9. Mike
Nine
Mike
I wake up hard.
Not just morning wood. Not just I-had-a-dream hard.
Ravenous.
And she’s right there.
Lying next to me, curled into my side like she belongs there.
Which she does.
Her skin’s warm.
Soft.
Smells like sweat, lavender, and the sex we didn’t stop having last night.
Her leg’s tossed over mine.
Her bare thigh pressing right up against my cock like she wants me to lose it.
I stare at the ceiling.
Try to breathe.
Try not to roll her over and shove my dick inside her until she’s screaming my name.
It’s no use.
Not with her whimpering softly in her sleep, shifting just enough to grind into my hips.
I groan and bury my face in her neck.
She smells like heaven.
And she moan when I kiss her there.
“Shanay,” I whisper, kissing lower.
She stirs.
“Mike?” voice husky.
I roll her onto her back, body moving before I even think.
“I need you.”
She blinks up at me, eyes wide. “Yeah?”
I don’t answer.
I slide the sheets off her body and look at her like I’ve never seen anything so perfect.
She’s naked.
Hair mussed.
Mouth soft and kiss-bitten. All curves. All woman.
“Gonna give it to you hard this time,” I murmur, sliding my hand between her thighs.
She gasps—already wet.
Already waiting.
I grip my cock and stroke it once, slow and rough.
“I’m gonna fuck this sweet pussy raw. Fill it. Breed it. Make sure you know you’re mine.”
Her breath catches.
And then she nods.
That’s all I need.
I push inside her—slow, deep, every thick inch.
She cries out, arching into me.
“Mike—”
“I know, baby.”
I bury myself to the hilt and stay there, grinding against her. I want to get her pregnant tonight.
“You’re made for me,” I growl into her mouth. “You feel that?”
She nods frantically, thighs trembling.
“Not gonna pull out, baby,” I whisper. “Gonna fuck you full.”
She moans. Louder this time.
I move.
Harder.
Deeper.
Slamming into her like I’m trying to fuck the thought of anyone else out of her body.
“You like being used by daddy?”
“Yes—yes, daddy—”
“Good. Because I’m not done.”
I pull out and flip her on her stomach.
Yank her hips up.
Then I push in again—rougher, rawer.
Deeper.
She sobs into the pillow.
And I lose it.
“You’re gonna come for me,” I growl, slamming into her from behind. “Then you’re gonna clean me up with that pretty mouth.”
And she does.
God, she does.
I spill inside her, hot and thick, hips jerking with the force of it.
And she shudders under me, coming with a cry so wrecked it echoes in my soul.
—-
I pull out slowly, and she whimpers at the loss.
Then I cup her chin and nudge her toward my cock.
“You remember how I said you were gonna suck me off after?”
She nods, wrecked and already sliding down the bed.
I sit up, cock still hard and leaking.
And when she wraps those soft lips around me—eyes glassy, cheeks hollowing out—I lose my fucking mind.
She gags. Cries a little.
And keeps going.
And I let her.
Because she’s mine.
By the time I come again, she’s on her knees, drool running down her chin, and I’m gripping her hair like a man possessed.
I wipe her mouth gently when it’s over.
Pull her back into bed.
Wrap her up in my arms.
And whisper into her hair:
“You’re not going anywhere.”