“Tell me what you need, Kitten.” He shifted under me, and slid his hand to the back of my thigh.
“You,” I murmured, feeling his dick twitch at my response.
His tongue swept into my mouth just as his hands slid up my back and pulled off my sports bra. He kissed me like he was trying to pull every ugly thought out of my head.
I moaned and rocked my hips against him as he teased my nipple, rolling it between his fingers.
“Stop fuckin’ with me, Nai,” he growled, his tongue dragging up the curve of my neck.
My nails dug into his shoulders as I continued moving against the thick length straining through his sweats.
“Why does it feel so good with you?” I breathed, pressing my forehead to his.
He grunted and stood with me still wrapped around him. I bit back a laugh as he carried me into my bedroom. The streetlight poured in through the windows, washing his skin in gold as he slid off his sweats. I peeled off my bottoms and fell back against the pillows.
He climbed into the bed and brushed his knuckles against the slick heat between my thighs, sending a shiver down my spine.
“It feels good,” he said, kissing me, “because I’m yours.”
My breath hitched as he circled my clit, then pushed two fingers inside me. I cried out softly, my hips rising. His other hand wrapped gently around my neck.
“I hate that I miss you when you’re not around. You’re the only person I’ve ever felt safe with,” I whispered.
His grip on my neck tightened just enough to make my body hum. “You’re safe with me. You hear?” he rasped. “You’remine, Nairobi. Doesn’t matter how many times you run—this shit’s mine. Been mine.”
He pulled his fingers from me and brought them to his lips, licking them clean. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, hooking my leg over his shoulder before easing himself inside. I gasped, my back arching off the bed.
Each stroke was deep—stretching me out and setting every nerve in my body into overdrive. I closed my eyes as I trembled beneath him.
“Look at me, Kitten,” he said, tapping my cheek. “I want you to see what you do to me.”
My eyes fluttered open to look up at him, and the expression on his face took my breath away. Like he’d burn down the world for me if I asked. Like he was silently telling me he’d fix everything broken thing inside me if I’d only let him. But I didn’t know if I could—he had more to lose than me.
“Get outta your head and focus on me,” Fontaine said, pinching my clit.
I clenched around him, my orgasm close now.
“Who you belong to?”
“Fuck, ‘Taine!” I cried out.
“Say it,” he growled, squeezing my neck.
“I’m yours, baby. Yours!”
“I love you,” he gritted—like the confession was ripped out of him.
I shattered around him, clenching tight and crying out his name as he followed with a groan, spilling inside me. He kissed me hard, like he didn’t care that I heard his admission.
But I’d always known he loved me. Even before I left him in New York. But hearing it cracked something open—and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to close it again.
11 /FONTAINE JACKSON
I bracedmyself against the sink, heart still pounding like I’d just run a hundred-meter dash.
“I love you.”
I hadn’t meant to say it, but I was so caught up—so drunk off her—that it just slipped.
