"You remember how good we are? You remember how I used to make you feel?"
"Yes," I gasp, my hips bucking involuntarily against his hand. "Austin, please. I need you."
"Not yet." He withdraws his fingers and replaces them with his mouth.
My scream is amplified by the empty room as his tongue finds me. He eats me with a starving man's desperation, his hands gripping my thighs to keep me open, his tongue broad and skillful. He knows exactly where to touch. Exactly how much pressure to apply. It’s the muscle memory of an obsession that never died. He laps at me, humming his approval against my sensitive flesh, driving me higher and higher until I’m scrabbling at the sheets, begging him to stop, begging him to never stop.
When the orgasm hits, it’s a white-hot explosion that ripples through my entire body. I clamp my legs around his head, crying out his name, my body convulsing in waves of pure pleasure. He stays right there, drinking me down, swallowing every drop of my release until I’m limp and trembling.
He crawls back up my body, his face wet, his eyes burning with triumph. He positions himself between my legs, the head of his cock brushing against my pussy. It feels impossibly large, a blunt instrument of pleasure and possession.
"Look at me," he orders.
I force my heavy eyelids open. Our gazes lock.
"I’m going to fill you so completely you won’t remember where I end and you begin,” he growls, positioning his massive cock at my opening.
He pushes in—slow, agonizing, a deep slide that makes me scream as I stretch to take the massive, thick head of him. He’s a blunt instrument of possession, filling every hollow inch of my pussy and bottoming out against my cervix with a force that makes my vision blur.
He drives deeper, inch by slow inch, giving my body time to accommodate the scale of him. The stretching, the sensation of being entirely occupied by his rigid length, floods my nerves until my inner walls twitch, desperate to milk him. When he’s buried to the hilt, completely sheathed inside me, he pauses.
He rests his forehead against mine, his chest heaving. We are fused together, a single entity in the dark.
"Mine," he grates out, the word a vow and a threat. "Feel how deep. You feel that?"
"Yes," I whimper, wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him even closer. "I feel you everywhere."
He begins to move.
It starts slow, long, grinding strokes that target all the most sensitive nerves deep inside me. With every thrust, he hits a spot that makes my toes curl. The friction is exquisite, the heat building rapidly between us. The bed frame creaks rhythmically, a counterpoint to the wet, slapping sounds of our bodies colliding.
"You fit me perfectly," he pants, his hands sliding under my butt to lift me, changing the angle so he can drive deeper. "Like you were made for this. Made to take my cock."
"Austin," I moan, my head thrashing on the pillow. The pleasure builds again, sharper this time, fueled by the fullness of him inside me.
He picks up the pace, his control slipping. His thrusts become harder, faster, more animalistic. He’s pounding into me now, claiming his territory with every stroke. I meet him thrustfor thrust, my body recognizing its mate. The friction burns, delicious and hot.
"I missed this," he growls, his voice strained. "I missed being inside you. I missed hearing you scream my name."
"I missed you too," I cry out, the truth tearing from my throat. "I love you, Austin. I never stopped."
He freezes for a split second, his eyes widening, and then the dam breaks. He grabs my wrists and pins them above my head, driving into me with a ferocity that borders on violence. It’s transcendent.
"Say it again," he demands, slamming into me.
"I love you!"
"Good. Because you’re never leaving again. You’re going to stay here, in my bed, in my house, carrying my babies."
The words send me over the edge. My climax crashes into me, violent and consuming. I scream, my inner muscles clamping down on him, milking him. The sensation of my body tightening around him is too much for his restraint.
"Courtney!" He roars my name, burying his face in my neck as he thrusts one last, deep time and holds it there.
I feel him pulse deep inside me—hot jets of his seed flooding my womb as he claims me from the inside out. He pours every drop into me, groaning with a primal, animal sound, his heavy, sweat-slicked body shaking against mine. He stays buried to the hilt, pulsing, marking me with his legacy.
We stay like that for a long time, the only sound in the room is our ragged breathing and the settling of the old house. He staysdeep inside me, refusing to pull out, keeping us connected. His weight is heavy on me, crushing in the best way possible. I feel safe. The hollow ache in my chest is gone, filled by the man who was always meant to be there.
Eventually, Austin lifts his head. He looks wrecked, his hair damp with sweat, his expression open and raw. He brushes a strand of hair away from my forehead with a tenderness that makes my heart squeeze.
