Gabe
I ’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. Lenore’s climbing into my lap, completely goddamn bare, her dusky pink nipples hard and pointing at me like arrows. And she’s so small and tight, her little curves just begging to be cupped and squeezed, and she’s smiling at me like that, and Christ.
Nothing could have prepared me for this. I’m gonna explode.
Not just my cock—my brain and heart too. I’m gonna splatter the walls. Mind blown.
Because Lenore’s weight is so perfect on my lap. Her scent is in my nose—not just her shampoo, but the spiced vanilla scent of her bare skin, too. The faint musk between her legs, her dampness already soaking through my jeans; her silky brown hair sliding over her shoulders…
It’s all too much.
I don’t deserve a fraction of this—but god help me, I’m taking it anyway. Keeping her. If I lost her now, I think I’d go insane.
Those idiot Hattworths didn’t know what a prize Lenore is. They didn’t see how lucky they were to have her in their lives, to have her loyalty and care, and now they’ve lost it.
Works for me.
“Did you really mean that stuff about me living here?” Lenore worries her bottom lip with her teeth again, nibbling it until it’s swollen and red. “You don’t have to do that for me, . I know it’s a lot.”
She deserves all that care and more. This angel deserves the moon on a platter.
“I meant it.” My hands are too rough in her hair, tugging her face to mine, but Lenore doesn’t seem to mind. She moans against my mouth, kissing me back. Kissing me hard. “Don’t you go leaving me now, gorgeous.” I nip her bottom lip too, right where she’s made it all puffy. “We agreed, okay? You’re mine .”
Her pleased shiver raises goosebumps under my clothes. And this is so much, so intense, but it’s right too—the best thing I’ve ever felt in my whole damn life.
I’m not like those idiot Hattworths. I know a great thing when I see it.
And what the two of us have here? It’s more than great. It’s… destiny, or some shit. Never believed in that stuff before, but I’m converted now.
“What if I’m a terrible roommate, though? What if I leave the cap off the toothpaste? What if I leave damp towels on the floor?” She’s teasing, gripping my cock again and stroking it. As if it needs bringing back to life—I’m so hard my teeth ache.
And she’s not just a roommate, but I’ll let that slide. For now.
I shrug. “Then I guess I’ll have to redden your pretty ass. See if it blushes up like the rest of you.”
Lenore’s laugh is throaty, and she shifts up onto her knees. Lines me up with her center, and holy hell, the heat coming off of her. The slickness. The draw.
Everything in me screams to thrust up, to spear her in one go and claim her forever, and it’s only my last few brain cells that keep my ass glued to the sofa. Sweat breaks out on my spine from the effort of staying put.
I will not rush this. Will never hurt her.
“Note to self,” she says, working the first inch inside. “Leave my towel on the floor every day.”
If that means I can put her over my knee and work her into a moaning puddle? Sure. Sign me up.
“This is nuts,” I can’t help saying as Lenore sinks down on me, inch by agonizing inch. It takes all her concentration, all her effort, her hips screwing down on me as she works herself open. My hands grip her hips, fingers digging into her soft flesh, and I can feel my pulse thudding inside her. “The way I feel about you? It’s nuts.”
“Likewise.” She pauses and tips her head back, catching her breath. Then hums and sinks the last few inches with a breathy sigh, already slicker by the minute.
And… I’m in.
Lenore scrunches her eyes shut and wriggles her ass against my lap, like she wants to feel me press against every corner in there. Like she’s testing the newfound limits of her body. “I guess as long as we’re both feeling like this, it’s okay?”
Is that a shred of doubt in her husky voice? Hell no.
“It’s more than okay.” Unbidden, my hands start to rock her, rolling her back and forth over my lap. Her broken moan is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard, because yeah, first times might be uncomfortable sometimes, but you’d better believe hers is gonna make her toes curl. “It’s a goddamn miracle, baby. Us feeling like this? Finding each other? We must have been stupid good in another life.”
She’s smiling again, eyes still closed, pretty chest heaving. Her arms loop around my neck and she’s so pliable, so trusting, letting me use her like a pretty little doll.
Leaning forward, I latch onto the spot where her shoulder meets her neck, sucking hard. My heartbeat’s booming in my ears, blood roaring through my veins, and every nerve ending in my body is pinging.
“Try bouncing. Try grinding. See what feels good, baby, then take what you need. Ride your man.”
Lenore gives another blissful sigh—like I’m reciting poetry—then her ass starts bouncing in my lap. Then grinding. Then screwing in little circles. Those soulful brown eyes flutter open and she watches me; stares into my eyes like she’s being doing since the very first day we laid eyes on each other, as she rides my shaft like a champ.
Her channel squeezes me, grips me, milks me in the sweetest torture.
I grit my teeth and hold off the wave building inside me with all my might.
“So beautiful,” I rasp. “Fuck, Lenore. I’m yours. Don’t ruin me, baby. Don’t throw me away after this, ‘cause I won’t survive it.”
“Never,” she promises, insides clamping down on me like her body’s agreeing too. “This is it for us, Dempsey. You’re mine .”
And Lenore comes with my thumb on her clit and my fist in her hair. With her nipples brushing against my half-open work shirt, the fabric clouded with dust, my belt buckle clinking with every single roll of her hips.
I’m not the man her family wanted for her. But then, they didn’t know her. At all.
And I’m the man who thrusts deep inside her and claims her, spurt after endless spurt.
* * *
Five years later
It’s dark backstage. It’ll never stop shocking me how dark and dusty and echoing it is backstage at these shows, especially compared to the throbbing music and hot, sparkly lights out front.
The first time I came back here at one of Lenore’s shows, it pissed me off. Thought someone was messing with her, making her hide behind these thick black curtains in the shadows because she was new and inexperienced, or whatever. I was ready to grab some collars, shake a better attitude into whoever needed it.
But nope. Turns out even the greatest designers deal with the same spiders when they put on their fashion shows. And Lenore doesn’t care at all, not one bit, because she’s too busy holding her breath and peeking through the curtain, not blinking, as her designs parade up and down the catwalk.
“They like that one,” she murmurs, reaching back to tug on my sleeve. “, they really like that one.”
“Good,” I say gruffly, even though if I’m honest, half these designs are beyond me. A mini dress made of chain mail? What use would that be in battle? But I sure as shit believe that these designs are genius, even if I don’t get ‘em, because they came from Lenore Dempsey’s brain.
“This is going so well,” she whispers, like she can’t believe her luck. Even though every show she’s done so far has gone down a storm, and there’s a great turnout tonight for this: the first show ever where she’s the only designer. The main attraction. It’s been a long time coming, and Lenore would tell you it’s still not a huge deal, but I know. I see how hard she works.
If I were any prouder, I’d explode.
Sliding one palm around my wife’s body, I cup the hard curve of her stomach. It’s still barely noticeable when she wears these draping blouses, but you can feel it alright. Her baby bump. Our child growing inside her.
Five years ago, when we first got together, we got Lenore on birth control pretty quick. She had a college course to finish, a career to launch, and you bet your ass I was never going to be the obstacle in her way.
But a year ago, Lenore stopped taking her pill. Said she was ready for our next step.
And peeking over her head at the bright lights out there… well, it’s barely slowed her down at all.
“I’ll have to work less soon,” Lenore murmurs, like she’s reading my mind. I shrug, crowding closer against her back, and press a kiss to the back of her head.
“You’ll need to rest, sure. Your body will need to recover, and you’ll want to get to know our baby. But then you’ll be back at it, gorgeous, more inspired than ever. And I’ll help you with whatever you need, you know that. We always figure it out.”
Her head tips back against my shoulder. I kiss her neck, rubbing circles over her bump, and my lips curve when I feel her big sigh.
“So I can keep my career?” Lenore whispers. “You promise?”
“I promise.” Whatever it takes. Even if that means hiring help, or winding down my own business to change nappies at home. Whatever my girl needs, that’s what she’ll get. I’m not an idiot. There’s no greater calling in my life than making this woman smile.
Maybe she’ll want to work less. Maybe she won’t.
Either way, I’m here to make it happen.
And maybe Lenore would’ve had more resources if she’d married some banker the Hattworths picked out; maybe she could afford a fancier car or a butler or whatever.
But no stupid banker would put her first. And we’re wealthy as fuck when it comes to love.
“Baby?”
She hums. “Yeah?”
“Wear that chain mail dress for me later.”