Despite the tingling in my nuts trying to bargain with me to just let go, that it’s fine, that I can just bury my face between her thighs to take her where she deserves to go –and she always deserves to go– I don’t deter.
I don’t fuck slower.
I don’t fuck faster.
I don’t divert my attention anywhere else that isn’t her or her beautiful, quivering body.
How can I?
Why the fuck would I?
There’s nothing more fucking incredible in this world than the way seeing the woman I love lost in ecstasy that I deliver.
That she only letsmeconjure.
It’s a privy even more meaningful than the crest I’m allowed to wear on my chest.
Euphoric muttering suddenly seeps past her clenched teeth, “Thirty-five…”
There’s no stopping the faltering in my hips or me from panting, “Fuck, Slayer…” Wet waves whirl around my cock faster and more frequent, warning me of how close she is, prompting me to pound quicker and harder while mindlessly mumbling, “Snow me.” My drenched digit crazily caresses, hitching her breath again and again and again. “Send me to pracky with a dub.” An offbeat, deranged combination of pumps and strokes pushes me to ignore the potential cramping in my legs to focus on the tightening in her pussy. “Send me to pracky fucking slayed, baby.”
High pitched screams almost precede her sweltering hot muscles possessively clamping down on my dick in rapid succession.
Not coming when she does isn’t an option.
Not tightening my hold with both hands so that each stifling surge coats her deepest depths is also impossible.
Where I end and she starts and where she ends and I start being interchangeable isn’t a want.
It’s a fuckingneed.
A need that I thank my lucky blades every moment of every day that she has too.
Chapter 14
Thayne
“Wait,” putting my truck in park precedes me continuing my investigation, “you’re goin’ to the doc…again?” It’s impossible to stop my forehead from crinkling in concern. “You sure you’re alright, Grams?”
“Boy, I’ll be fine,” she brushes off, voice warmly flooding through the speakers. “When you get to be my age, you’re always at the damn doctor. This gettin’ old shit’s a damn Fonzie scheme.”
“Ponzi.”
“Why you bringin’ upHappy Days?” Grams huffs through a cough.
Bronny removes his mouth from his LMC energy drink, clearly prepared to explain the line change issue, when I simply lift my hand up and shake my head to stop him.
“You actually need somethin’ or tryin’ to make sure I ain’t lonely without you boys around?” she sassily investigates.
“I know you miss me,” my little brother states, mirth riddled in his voice.
“Like I miss mowin’ the lawn in the winter.”
“You don’t mow in the winter,” he quickly reminds.
“Mmmhmm,” escapes in a haughty hum.
Yet again, his mouth drops to argue, prompting me to interrupt before I end up even later to unofficial pracky, “Can you swing by Bronny’s old school and have themresendhis transfer paperwork, please?”
