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“Take that shirt off, Rusty. Or this is all you get.”

“Please,” she moans, trying to flex her hips, but I'm holding them tight. Not letting up an inch until she gives me what I want.

And she knows it, too.

My sexy little goddess.

My Rusty.

She manages to strip the offending shirt and bra off, tossing them carelessly to the floor—now I've got her naked and moaning for me, her pussy dripping down my chin—and I could die right now a happy man.

But I won't.

Fuck no.

Not for a good long time yet, because I just found her again.

And this time we're going to have the life we should've had before shit went south and I fucked up the best thing I ever had.

I groan as I lick into her, but I’m greedy for more.

I need to see her reactions, to watch her submit. I hold her around her hips to steady her as I lift one leg over my shoulder.

My eyes are on her as I swirl my tongue through her folds and around her tight little nubbin. I add one finger, then two, to her tight, sopping wet entrance.

She shudders all around me and I watch as her eyes roll back.

Fuck, she is so good at taking what I give.

So fucking hot.

Looking up at Amanda like this does something to me.

Always has.

She's beautiful.

Powerful.

Mine.

Not because I own her. I mean, not like that.

I’m not a barbarian.

She’s mine because she chose me.

Again.

Even after everything.

“Oh, God! Less!” Amanda cried out when I hook my fingers inside her, stroking that rough patch of tissue, that secret spot that drives her wild.

And God, I love that sound, that look on her face.

I work harder, faster, and she falls apart in my arms.

And when she collapses against me—utterly spent and breathtaking—I swear she steals the air from my lungs.