62. Tee
Tee
Three minutes later
I f I didn’t know that Champagne couldn’t be an alternative for plasma in my blood stream, I’d say what was fizzing around my body was sixty-proof bubbly.
As his teeth tug on my bottom lip and he retreats, I don’t let him move. We stay that close, nose to nose, because even that’s too far. Especially as I admit, “I-I was afraid of what us meant.” My throat feels ridiculously full. “There’s this big bubble inside me, Cody, and I never want it to pop.”
“I’ll make sure it won’t. Your bubble is safe with me.”
A snotty, soggy laugh escapes me as I tuck my face into his chest. “Pinkie promise?”
Not only does he stick out his hand to hook his pinkie with mine, he growls, “I pinkie promise.”
I feel the vow inherent in those three words.
“I was watching you throughout the ceremony and I just felt like all these feelings inside me were going to explode and?—”
His lips gently press mine to still the torrent of words, and the instant calm that surges through me is both a relief and intoxicating.
I let myself fall into him, let him hold me up, let him embrace me.
I whimper when he retreats, but I sag deeper when he whispers, “You can always tell me how you feel and when you’re overwhelmed. It’s my job to make it right.”
“It really isn’t.”
“I disagree.” His fingers smooth over my jaw. “It’s your job to make me smile. To make the shit I wade through on a daily basis disintegrate when I walk through the door because you’ve brought home some homeless goats?—”
I stare at him. “Homeless goats?”
His lips twist. “Tell me that isn’t something you’d do.” His arched brow dares me to disagree, but I can’t so I pout. “You’ve been on the perimeter of my life since you were born, but I’ve never known how badly I needed your brand of madness. You are a breath of fresh air, Tee.”
I shiver in his embrace. “I try?”
Cody chuckles and rubs his nose along mine. “Don’t change.”
“I won’t. If you don’t.”
“In sixty years’ time?—”
“Sixty?” I croak.
“Not even that’ll be enough,” he rasps. “But when we’re old and decrepit, I still expect you to be driving me crazy on the regular.”
“That I can do, but only if you hold me like this and never let me go.”
“Agreed.”
He seals the deal with a kiss. The reconnection exactly what we both needed as my bones turn to goo and the pressure of his hands at my shoulders and lower back ground me, stirring my senses in a way that only he has ever done.
When his tongue gently circles my lips, I moan, parting them in a silent invitation, which he takes.
Sliding in, he teases me with his taste. And the scent of him, the feel of him—they’re everything I’ve ever wanted and more.
He, I know, is it for me.
He was it when he was Butch, and he’s doubled down on that by being Cody—our beginning might not have been honorable, but I know he is.
All the while, he’s shuffling us backward and he proves he’s in possession of superpowers because the bed connects with the backs of my calves. Strong hands guide me until I’m lying atop the mattress. The weight of him surrounds me next, pressing me into the bed, and I whimper as he palms my curves through my pajamas.
I scrabble my fingers over his spine, not stopping until my hands rub along his shirt-covered shoulders. I dig the fabric out from his waistband, tunneling beneath so that my nails can connect with his bare skin.
Experiencing his full-body shiver with him, I smile against his mouth, delighted at his responsiveness.
“Minx.” He pulls back, only to dot kisses over my chin, along my cheeks, nibbling my ear and tickling his tongue over the lobe.
The shudder that wracks through me makes the bed quake as my back arches in response.
“New development,” he rumbles, the vibration of his voice making me hum in delight.
The note drops as he explores my throat, laving it with his tongue tip, making shapes with it, then blowing over the faintly wet patches he leaves behind.
“Oh, please, Cody, touch me.”
“I am. You’re the tease, not me.”
“Lies!” I cry as my nails scrape up his back, then I groan when his hand shapes my braless breast. “Not the nipple!”
“You asked me to touch you,” he counters. “Have you changed your mind?”
I squeak when he pinches one, then shifts his weight so that he can lean up—the pressure of his cock against my core has me seeing stars.
Those stars turn into a supernova when he pinches both nipples.
“Might need to get you some nipple clamps.”
“No!”
“Why not? You like it when I do this.” Another harder pinch that has me keening. My brow furrows as I clench my eyes closed. “Tell me you don’t enjoy it, Tee. Even through your PJs, it has you going off like a rocket.”
“I-I can’t tell you I don’t enjoy it.”
“Then why no clamps?”
“I don’t enjoy pain.”
Another harder pinch. “Liar.”
I hiss at him, and he grins as he drags my PJ top up to gain access to me.
When his mouth finds the tip of one, I squirm on the bed.
The pleasure’s visceral—like electric shocks running along my spine. It’s a strange kind of sensation, not good, not bad, but it makes me feel like every nerve ending is alive.
Which is very, very hot.
Within seconds, I’m panting, hands scrabbling at his shirt, trying to get him naked too. Needing him inside me. Wanting more. Craving everything. Knowing that’ll never be enough either.
Then, with a final kiss, he starts his path downward.
I groan when he shoves at my fuzzy sleep shorts, tucking them aside to study my slit.
“How badly do you want my dick?”
I release a sob.
“That much, huh?” he continues as if I let loose a hum. “So empty,” he croons.
“Y-Yes. Fill me, please. Fuck me, Cody, please!”
The chant is a litany. My heels dig into his butt as I wriggle and writhe, wanting more than his tongue, needing him to fill me because I’m so goddamn empty?—
He rears up, one hand at his fly, the other releasing himself so that his dick sticks out of the zipper.
When he rubs the tip over my clit, I shudder again. “Please, please, please.”
“Love it when you beg for me, Tee,” he growls, sliding over and over, endlessly, forever, tirelessly driving me mad, making me crazy?—
His head bows, and that’s all the warning I get.
His lips are back around my nipple and with one bite, he’s thrusting into me.
I scream.
My nerve endings chant the national anthem as my vision turns black and I float, adrift in an ocean of sensation that I want to revisit every night. (Maybe twice.)
“That’s it, baby. Scream for me,” he orders as he pumps deep, feeding every inch inside my grasping pussy, leaving me desperate for everything he has to give. Desperate for him. Desperate for this. For more. For our future together.
It turbocharges, growing ever more powerful as my senses shut down, making him the center of my chaotic universe.
As he fucks me into the mattress, I abandon the grooves my claws left behind on his back and use the headboard to ground myself.
He notices—of course, he does. His arms tuck under my shoulders and he holds me to him.
I don’t know why, but that makes his thrusts more brutal. I feel his length like a burning brand as he tunnels into me, planting a flag with his name on it because he’s the only one who ever conquered my pussy.
Tomorrow, I know I’ll be walking funny, and it’s so worth the sacrifice.
My fiancé— squee —knows how to fuck me reallllll good.
When he graces my teethmark-free nipple with another bite, not a nip but an out-and-out bite and then a deep hum that vibrates through the sensitive tissues, I shatter around him, unable to stave it off, going along for the ride now as he uses my body for his own pleasure.
My climax is as brutal as his endless thrusts, annihilating my bones, shattering them into a million tiny pieces, breaking me apart only to reform me in an image that takes every inch of his dick better.
While I disintegrate into the ether, he roars his release, filling me full. Draining himself inside me as my pussy cossets and clings, wanting every drop because he. Is. Mine. And his seed. Is. Mine. And his pleasure. Is. Mine.
Everything, every flaw and every quirk, it all belongs to me.
That bubble inside me is back to feeling like it’s on the brink of explosion, but in a good way.
In a ‘my cup runneth over’ way.
Unlike yesterday, it couldn’t possibly be overwhelming because he is perfect for me, and even if I’m not used to perfection, that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve it.
If anything, the bubble is proof that my dating history did a number on me because clearly this queen deserves her king.
When he slumps on top of me, my eyes focus on the ceiling as I cling to him and he clings to me, legs wrapped around his waist holding him close, never wanting to let him go because he’s my Butch and I’m his Calamity Jane and nothing will change that.
Not even the body found at the Seven Cs that had Callan in a panic when he called us.
Nor the fact that my future father-in-law could have murdered my best friend…
This maelstrom is us, and no matter what’s hurled our way, we’ll handle it together like the badasses we are.