Chapter 29 #2
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs, voice rough as his fingers slip under the hem of my shirt. “My girl. The mother of my son. And now…” He leans over me, lips brushing my ear, “mine to ruin all over again.”
My thighs clench.
He undresses me slowly, like unwrapping something precious, his eyes never leaving mine. And when I reach for his belt, he lets me, watching with a growl as I free him and wrap my hand around him.
“Jesus, sugar,” he groans. “You keep that up, and this is going to be over real quick.”
“Then stop talking and do something about it.”
His mouth crashes into mine again, all heat and hunger, and in one fluid motion, he’s inside me, deep, thick, stretching me in a way that makes my back arch off the bed.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, nails digging into his back.
He stills, forehead pressed to mine. “You okay?”
“Better than okay,” I whisper, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Now don’t you dare stop.”
He doesn’t.
Will moves like he’s got something to prove, like he’s reclaiming every second we were apart. Every roll of his hips pulls a moan from my throat, every thrust reminding me exactly who I belong to. And when we fall apart together, his name is the only thing I remember how to say.
We’re still tangled in the sheets, my legs draped over his as we catch our breath. The air is thick with sweat and satisfaction, but Will isn’t done. Not even close.
His hand trails up my thigh, slow and deliberate, until his palm settles on my hip. He shifts over me again, eyes dark and burning, but his touch is softer now.
“You still with me?” he asks, brushing a damp strand of hair from my cheek.
I nod, lips curved into a lazy smile. “Always.”
He leans in, kissing me, lips coaxing instead of claiming. And when he pulls away, his mouth traces a path down my jaw, over my throat, down the center of my chest.
I suck in a breath when his lips brush the swell of my breast.
“I missed this,” he murmurs, voice rough with emotion. “Missed the way you taste. The way you sound when I take my time.”
His tongue flicks across my nipple, and my back arches in response. He groans low in his throat like the sound I make fuels him.
“Will…”
“I love the way you say my name when I do this,” he whispers, sucking gently, then harder, his teeth grazing just enough to make my breath hitch.
He shifts, giving equal attention to the other side, kissing and licking slow circles while his hand palms the curve of my waist. His free hand slips between my thighs, teasing light and slow, keeping me on the edge as my milk comes in.
“You’re shaking,” he says, dragging his teet against my nipple.
“Because you’re driving me insane.”
“Good.”
Then, without warning, he slips inside me again—slow, deep, and so achingly intimate it steals the air from my lungs all while he sucks on my nipple.
This time, it’s not fast or wild. It’s slow torture.
He moves with purpose, like every thrust is a love letter, every kiss a vow.
His mouth never leaves my skin until I’m trembling all over again.
And when we fall apart the second time, I know for certain we’ve just made our second baby together.
I’m sprawled across his chest, still catching my breath, my fingers lazily tracing the ridges of his abs. Will’s hand strokes up and down my spine, slow and soothing, but there’s tension building again, coiling between us like static in the air.
His voice rumbles beneath my cheek. “You feel that?”
I lift my head, already grinning. “Feel what?”
His hips shift just enough to let me know exactly what he means. He’s already hard again, thick and hot against my thigh.
“God, Will,” I murmur, biting my lip. “Didn’t get enough the first two times?”
“Sugar,” he growls, flipping us in one smooth motion so I’m beneath him again, “I could spend all day buried inside you and still not have enough.”
Before I can fire off some smart remark, his mouth is on mine. There’s no patience left. Just hunger.
He kisses down my body like he’s mapping it, lips dragging over the curve of my stomach, tongue dipping into my navel. When he reaches the inside of my thigh, he pauses, glancing up with a wicked smirk.
“Tell me what you want.”
“You already know.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
I thread my fingers into his hair and tug, just enough to make him groan. “I want your mouth. I want your fingers. I want you to wreck me.”
He doesn’t need more convincing.
His mouth finds me fast, hot and wet and relentless. He knows exactly how to make me fall apart and he doesn’t let up until I’m writhing beneath him, panting his name like a prayer.
Then he’s kissing his way back up, his body covering mine, the head of his cock sliding against my entrance.
“Ready for me?”
“Always.”
He thrusts in hard, and my cry fills the room.
This round is rougher. Filthier. Our bodies slap together in a rhythm that’s fast and frenzied, the bed creaking beneath us as he takes me, one leg over his shoulder, hands gripping my hips, his eyes locked on mine.
“Look at me,” he commands. “Don’t look away.”
I don’t. Can’t.
And when we come it’s loud and messy and absolutely perfect.
He collapses on top of me, both of us slick with sweat and breathless with pleasure. His laughter is low and lazy in my ear.
“I’m gonna keep you in bed all damn day.”
“Promises, promises…”