"Sawyer—" Broken. "Please?—"
"Please what."
"I need—more—please?—"
"More," he repeated, and gave it to me. His hips snapped forward and I buried my face in the pillow and let the sound come out muffled and desperate and completely undignified. "Like that?"
"Yes—don't stop?—"
"Wasn't planning on it." His mouth at the back of my neck, the curve of my shoulder. "Come on. Let me feel it. Give me one."
"I can't just?—"
"You can." His fingers moved and his hips didn't slow. "You always can. Come on, baby. Be good for me."
I came.
Hard and fast and completely, his name tearing out of me, my whole body shaking, his hand holding me through every second while he kept moving, kept driving deep, kept his voice low and steady in my ear—good girl, that's it, you're so good, give me all of it—until I had nothing left to give and then he took that too.
He followed me over with both hands gripping my hips and my name in his mouth, rough and wrecked and reverent all at once, shuddering against my back. It wasn't long before we rolled to the side, his cock still inside me, thrusting every so often…just letting me feel him.
I looked over my shoulder with bleary eyes.
Found his face.
“Five years,” I said.
He frowned. “...what?”
“That's how long I want before we start trying for kids,” I said. “Then—then I want you to tie me up and breed me until I'm pregnant. I want to get this IUD out and I want to have lots of gorgeous babies. Okay?”
He went very still behind me.
Then—I felt it. A slow, deliberate roll of his hips. Still inside me. That particular twitch that meant his body had heard something his brain was still processing.
I smiled into the pillow.
"Sawyer."
"Five years," he said. His voice had gone rough again. Different from before—not the paddock voice, not the Dom voice. Something rawer than either. "Five years and then?—"
"And then I want you to take the lasso out again," I said, "and I want you to tie me up and put a baby in me."
He made a sound that wasn't a word.
His hips rolled again. Slow. Involuntary.
"Sawyer," I said, very seriously. "Are you getting hard again."
"..."
"Oh my God."
"You said breed," he said. Like that explained everything. Like that was a complete sentence.
"I did say breed."
"Daniela." His forehead dropped to the back of my neck. His hips moved again, more deliberate this time, and I felt exactly what was happening and bit my lip against the smile. "You can't just—in the middle of—you can't say things like that."
