Epilogue #2
His praise makes me smile and I gingerly flick open his jeans and lower his zipper. He must feel the slight tremor in my fingers because he places a warm palm over them while lifting my chin with his other hand.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, baby.” His tone is deep and soothing and warms my chest.
“I want to. I wanna know how good you taste.”
He nods his approval, then I reach inside his boxer briefs and wrap my fingers around his velvety-soft dick.
I pull him free of his jeans and his hard, thick length bobs in front of my face.
A shiny bead of precum appears on the tip, and before I can stop myself, I lean forward and swipe my tongue across it.
“Fuck,” he hisses, keeping his eyes on me.
He removes his shirt while I tug his jeans down to his mid-thighs.
That’s as far as I go before my mouth demands another taste of him.
Cupping his balls in one hand and wrapping my other tightly around his base, I take his rigid length into my mouth, pushing the thick head between my lips and teasing the underside of his cock as it passes over my tongue.
“Goddamn, baby, that feels good.”
I love it when he talks to me like this and it encourages me to take him farther into my mouth. Up and down, I bob on his dick, humming as I enjoy his salty-sweet flavor. My pussy aches and drips my arousal down my inner thighs as I devour this man as if I can’t get enough of him.
When he hits the back of my throat, I moan my enjoyment and open my mouth wider to accommodate him. But he swiftly pulls out, the suction breaking with an audible pop, and my gaze flicks to his with confusion.
“I’m not coming down your throat, Jenna. Not until after I fill your little pussy with my cum.” His dirty words cause said pussy to drip onto his carpet.
Suddenly, Oliver lifts me from the floor and tosses me onto the bed as if I weigh nothing, instead of almost two-hundred pounds. There’s no time to be shocked at his strength before he completely disrobes and pushes his way between my thighs.
His forehead drops to mine. “Fuck, Princess. I need you.”
He guides himself to my entrance, rubbing slow circles against my slick folds, teasing me until I’m nearly crying with desperation. I’m expecting him to ease his way in, but desire takes over and he shoves every inch inside me with one thrust until I gasp and dig my nails into his shoulders.
The stretch is perfect. Deep. Full. Absolutely mind-blowing.
“Oh god… Daddy,” I moan.
He shudders with each drive of his hips. “You feel fucking incredible, Princess.”
Every breath leaves me faster than the last until I’m panting and writhing on the bed. When he hits so deep I can feel him everywhere, the air whooshes from my lungs.
He stops halfway in, forcing his own control, kissing my jaw, my cheeks, my temple. “Breathe, Princess. Can’t have you passing out now, can I?”
He slows his pace, coaxing me to relax with each kiss he presses to my sweat-dampened skin.
My body is on fire, burning hotter every second. “Oliver—”
“Look at me.”
I do. His expression is raw and hungry, yet affectionate. It makes my heart stutter.
He starts to move again, slow at first, deep strokes that drag against every sensitive place inside me. His hands slide under my back, pulling me closer with each thrust.
I cling to him, panting, moaning, overwhelmed with how good he feels, how right this moment is. It’s terrifying and real and beautiful. Something I’ve never felt before and something I’m sure I’ll never experience with anyone else.
“You’re perfect,” he says between flicks of his hips. “So fucking beautiful.” He drives deeper inside me, and I almost cry from how good it feels. “I’ve wanted you for years.”
My body tightens, desperate for release. “Oliver, I—”
He grips my hips, pinning me down as he thrusts deeper. “Come with me, baby. Show me you want me too.”
My breath catches as every muscle inside me tenses.
“Let go, Princess. I’ve got you.”
I fall apart again—harder, louder—with my whole body shaking as he keeps moving, keeps kissing me, keeps murmuring praise against my mouth.
He follows right behind me, shuddering through his orgasm with a low, ragged groan that vibrates through both our bodies.
Then he collapses, catching himself so he doesn’t crush me, and buries his face in my neck.
For a long, quiet moment, we just breathe, our hearts beating in time together.
Finally, Oliver pulls back enough to look at me. “You okay?” he asks softly.
I trace the line of his jaw, my body still trembling. “More than okay.”
He gives me a satisfied smile as he pulls me against his chest, tucking me beneath his arm and kissing the top of my head.
This feels more like love than anything I ever had before.
But I’m not rushing. I’m not going to say it, even though it feels right. Because Oliver isn’t going anywhere.
And for the rest of our lives, neither am I.
Raise your hand if you want more of Officer Stevens!
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