“More,” she begs, her voice a cry and a squeak, a prayer and a song all in one.
“We good to go bare?” I ask.
She gasps a little at my question but says, “Yeah. Yes. God, yes, just fuck me, Savage.”
She’s barely through her first orgasm when I lower my sweats and line up the tip of my cock against her. I drag the head through her curls, making sure I’m good and wet.
“Oh my God,” she groans and then opens her legs even wider, holding her knees with her hands.
I hear nothing but the crash of blood in my ears at that point because my cock slides inside Claire like I was made to fit her. I’m balls deep before I realize it, and her walls tighten down on me, clamping. I have to hold her knees and go still, or I’m gonna blow before I even have the chance to fuck her.
I catch my breath and open my eyes, watching as I rock my hips, and my dick slides in and out of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, the strongest, most intense, most amazing woman to ever come into my life. I go as slow as I can, trying to savor every single whimper, every single moan.
But then I lose myself.
Lose all thought.
I rock harder, thrust faster. Her tits bounce, she locks her fingers against her knees, and I fuck my way through the pain, through the pleasure, through every ounce of desire, fear, confusion, and protective feeling I’ve had since I laid eyes on Claire.
I fuck her so hard, we move the bed, we bang the headboard, and we’re both crying out to God above for more. When I feel her clamp down on me, I give in.
Give in to the fucking bliss, to the darkness behind my eyes and the light in my heart. I come hard, my knees trembling, sweat dripping down my forehead and splashing on Claire’s open thighs.
I come with a roar and a bliss so complete, it’s the first time, the only time, I can ever remember feeling anything like this.
She didn’t lie.
She’s mine.
Completely.
Not just for tonight.
I can never let her go.
She’s mine now and for fucking ever.
When I wake up,there is an empty space in the bed beside me and a hollow gnawing in my gut.
I spent the night—the entire night—tangled up beside Claire, her legs between mine, my handcupping her breast, her hair splayed out around our pillows.
It was good. Too good.
Better than I’ve felt in weeks with these damn injuries, but better than I’ve felt in years with another human being beside me.
There is something about Claire that fits.
That just makes sense.
Being without her right now feels wrong, and I squint against the daylight and wonder where she went.
The white noise machine in my room, the one that soothes Aurora to sleep, has gone silent. I peek at the monitor, and I see Claire rocking Aurora in her arms.
“Good morning, baby,” she says. Claire has put back on her sleep tee and shorts, and just seeing her body in the full-color image on the monitor makes my cock wake up. She sways as she holds her sleepy baby to her chest, humming a song I don’t recognize. When she starts singing softly, I have to hold back a laugh.
She wasn’t wrong about her singing. She’s no Neon Dawn. But I could listen to her voice and watch her love on her baby for the rest of my life and never get tired of it.
I register the feeling as soon as I feel it, and something inside me tenses.
