He grins then shrugs as he says, “I am fucking serious. If I’m breathing, I wanna fuck you. That will never change.”
I sigh and shake my head, feigning disapproving nonchalance. He holds a hand out to me. “You good with that?”
Eyeing his hand, I think over the last few months, the last few weeks, the last few days. All these moments within moments that flash by in a blink, leaving me with a deep warmth in my chest that I’ve never known before.
My eyes move to his, twinkling brightly, the grin on his face.
So, I smile. And take his hand.
