Page 57 of Bobby

“I haven’t been with anyone since Lily was born.”

Her words still my hand as it dawns on me. Five years of celibacy. Five years of pent-up sexual frustration. Five years to make up for her going without.

A challenge I’m more than happy to accept.

I take a step forward, putting a knee between her legs. “I would never put you at risk.”

She smiles softly at me and reaches out to touch my arm. “I know.”

“I got tested a few months back. Haven’t been ungloved ever.”

She blinks and nods, her breath catching as I run my fingers up her knee, climbing higher to rest between her thighs. Her taste is still on my tongue from when I licked her cream before. I know she’s ready for me, but I still guide two fingers inside her and feel her body stretch around them as I milk more honey out of her with steady thrusts.

“You my girl, Willow?”

My voice is far lower than it was before. The thought of being inside her makes it husky with want and need, and more caveman tendency than I thought I had.

“Say it,” I demand through gritted teeth.

“Yes. I’m your girl. I’m yours,” she breathes as I pull my fingers away and line up my cock with her opening.

“You’re mine. You always will be,” I say as I push in, letting her cry fill the room before it’s swallowed by the storm outside and my lips as I seal my mouth to hers once more.

Chapter 21—Willow

Too big. God, he’s too big. But in a perfect way, hitting every part of me that needs him. The stretch burns but also feels amazing. No one else has ever made me feel this full. And when he said I would be his forevermore, there was zero panic. Only a plea that he keeps his promise if this is what it feels like to be his.

He releases my mouth, sitting up enough to get more leverage as he thrusts inside me over and over, hitting that special spot I’d heard existed but never experienced before. Hell, I’ve never experienced any of this before. The warm-up to get me ready. The desire dripping down my leg for the man before me, even before he touched me. The slow glide of his hands, caressing every part of me and making me feel that every inch of me is beautiful. Not ugly or lacking in any way.

Every man before Bobby made me feel as if I were the problem. That not getting soaking wet was normal. That the burn I felt when they pushed in over and over was just part of it. And that them finishing before I even got started was just one of the downsides of sex no one talked about.

But it was all a lie. Lies created by men who didn’t know how to please a woman. Who only cared about their needs and not mine.

Bobby cares. More than I thought possible after such a short time.

I thought it was just me. That it was one-sided. All his words were so careful that everything I thought meant something could have meant a dozen other things.

Not anymore. Now I know the truth. He wants me just as I want him.

Some of my need for him—the desire to be with him in every way possible—might still be a side effect of the panic attack. The need to feel alive and not feel as if I’m going down in the plane like my parents. But that seems like a lifetime ago and not just this morning.

Bobby and I have skated around this attraction for weeks. A short time for some, but long enough for us.

“Fuck, Wildflower,” he growls as I squeeze my pussy around his fat cock in a way I know he’ll like. Despite what people say, having kids doesn’t stretch out a woman’s vagina. But it helps us learn the benefits of Kegels. Something Bobby is reaping the benefits of as I continue to pulsate around his dick with each thrust inside me.

“You keep doing that and I’m going to stick my dick in your mouth to compare which strangles my cock better: your pussy—” He swirls a finger around my clit, making me whimper before moving the same digit to my mouth, pushing it in and letting me suck it clean on a hum of approval. “—or this pretty little throat.” He moves his finger out of my mouth and wraps his hand around my neck, squeezing enough to pull a groan I didn’t know would come out of me.

“Oh, baby, I’m going to make this neck so pretty.” I don’t know what he means until he squeezes again. My breath catches from the impact, and my pussy flutters on its own.

“Yeah, that’s my girl,” he praises me as he releases my neck and bends down, nipping at my bottom lip before licking it.

Hearing him call me his makes me beam from the inside out. It might just be pretty words in the moment, but I’m so wrapped up in them, in him, that I’m on the verge of letting him do anything to me.

“Now come for me, Wildflower. Let me feel it,” he rasps.

I cry out softly, with a half-thought slipping through the pleasure that I might be able to come just from him speaking if he keeps it up.

He doubles his efforts, and his other hand finds my clit, pinching it at the same time he cuts off my air with his hand at my neck, and I come with a gush. I try to catch my breath, but I can’t, and it stretches the orgasm longer than any I’ve ever given myself before.