Chapter Five #2
“You’re so fucking hot when you come, you have no fucking idea!
” he growls, backing me to the wall. My hands hang loosely on his shoulder as he unfastens his jeans and yanks down the zipper.
He pulls my hips closer and I whimper when the blunt head of his cock nudges at my entrance, a fresh wave of need flooding through me.
“I can’t get enough of you, Iris. I never will. ”
“I can’t either,” I whisper, burying my face to kiss his neck so he doesn’t see the wet sheen in my eyes. “I always want you, Ghost. Take me. Make me yours.”
He thrusts himself into me with enough power to send me up the wall.
I cry out, fingers digging into his skin as he buries every inch of that hard cock into my pulsing pussy.
He’s so big and my body hasn’t yet adjusted to his wide girth, so I welcome the pain that comes with the pleasure.
He yanks down the top of my dress, letting my breasts spill out of it and when he leans down to take a beaded nipple between his lips, I cry out.
My sex clenches hard around his shaft, pulsing needily as he sucks at my bead, rolling his tongue around it until I’m practically rocking into him, hoping to ease the ache between my thighs. “Ghost!”
He releases my nipple with a wet pop and brings those heated eyes back to mine. The need in them floors me. I read affection in his eyes and it chips at me. What I’m going to do to him chips at me.
Will he ever forgive me?
Whatever feelings he has for me…how long will they linger before he moves on to another woman.
“Iris,” he rasps deeply, grabbing my ass cheeks as he rocks into me, those intense eyes unraveling me. “So beautiful. All mine. You’re mine.”
“Yours,” I choke out, pushing in to kiss him as he drives his cock into me, stroking me faster and harder each time.
The kiss is wet and desperate, loaded with feelings neither of us dares to voice.
Our bodies fit together like a puzzle, moving as one.
My mouth clings onto his as he hammers into me, faster and deeper, pulling me back onto the edge I just climbed off.
Yours.
Forever yours.
The words are silent in my heart as I come apart, clenching hard around his shaft.
He slams hard into me twice before he follows, groaning against my mouth as he pours himself into me.
Our bodies tremble together, shaking through the orgasm that robs us of our breath.
I sob as pleasure floods through me, cinching hard around him until I’ve milked him to the last drop.
We’re panting when he collapses against me, burying his face in my neck. I nuzzle his hair and push back the tears that threaten to spill. I can’t cry. Can’t let him know how much heartbreak we’re about to endure.
He’d never let me leave.
“That built my appetite considerably,” he murmurs into my skin. “I could eat now.”
“Well, glad I could help.”
He laughs, pushing back to look at me. He cups my cheek and brushes his lips softly against mine. “Let’s eat.”
After dinner, he leans back with a self-satisfied grin on his face. “That was amazing. Best meatloaf I’ve had in my life. Give me a minute and I’ll clear the table,” he says, but I shake my head, getting up to do so. It’s the last time I’ll ever get to do it for him anyway.
“I’ll do it,” I say, clearing out our dinner plates and storing the leftovers in the fridge. I take a moment in the kitchen to calm down and push out all those negative thoughts before making my way back to him with a bowl of dessert.
“Gelato,” he beams, already licking his lips but I move it out of his way when he reaches out.
“I think I forgot to bring a spoon,” I say, placing the bowl on the table and out of arm’s reach.
Those eyes fire up with heat when I slide a finger into the bowl and through the creamy dessert before bringing it to my mouth and licking it clean.
“Hmmm, I think this is the most delicious thing I’ve ever made. ”
“Then why don’t you let me have a taste?”
“Me first,” I say, getting to my knees between his parted thighs and reaching for his zipper.
His expression turns to that of need as I tug down his jeans and take his cock into my hand.
I reach over with my free hand and dip a finger into the gelato and spread the ice cream over his length—he gasps at the feeling, growing harder by the second—and slowly, with my eyes locked on his, lean in to lick it off him, brushing the tip of my tongue over the crown of his shaft and drawing a fevered moan out of him.
I drink up the expression on his face. Everything from the way those dark brows furrow, to the bright, earthy brown of his dazed eyes and that mouth that has sent me to heaven and back.
His body is a piece of art, perfect in form and inside it holds a heart made of gold.
One I thought I’d have longer to treasure.
When the tears come, I dip my mouth around his cock before he can see them.
I hold still, gagging around his shaft, swallowing around him like he taught me to do.
When those tears fall, he thinks they’re from choking on his cock.
I lick around his erection, tuned in to every sound he makes, every inch of his body that tenses, the way his fingers feel when they slide into my hair and guide me into pleasuring him.
I edge him as he’s done to me many times before, and when he’s close, he pulls his wet cock out from my gasping lips. “My turn,” he growls, laying me on the dinner table as he reaches for the melting ice cream.
We make love for hours, licking the ice cream off each other.
We take the fun to the shower and then later to bed.
He falls asleep first and for an hour, I lie curled up next to him, watching him sleep.
I run my fingers through his hair then trace them slowly over his muscles, committing every touch and every scent to memory.
I watch him until I’m certain nothing could ever erase him from my mind. Not time. Not distance.
“I love you,” I whisper, brushing my lips over his brow and if they linger, then I’m only human.
It takes everything in me to pull away from him.
I take out the letter I wrote earlier and place it on my pillow before sliding into my coat.
I don’t grab my purse, clothes or any of the toiletries he brought over from my place.
Just like I did six months ago when I went into witness protection, I leave everything behind.
This time, I am leaving much more than just my physical belongings behind.
I’m leaving my heart.
With a last glance at the naked man lying on his back, a large tattooed arm tossed over his eyes, I decide it’s time to leave. I don’t hold back the tears. No, I let them fall as I turn away.
Please don’t hate me.