Chapter 26 #2
I looked up at him with saucer eyes for a second, realizing he was serious. Seriously obscene . But I wasn’t going to argue. So I spit in his hand, and then he coated the wetness onto his cock before lining himself up again. And then he thrust in. His whole thick cock was fully sheathed inside me.
“Charlie,” he groaned, forehead dropping to mine. “ Fuckkkk —you feel like heaven and sin wrapped in silk.”
I whimpered something broken. A curse. A plea. Maybe just his name.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he rasped, voice already wrecked, like holding back was killing him. “Tell me now before I lose every shred of fucking control I’ve got left.”
“Don’t you dare stop,” I whispered, clenching around him. “I want all of it. All of you. ”
He growled, the sound ripping from his chest that vibrated straight through me as he bottomed out. Our hips met with a wet, delicious pressure that made both of us groan, loud and shameless. I was full— so full —stretched to the edge of breaking and somehow still desperate for more.
“Jesus Christ, Fitz,” I gasped, blinking up at him. “You’re so big. ”
“I know, baby. You did so good taking me. Does it feel alright?”
“I’m good,” I whispered, dazed. “I’m— ohmygod —I’m so fucking good.”
He looked down at me, and I swear he almost came right then. His mouth dropped open, that perfectly reverent expression turning downright feral.
“You’re unreal,” he whispered. “This is the tightest, sweetest fucking pussy—gripping me like you’ll never let go. Gimme a sec. I don’t want to come before we’ve started.”
“Mr. Premature is up at bat again, I see.” I laughed at him with a twinkle in my eye and he cracked up, as we gave ourselves a second to adjust. I realized what was different — it wasn’t just the hottest sex of my life; we were laughing, having fun, entertaining each other.
He chuckled. “I won’t load the bases and drive it home just yet. Grab my balls and tug a little.”
I reached between us and slipped my hand down low.
God, they were heavy . Hot and full and pulled tight, hanging like a threat between his thighs.
My fingers curved around them gently at first, then gave a slow, teasing tug that made his hips jerk and his breath hitch into something halfway between a groan and a prayer.
“Shit,” he choked out, forehead crashing into my shoulder. “You’re gonna kill me. And what a sweet death it’ll be.”
“Just keeping you humble,” I whispered into his ear, licking the edge of it, smiling against his skin. “You know. Balance. For the sake of the game.”
He laughed again then pulled back enough to look me in the eye, still buried so deep it felt like we shared a goddamn soul. “If you keep doing that,” he said, voice hoarse and husky, “I swear, I’m gonna forget how to form full sentences. ”
“That’s alright. I don’t need your mouth at the moment when I’ve got dick for days inside me.”
He growled, catching my mouth with his again—this kiss dirtier, messier, all tongue and teeth and hands clawing under fabric. “For days?” he said with mock offense. “Charlie, come on. For years. For forever.”
Then he took my wrist, brought my hand back up to his chest and pinned it there. “Hold on,” he whispered, voice dropping to something guttural. “I’m gonna fuck you now, baby. Not play. Not tease. Fuck. Like I’ve been waiting forever for.”
And then he started to move forreal. Long, slow strokes at first with a swivel of his hips, deep enough to make my toes curl. He held my gaze while he fucked me, while his cock dragged over every hypersensitive inch inside me like he’d memorized it from the inside.
Then he thrusted forward so hard and full, and I swore the fucking glass behind me shuddered. “Fitz!” I cried, my voice wrecked, my nails digging into the back of his neck.
“Mark me,” he breathed, rough and reverent. “Make me yours in every way that matters—every scratch, every sound, every time I drive into you—make me forget who I was before this moment.”
And then he really started to pound into me. Each thrust drove me higher, made my body pulse around him, made my breath come in ragged, needy gasps. His cock hit something inside me that made me desperate to keep the friction there, my whole body arching, begging, clinging to him like a lifeline.
He rolled his hips with purpose, with sin, grinding at the end of each stroke like he was trying to rub his name into my womb. “Ten years,” he breathed, fucking me deep. “Ten fucking years thinking about this. Wanting you. Dreaming of how you’d feel wrapped around me.”
“Better than you dreamed?” I choked out, voice trembling.
He laughed, dark and shattered. “Charlie, I’d burn down the world to keep this. You— this —you’re worth starting wars over.”
I whimpered. My legs were shaking, wrapped tight around his waist, trying to pull him impossibly closer.
“I’m not stopping,” he said, voice hot against my lips. “Not until you come around me. Not until I feel you milk every drop from me. Not until you know you’re mine.”
“I’ve always been yours.”
“Charlie, fuck—” he bit out. “I need you to come.”
On his command, my body tensed like a drawn bowstring, every muscle coiling around the pressure building low and deep.
Fitz was still grinding into me, his cock stretching me just right—hot and thick and unforgiving—dragging against the swollen ache inside me until the pleasure turned sharp, cellular, impossible.
My breath caught. My fingers dug into his shoulders.
And then it hit me like a cresting wave suspended just a breath too long.
That instant where every muscle in my body went tight, breath caught in my throat, thighs trembling around him—not because I was resisting, but because my body knew.
The pressure had built to the edge of reason, that last moment of control flickering like a blown fuse.
“Oh fuck, baby,” he gasped, voice cracked wide open. “I—I can’t hold it?— ”
“Don’t,” I breathed, half-moan, half-order. “I don’t want you to. Oh God—I’m there. I’m right there with you—I can feel you—you’re pulsing?—”
And then—I was gone. It seized me from the inside out.
A rush of molten, pulsing release that didn’t ask permission.
It claimed me. My spine arched, my mouth fell open in a soundless cry, and my pussy spasmed hard around him, fluttering with desperate, involuntary clenches that gripped his cock like I was trying to pull him deeper, to hold him there forever.
“Charlie,” he growled, slamming in deep and holding, buried to the hilt as my body milked every inch. And then he let go.
“ Fuck, ” he groaned, voice torn. “You’re—God—you’re choking my cock, baby—gripping me like velvet—like your pussy won’t let me go. ”
His cock twitched once, then again, and I felt him pump inside me, his release hitting the deepest part of me with each involuntary jerk of his hips.
My hips bucked against him, chasing it, chasing everything , whimpering as each new wave wracked me with the aftershocks. I could feel it leaking around him, slippery and obscene and perfect. My body trembled—so sensitive I could feel every twitch of him still inside me.
And I held him there, both arms wrapped tight around his neck, legs still trembling around his waist, full of him in every way I could be.
H e stayed inside me.
His hands trembled slightly at my hips, his breath still ragged, and he didn’t move—not to pull out, not to readjust. He just stayed there, buried in me, his cock twitching once more in the warmth of me. “Don’t move,” he said, voice quiet, throat-scraped. “I want to stay in you and never leave.”
I didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.
He sturdied his grip under me as I held onto his neck, my legs wrapped around him, and then he walked us to one of the chairs I’d set out for people to sip coffee and watch the world go by. He sat down and settled me into his lap, still connected, still thick even while he was softening inside me.
I curled into Fitz, my arms resting around his neck, my legs folded in around his hips, and I let my head fall against his shoulder.
His lips found the exposed curve of my neck, and he kissed it once, warm and soft.
Then my ear. Then my cheek. Then the center of my forehead.
Then my nose. And finally, finally, his mouth brushed mine.
It was a soft kiss—the kind every girl dreams of.
His lips brushed mine with the reverence of someone handling something priceless—warm, sure, and slow.
There was no rush, no hunger to devour. Just intention.
The leisurely press of his tongue meeting mine like he had all night.
Like he wanted to memorize my mouth one perfect kiss at a time.
His hand cupped the back of my neck, fingers splayed, steadying me as his thumb stroked the line of my jaw.
Fitz knew how to seduce without taking, how to unravel without urgency.
He pulled back just enough to look at me.
“That kiss earlier? Our first kiss,” he said, eyes dark and soft and raw. “Best kiss of my life.”
I grinned, still breathless. “You say shit like that to all the girls while you’re still leaking inside them?”
“For fuck’s sake, Charlie,” he groaned, half-laughing, half-devastated. “Your timing is truly a gift.”
“So is my pelvic floor,” I shot back sweetly, batting my lashes.
“Goddammit, Winslow.” He cracked up. “Only you would say ‘pelvic floor’ during a romantic moment.” His eyes darkened, but his mouth curved—somewhere between amusement and reverence. “And anyway, I only say shit like that to the girls who own me.” His hand skimmed up my spine, slow and deliberate.
I kissed him again, until my lips tingled and his breath started to quicken—until I felt the slow swell of him thickening inside me, growing, hardening with every kiss, every grind of my hips against his.
He pulled back and looked at me, pupils dark but concern clear in his eyes. “Are you too sore?”
I shook my head. “I want more.”
That got him. He swallowed hard, jaw tight, hands already bracing at my hips like he couldn’t help himself.
But I pressed a hand to his chest. “Uh uh. Last time,” I leaned in, nipping his earlobe, “you fucked me silly, Whitmore. Now it’s my turn.”
He looked at me, shocked, which quickly gave way to lust, his head tipping back as I lifted myself off his cock—just enough to tease—then sank back down slowly, letting the stretch ignite every nerve.
He was full steel again, and the slide was hot and slick from everything he’d already spilled inside me.
I rode him slow at first, hips rocking in tight circles as his head dropped forward to rest against my shoulder.
“What do you like?” I whispered. “From the front? From the back? Tied to a chair?”
His laugh was strangled. “Fuck, I love seeing your face. Love being able to kiss you. But I plan on having you from every angle. ”
“Good,” I said, pulling off him, swiveling around on his lap, straddling him backwards. “Then watch this.”
I guided him back in—slow, torturous—and settled into the rhythm, my ass bouncing against his thighs with every stroke.
Each time I came down, I could feel the wet heat of his cum leaking around his cock, spilling out in milky streaks down the backs of my thighs.
And he had the perfect view of all of it.
“Jesus,” he hissed behind me, his hands braced on my hips. “Your pussy’s dripping—look at that mess—look what I did to you.”
I glanced back over my shoulder. “Like what you see?”
He didn’t answer. Just reached one hand down and slid his finger through it —his own cum mixed with my slick—and brought it up, rubbing slow, deliberate circles around the tight pucker of my ass.
I gasped. Loud. Sharp. My spine arched, my walls fluttering around his cock. “Too much?” he asked, voice breathless. “Fuck—I’ve never done that. I’ve always wanted to.”
I shook my head. “No. It’s not too much. I’ve played a little.”
He groaned. “God, Charlie ?—”
“But you can only play a little, ” I said, biting my lip, grinding down harder, “ if I get to play a little too.”
He choked on a laugh, then a moan as I clenched down around him again. “You own me,” he said, not even trying to be cool anymore. “Fuck—you can do whatever the hell you want to my body, my heart—it’s all yours.”
I turned around slowly, keeping him inside me, his cock slipping deeper again as I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Good,” I whispered, kissing him. “Because I’m never giving it back.”
And then we were kissing again—wet and open and messy—his tongue sliding against mine while I rode him through both our moans, both our pleasure peaking again, right there in the front of my bakery, under the golden light of a coastal summer night, with my slick thighs slapping his and his hands everywhere, owning me, giving himself up in return.
I broke first—again—my second orgasm crashing through me in a gasp against his mouth. And he followed, cock pulsing hot inside me once more, breath tangled with mine, both of us shaking. And still kissing. And still holding. And still not letting go.