“Good,” Morgan breathed against my ear, thrusting harder once, twice, jolting my whole body and making me laugh all over again at the sudden rush of pleasure.
He pressed his forehead to my shoulder and gripped me tight, holding me in place and driving into me, deep and hard, just like I’d asked him to.
I wanted to tell him that this was perfect, this was exactly what I wanted,hewas perfectandincredible for doing this for me, but I could barely draw breath between sobs of pleasure and the all-consuming thought of howgoodthis felt.
Soon enough I was on my knees, Morgan pulling me back, grabbing the headboard, broad hand curled around my thigh, cock abandoned while he thrust into me, harder, faster, impossibly deep, like he was everywhere at once.
All I could do was hang on for the ride, every thrust of Morgan’s cock pushing me higher and higher, deep and hard inside me, a knot of need tightening and tightening in my gut. But there was no relief, my own cock straining under me, too far from the mattress to rut against it, both of my hands occupied in this position.
It went on and on andon, pleasure and need tangling together until they were inseparable and I was a mess of choked-off moans and trembling thighs.
Just as I was about to cry with frustration, Morgan’s hand slipped away from my thigh again, skimming over my belly, rough palm scraping the underside of my oversensitive cock and pushing me over the edge instantly. Stars burst behind my eyelids, my thighs wobbled, and then I was face-down in the mattress again, just on this side of conscious.
I drifted sleepily for what might have been seconds or minutes or hours, and then couldn’t summon the energy or motivation to protest as Morgan tugged me onto my side, throwing an arm over my waist and letting me snuggle up against his chest as he caught his breath.
“I’m so happy,” I whispered once I could manage to speak again, half-surprised at how true that was.
I wassohappy. Right now, lying in Morgan’s arms, sweat cooling on my skin, I was happy. Happier than I could remember being in a long, long time.
“Good,” Morgan murmured, nuzzling my neck. “That’s all I want.”
“You’re too good for me,” I said, but even as I said it, I realized there was nostingto go along with the thought now. I didn’t really believe it anymore.
“No one’s too good for you,” Morgan responded, low and sleepy. “And I’m gonna make sure you never forget it.”
27
Morgan
I woketo the unmistakable smell of a pancake burning just as my alarm started to beep. Or maybe it’d already been beeping?
My phone read exactly five a.m., which made it impossible to know whether the burning pancake or the alarm came first.
Burning, my brain reminded me.
I sat bolt upright, looking around to see Devin in the little kitchenette, naked except for an apron, peeling a charred pancake off the one frying pan that’d been supplied and dropping it in the trash.
He smiled at me as he went back to the little countertop induction plate, waving his spatula.
“Are you okay?” I asked, voice sleep-rough, head still full of cotton.
Devin shrugged. “The trick to perfect pancakes is to burn the shit out of the first one,” he said, serene.
I couldn’t tell if he was serious, joking, or covering his ass.
Well. Hedefinitelywasn’t covering his ass.
I could’ve gotten used to Devin standing bathed in the first light of sunrise, wearing nothing but a floral apron.
The apron wasn’t essential to this particular fantasy.
“Should you be doing that naked?” I asked, still catching up with everything that was going on.
Devin was making breakfast.
Devin was making…me?…breakfast?
“I’m wearing an apron,” he said with an eyeroll. “Thought we’d eat, go for a little walk before everyone else gets up so we won’t have to join in with their frantic morning. Ground ourselves before we face the world.”
