39. Cody
Cody
I ’m hard as a fucking rock and I’ve never been so grateful for the agony because the taste of her is magical.
And it’s mine.
The sense of achievement roars through me because I know how tough it is for her to let go.
But she does with me.
Only me.
I delve between us, unfastening my zipper and freeing my cock.
At long last, it gets a taste of her magic.
She’s so wet that I slide in with ease. When I do, her unfocused eyes fix onto me and the humming she’s been treating me to shifts, morphs. It’s like she’s singing a note.
Honestly, anyone else, I’d think she was crazy, but it’s Tee.
So I don’t think.
I know.
“You’re mine. My crazy. My mad genius. My star, Tee.”
It’s like being back in college when you fucked with music on so your neighbor didn’t hear, but a thousand times better.
Because it’s her .
And she doesn’t know she’s doing it.
“I am so fucking hard for you right now, baby girl.” I moan. “Never been this goddamn hard in my life.”
I suddenly know that this is it—whenever I’m inside her, she’ll treat me to her music.
Oh, fuck, this is going to be a problem.
Whenever I hear her hum, I’m going to associate it with sex and then I’m going to need to fuck her.
Keening at the thought of turning into one of Pavlov’s dogs for her music, I give her what we both need—each other.
I can feel how she’s still hovering on the precipice, my dick only taking her higher up it rather than letting her come down.
In the back of my mind, I can hear a weird noise. But I’m so used to Tee making music that I shove it aside and zoom my focus in on her.
“This pussy is so fucking perfect. I never want to leave it. Ever.”
“Please don’t,” she cries, fingers biting into my ass. “Oh, Cody. Please, don’t stop.”
“I’ll only stop if you give me you. I want you to come again, Tee. I won’t let you off my cock until you’re screaming my name. Can you do that for me, baby girl?”
She wails when I shift faster, pumping harder, straining against her. I need her to come. I can’t let go until she does. This is the one thing I can always give her—pleasure. Release. Escape.
I stay deep, stimulating a different part of her, then I press a hand by her head so I can create a pocket of space that’ll let me rub her clit.
A few strokes of both my dick and my fingers is all it takes—she goes off like a light show. Her noises. Fuck. They destroy me. They rebuild me. They’re us.
Us .
I’ve never wanted to be a part of something more than I do with her.
I only release a hold of my control when her pussy milks me dry.
Sagging into her, I ride my own wave of release, keeping my focus on her, her crumpled features, her soft song—mine.
She’s mine.
This is mine.
No one else will ever hear her song.
Just me.
And Brogan.
Whose holy racket suddenly penetrates my eardrums—the little fucker sure has a set of pipes on him.