16. That’s Not Fitting Anywhere #2
“I feel the same way about holding your hand. But for what it’s worth, Rosie, I think you’d be moving forward with or without me.
I’m not your strength. You’re your own strength.
” Fingers flutter across the line of my c-section scar, below the softness of my stomach.
“If you ever question it, this right here should be all the proof you need that you’re a badass with unmatched strength.
Because this scar tells a story. A story of a life you grew, a life you birthed, a family you built all on your own, one anyone would be so lucky to be a part of. ”
He pulls me tight against him, encasing me in his warmth and something that feels a lot like love. And me? I sink into it. I embrace all of it, because I think that’s what you do with love. You never know how fleeting it is, after all.
“That’s how I feel, Rosie. Lucky. So damn lucky to be a part of your family, however small a part of it I may be.
So grateful you let me into your lives. So grateful for these beautiful green eyes, and the kindest, widest smile that makes my heart feel so full.
So grateful for this strong, incredible body that gifted me a tiny little boy I didn’t know I needed, one I’ve fallen in love with.
So, thank you, Rosie. If you can’t see yourself for everything amazing you’ve done for you, I hope you can see everything amazing you’ve brought me. ”
My heart pounds a relentless beat as Adam takes my shaking hand in his, pulling it back.
“This, Rosie,” he murmurs, pressing my palm above his pattering heart. “It’s all for you.”
I don’t know why it feels so heavy, so deep, like being submerged in water, except it’s the good kind of drowning, where it gives you life instead of stealing it away.
Drowning in appreciation, in praise, in words that—for some reason—I know are genuine.
The realization is staggering, pulling a shaky breath from my lungs, making my knees wobble as the feel of this man encases me.
And when my knees give out, knocking me backward, I feel the heavy press of a bulge against my lower back, the sheer size and weight of it ripping a gasp from my throat.
Adam’s low chuckle skates down my neck. “Yeah, that’s all for you too.”
Fire blooms, crawling along every inch of me as he rakes two searing palms down my sides, grasping my hips so hard it straddles that pleasure-pain line in the most perfect way, like loosening his grip might mean losing me.
“I’d kiss every fucking inch of this body, worship it all, make it my only religion if you’d only let me.” He drags a single fingertip across my shoulder, my collarbone, dipping down to circle one tight nipple. “What do you say, trouble? You gonna let me?”
My back arches, pushing my aching breasts into his capable hands. “Please, Adam.”
He takes the weight of them so easily, squeezing, rolling my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, pulling every sound from my mouth.
Hot, wet kisses trail my shoulder, up my neck.
He traces each curve, draws a path across my belly, around the fullness of my hips.
He dips lower still, and when his touch ghosts past the spot I want him most, my entire body trembles, folding forward from the teasing, the satiety I’ve been denied, and the handsome fucker really chuckles
in my ear.
“I like you frustrated,” he tells me, pulling my ass back into him. He dips his hand between my legs, tracing my thighs, and he hums appreciatively as he finds the physical evidence of what he does to me coating me right there.
“I’d like your hand a little higher.”
“Mmm. Is that right?” Fingertips dance closer, so slowly it hurts, a desperate clenching low in my belly. “Here?” he whispers against my ear, sliding his finger through the wetness of my inner thigh.
“Higher, please.”
“Here then.” He traces the juncture of my thigh. “This must be the spot.”
“ Adam
.” His name is a garbled cry, drowning in desperation. “Please, touch me. I’ll do anything.”
“Such a pretty mouth, begging so nicely. You don’t have to beg though.” Two fingers slip slowly through my folds, giving me exactly what I want as I fall toward the mirror with a whimper, Adam’s mouth at my ear. “I’d never say no to you.”
My mouth opens on a sharp gasp as he pushes two fingers inside me and shows me another side of the man I thought I knew.
Adam is soft and gentle. Every word, every action, is careful and thoughtful.
The way he fucks me with his fingers right now, cobalt eyes blazing with heat, with power, is anything but.
It’s savage and ruthless, like he owns every inch of this body.
Like he wants my body to forever remember the shape of him, the possessive grip on my hip as he holds me to the mirror, the way his hand glides down, grabbing my ass like it was made for him to hold.
“This fucking ass. Nearly forgot to tell you how much I love it.”
“You don’t think it’s too big?” I manage.
“Too big? Is that a thing?” Fingertips dig into the soft flesh, squeezing me in his large palm. “Seems like the perfect size to me. Look how well it fits me.”
“Your hands are huge.”
He gives my ass a swift, gentle smack before sifting through the hair at the nape of my neck, locking our reflected gazes. “And your ass is fucking immaculate.”
A shudder ripples down my spine as Adam’s thumb finds my clit, moving with precision. “Why is you swearing such a turn-on?”
“Why can’t I talk like a gentleman when you’re naked and beneath my hands?”
I grin against his mouth when he steals a kiss. “I like you as a gentleman, but I love when you lose a little composure.”
“Well, thank fuck. Because I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind right now, and you’re the one stealing it.” He drags me away from the mirror, into his looming body. “So come here, trouble. Because if you’re stealing my mind, I get yours.”
The thrust of his fingers edges closer and closer to feral as they move faster, pump deeper, hitting a spot inside me nobody’s ever found. Heat climbs up my chest and wraps around my throat like a vine as my breath comes in heavy spurts.
I can’t take my eyes off Adam, the way his body looks behind mine, a home I’ve been searching for, a shelter I’ve craved. The way his electric blue eyes move over me, memorizing, reverent, like he’s in utter awe.
The ferocity lurking beneath his hooded lids pulls everything inside me tight. He wraps his hand around my throat, guiding my eyes to his in the mirror, his hand moving between my slick thighs.
“Fuck, Rosie. Look at you, pretty girl, dripping all over my fingers. Such a good girl, but you wanna be a little bit bad, don’t you?”
“Just for you,” I manage on a gasp.
“Yeah,” he rasps, hot breath rolling down my neck, shaking my spine with a shiver. “Just for me.” He presses his lips to my temple. “Can you do one more?”
“One more?” An edge of panic creeps into my voice, because this man’s hands are large
, his fingers thick
. I’ve been with one man, and…well, he sure wasn’t anything like Adam.
“One more,” he repeats, gently easing another finger in, holding me close while I gasp at the intrusion, stretching around him. “That’s my beautiful fucking girl, taking my fingers. Soon, it’ll be my cock.”
“Oh God,” I cry, and my soul starts leaving my body. “ Adam
.”
“I love the feel of your pussy squeezing my fingers when you’re close. And you’re close, Rosie, aren’t you?”
I rock against his touch, clutching at his hand as I try to answer him. “So…so… mmm
…”
“Close,” he finishes for me, the single word dipped in mirth and a bit of arrogance.
His fingers dive deeper, faster, his thumb strumming my aching clit, and everything inside me starts unraveling as Adam works his hot, wet mouth down the slope of my neck before whispering his command.
“Come on my fingers so you can come again on my tongue.”
On his tongue? But I’ve never—
“ Now
, Rosie.” He punctuates his order with the curl of his fingers, the firm press of his thumb to my clit, and something inside me snaps.
Stars explode behind my eyelids, but Adam gently squeezes my throat, and my gaze snaps to his.
“Those eyes belong to me when you’re coming for me. Who are you coming for?”
“You.” He tilts my head over my shoulder, and when our gazes collide, I come all over his hand, giving him the words he wants before he takes my mouth too. “God, Adam, you
.”
Large hands grip my waist, flipping me around and pressing me against the mirror. He drops his forehead to mine, both of us nothing but heaving chests, staggered breaths, shaking hands. Beyond the sound of our heavy breathing, I note the quiet, slow drip, drip, drip
beyond Adam’s opened French doors, leading to his balcony. The clouds break, and the setting sun basks Adam in an amber glow, lighting him like the god I think he is.
“The rain stopped,” I whisper, and my hands tremble as they slip down his abdomen to his hips, where I tuck my fingers into the waistband of his underwear, inching it down, and—
“Oh Jesus Christ.” I jump backward, one hand at my throat, the other pointing at…at…“Holy motherforking… shirtballs
.” My gaze jumps to his. “That is…I mean, that is just…” I point at his cock, shake my finger at it, then clap one fist into my opposite hand to distract from the that I’m freaking the fuck
out. I clear my throat. “Massive. That is…massive, my friend. Wheeew.” Bending over, I grip my knees and try to breathe.
“You okay?” he asks, and I hate the sparkle of humor in his eyes.
“Adam, I can’t possibly…that won’t…” Shaking my head, I take a step back, then another, and on the third, I trip over my feet, catching myself off the edge of Adam’s mattress.
He laughs, darting forward to help me up, I think, but I’ll never know for sure, because I skitter up onto the bed and crawl away from him as fast as I possibly can.