Chapter 58 #3
“I can’t — fuck, June. I’m gonna lose it,” he admitted, voice thick with frustration and want.
I shook my head, breathless. “Don’t. Please don’t.”
“You’re mine,” he growled softly. “Every inch. I wanna taste you, touch you — worship you till you forget everything else.”
He took one nipple between his teeth, sucking gently, fingers swirling around the other. I whimpered, trembling under his touch, hips tilting up, aching for more.
“I’ll last,” he promised, voice rough but certain. “I’m not leaving you hanging tonight.”
He wasted no time yanking his own sweats off, palming himself once through his boxers before those disappeared too.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect like this,” he murmured against my lips, voice thick with need. “Every curve, every inch… you drive me insane, June.”
“Wait — wait,” I breathed, pushing back on his chest lightly. He moved instantly.
“Did I hurt you? Shit, baby.”
“No,” my tongue darted out to wet my lips. “I want to…” Heat licked up my spine. “Let me see you.”
Lust flashed through his vision, and then a grin unfurled. He leaned back, pulling me upright with him.
Shit.
It wasn’t the length that caused my jaw to drop — though he was more than adequate — but the sheer girth of him. I reached out to wrap my fingers around him, but he quickly pulled my wrist away.
“Trust me, I am more than happy for you to get acquainted, baby. But—” A deep breath, another, shier, smile. “—if you touch me right now… I’m not going to last.”
With that, he pushed me gently back onto the mattress, hovering over me. “Nothing fancy tonight, sweetheart. Just you, just me.”
I shivered under his touch, chest rising and falling fast as his hands cupped my ass, pulling me closer. His breath hitched, and I could feel the hard, unyielding promise of him pressed against me, desperate and raw.
“I’m right here, baby,” he whispered, fingers tangling in my hair, pulling my head back just enough to look into my eyes. “You ready for me?”
I nodded, breath trembling. “Please.”
He lined up slowly, teasing the tip just inside me, his hand still wrapped around my waist, steadying us both.
“Ansel” I gasped. The way he was stretching me bordered on painful, but the pleasure that came from his warmth was so much greater. “I don’t think—”
“It’ll fit,” he groaned, pressing his forehead to mine. His hand crept down between us, thumbing my clit. “You can take it, baby.”
I was hardly a virgin, but the way his hips jerked against me, the way just the tip of him stretched me, made me feel like maybe I hadn’t ever experienced this before.
“You’re mine,” he said, voice low and fierce. “So fucking tight. God, you feel so good, Juniper. Fuck.”
He rolled his hips, pushing himself further, slow and delicious, and I gasped as he paused, letting me adjust, letting me feel every blessed bit of him. A moan bubbled up from the back of my throat, but he covered my mouth with his hand, grinning wildly.
“Yeah?” he asked, hips stuttering against mine as he refrained from moving in too much.
“Yeah,” I nodded, too quick, tears pooling in the corners of my eyes. “Yes, Ansel.”
“I’m going to ruin you,” he promised, sliding deeper now, every inch worshiped like a sacred secret. “Make you scream my name.”
I bit my lip, fingers clutching at his back, breath hitching as he filled me completely, slow and steady. “But not tonight — tonight, you’ll take all of me and you’re not going to make a sound.”
All I could do was whimper in response, pulse climbing higher as I adjusted to him.
“Fuck, you’re incredible,” he groaned, burying his face in the crook of my neck. “So fucking beautiful. So goddamn perfect for me.” His hips rocked once, tentatively, testing, and I arched against him, desperate for more.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered, voice shaky. “Please, please, Ansel.”
“Pretty when you beg,” he muttered against the skin behind my ear, rocking against me. With one arm, he propped himself up, pressing his forehead against mine.
With his other…
His hand trailed slowly down the length of my body before settling at the place we were connected. “Don’t care if it’s cliché, Junie.” He panted, eyes locked on mine. “Wanna come with you.”
“That’s not real,” I whimpered, arching my back as his fingers pressed gently against my clit.
“With me? With you? It is.” He picked up the pace, his hips crashing against mine as he pounded into me. My back bowed off the mattress as he pressed harder, stroking circles against my clit.
“Need me to suck your pretty tits? That help you come?” He growled in my ear, low and sinister, almost.
I didn’t have time to answer before his mouth descended on my right nipple, teeth already rolling the peak.
It was too much, and not enough all at once. Every sensation, every piece of him that filled me completely. “Ansel—” I broke on his name, my voice wrecked, shaky, almost unrecognizable.
He was everywhere — his mouth dragging wet over my chest, his breath hot on my skin, his hips slamming into me like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to make it last or burn it all down in one perfect moment.
“Yeah, baby, I know,” he groaned, his voice ragged, like he was feeling the same wild, panicked need clawing through me. “I can feel you gripping me. Jesus—”
My nails dug into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks, my legs locked around his hips, dragging him deeper, needing him closer. Every inch of him was hot and hard and mine, and I didn’t care if I left him bleeding.
He lifted his head just long enough to look at me — sweat dripping down his temple, jaw tight, pupils blown so wide they swallowed the green. “You’re gonna take all of it, kid. Every fucking drop.”
The sound I made was desperate, almost a sob, as he pressed his forehead against mine again, our mouths just brushing.
His hand stayed between us, relentless, rubbing hard and fast over my clit while his thrusts got messy — less rhythm, more frantic, like his body was fighting his own promise to last.
“Oh my god, Ansel—” My voice cracked as the heat surged through me, curling my toes, stealing my breath.
“Come for me,” he rasped, the words ripped from his chest like a command he couldn’t hold back. “Right now. With me.”
I shattered, the world blurring as my body clenched around him, dragging him with me. The entire world spun around us. All I knew was his touch, his thrust, his moans. But even as my head tipped back and white filled my vision, he never stopped moving.
He groaned loudly against my mouth, hips driving hard into mine with several uneven stutters before he spilled inside me, holding me so tight I could barely breathe. His cock twitched again, against my walls, and I could have sworn I could feel him in my throat. He was everywhere.
Ansel Barlowe completely, fully, wonderfully encapsulated me.
He stayed like that as our hearts continued to race in time… still inside me, still deep, still holding me like he’d die if I pulled away.
His chest was heaving against mine, his mouth dragging hot and wet over my jaw, my neck, my shoulder — like he couldn’t get enough of my skin, like he was starving for it.
And it hit me all at once — how badly I wanted him, how badly I’d always want him, how stupid I’d been to think I could keep this locked away forever. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt. My nails dug into his shoulders. My throat burned.
“I love you.”
It tore out of me like I’d been holding my breath for months and finally broke the surface. Not sweet. Not careful. Just raw and shaking and so full it almost hurt to say.
He went still for a second — one heartbeat, maybe two — and then he groaned. Low and wrecked. His head tipped forward until his forehead pressed to mine, eyes squeezed shut like the words had punched the air right out of him.
“Say it again,” he rasped, already moving. Already pushing deeper.
“I love you.”
That was it. The last thread of control in him snapped.
His mouth crushed mine, all tongue and teeth and hunger, kissing me like he was trying to get the words down his throat and keep them there.
His hands fisted in my hair, yanking me closer, his hips driving into me harder, faster, like he couldn’t stand the thought of not being in me when I said it.
“Fuck, June—” His voice was ragged, breaking, like I’d just undone something in him that could never be put back together. “You don’t get to say that and expect me to be gentle.”
He pinned my wrists over my head, teeth scraping my bottom lip before he kissed me again — messy, desperate, tasting of sweat and salt and something I’m not sure I’ve ever felt from him before. “Who said I wanted gentle?” I whimpered against him.
Every thrust was a snarl in his throat, every drag of his mouth over my skin was desperate, uncoordinated, like his body was moving faster than his brain could keep up. “I love you,” he groaned into my neck, voice breaking, “fuck, love you so much—”
And then it all slammed into me — white-hot, all-consuming, my back arching under him so hard I thought I might break. I heard him — low, guttural, almost pained — as he followed me over, his hips grinding into mine like he was trying to stay inside me forever.
He collapsed over me, panting, his face buried in my hair, and for a long time, neither of us moved. Just the sound of our breathing, the tremble in his arms, the feel of his heart pounding against my ribs.
He kissed my temple. My cheek. My mouth. Again and again, like he couldn’t stop. “Say it again,” he whispered, raw and hoarse.
“I love you, Ansel Barlowe.”