I lifted my hips off the couch, driving as deep as I could, and his body went taut, pleasure taking over. His dick pulsed repetitively in my hand, doing exactly what I asked him to do.
He shuddered and moaned, body spasming until he collapsed against my chest, cheek pillowed on my shoulder.
I gave his softening dick one last pump and then released it to anchor my hands on his hips.
He let out a whine. “Fill me up, Hiro. Give me everything.”
One final thrust was all it took for me to erupt with a shout, my vision whiting out for a few seconds as bliss ruled my senses, dick spurting endlessly as all of me gave him exactly what he asked for.
Everything.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Rett
Remember when I said he’d already stolen my heart so I couldn’t give him anything else?
I stood corrected. Because, as it turns out, if he had the ability to take my heart, then everything else was basically waiting on a silver platter. Which he helped himself to.
I couldn’t even be mad about it. Not when he was buried in my body and his arms wrapped me up so good. He was exactly as I remembered—devastating in the very best way.
Honestly, I never stood a chance.
As long as I could remember, I always had this fantasy. That someday, someone would show up and be allhe’s the oneand rescue me from every bad situation, erase all the hurt I’d ever felt, and protect me as if his life depended on it. Maybe it wasn’t very modern or independent to have a rescue fantasy, but for someone who’d spent their life in survival mode and just wanting to feel safe, it was my ultimate daydream.
That was all it was supposed to be. A rescue fantasy. A wishful daydream. Something to keep me goingwhen things were hard.
But then he appeared out of the shadows, fulfilling those fantasies like he knew every secret I ever had, and made promises out of my dreams.
It was hard to push myself away from the comfort of his chest, but I guess Haz was right. I was good at gossip because I had questions.
His arms barely gave an inch when I sat back, and my stomach somersaulted at the feeling of being possessed. I wiggled a little farther onto his softening dick, a wordless way of saying I didn’t plan to go far.
“You really haven’t had sex with anyone in two years?” Yes, it’s what I led with. Might as well have had its own most-wanted poster for how bad I wanted to know.
His warm, satisfied eyes traveled over my face like looking at me was some kind of luxury and he was committing every detail to memory. The undivided attention filled me with an unfamiliar warmth, and when his thumb stroked across my cheek, butterflies fluttered inside me.
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Because you’re so sexy.” Completely irresistible, actually. “You could have anyone.”
“Anyone isn’t you.”
“Then why’d you leave?” I blurted, not sure I wanted the answer but needing it all the same. It was the question that haunted me most. Almost as much as his absence. I asked myself almost every day, even when I told myself the answer was that I obviously wasn’t enough.
“I told you. I had a job.”
That was his go-to answer for everything. I was beginningto suspect he might be a workaholic.
“And you thought I couldn’t love a hitman?” The question came out fresh and completely unedited, making me realize a couple of things all at once.
I said the wordlove. But I meant it, so was there any use in taking it back?
