He rocked into me, steady and relentless, every thrust making the world go fuzzy around the edges. My belly—heavy, sensitive—pressed into the mattress with every motion, and I loved the way he adjusted, the way his big hands made me feel small and precious even when he was fucking me within an inch of my life.
He bit down on my shoulder, not hard, just enough to anchor me, to let me know exactly who was in control. His voice in my ear, ragged with need: “Mine.”
“Yours,” I gasped, and meant it.
He picked up the pace, thrusts getting rougher, more urgent. The bed creaked, the headboard knocking against the wall, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care if the whole county heard us. All I wanted was to stay right here, wrapped up in the heat and promise of him.
He brought me to the edge fast, the dual assault of his cock and hand making my legs shake. I clawed at the sheets, begging him to go faster, slower, never stop.
“Come for me,” he ordered once again, and the command stripped away the last of my restraint.
I could feel myself right at the edge, whole body tingling, every nerve focused on the place where we were joined. His grip on my cock tightened, his thrusts hitting the spot with ruthless accuracy.
He buried his face in my neck, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Let go,” he whispered. “I want to feel you come apart.”
And I did.
The orgasm detonated inside me, pleasure blanking out the world in a flash of white. My cock spasmed in Macon’s grip, hot and wet as I shot all over his hand, my own stomach, the sheets. I cried out his name, loud enough to scare the birds off the eaves.
My ass clenched around his cock, milking him, and that was all it took—he drove in deep, his whole body locking up, and groaned, “Carter—fuck—” into the curve of my shoulder. I felt the heat of him filling me, the pulse of it as he shuddered through his own climax.
He didn’t pull out. He never did, not right away. Instead, he wrapped both arms around me, one hand splayed over my heart, the other palm still sticky with my release. He held me like he thought I might disappear, breath ragged in my ear.
We floated there, suspended between seconds, my pulse finally slowing to something manageable.
His cock stayed inside, softening, but still plugging me, as he kissed the back of my neck, the line of my jaw, the place just below my ear that always made me shiver. I rolled my hips, greedy for the aftershocks, and he huffed a laugh, lazy and full of pride.
“Greedy,” he said, voice thick with affection.
I twisted to look back at him, and the expression on his face—sated, content, worshipful—almost undid me all over again.
He reached up and wiped the tears off my cheek with his thumb, then pressed his lips to my temple. “You okay?” he asked, softer this time.
“Never better,” I said, and meant it.
He eased us over so we were on our sides once again, his cock still inside, his arms locked around me. My belly fit perfectly against his palm, his hand spreading over the swell like he was already protecting both of us.
I closed my eyes and let myself go weightless, trusting him to hold me, to anchor me to the world.
“I love you,” I whispered, the words a secret only for the dark.
He squeezed me tighter. “I know,” he said. “I love you, too.”
We lay like that, tangled and breathless, until the sky outside the window went from black to blue to gold. I didn’t think aboutthe past, or the future, or the thousand things that could go wrong. All I cared about was the heat of Macon’s body, the taste of his skin, the way his heart thudded steady against my back.
Here, in his arms, with his come inside me and the promise of forever humming in my veins, I was home.
Nothing and no one could touch that.
Not now. Not ever.
