Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
“On your hands and knees, woman,” he rasped, letting his palm crack on one of her ass cheeks sharply.
Redness bloomed there, and then he soothed it with his palm, rubbing and stroking as she did as she was told, rising onto her hands and knees on the mattress.
Kneeling behind her, he used his knees to notch hers further apart, then gripped his aching cock in one hand, pumping it from root to tip several times.
Feeling her come on his tongue, her hands in his hair, had gotten him hard again. He would never get enough of her.
Running the blunt head along her wet, glistening folds, he pushed in.
Transfixed, he watched with hooded eyes as her body swallowed him whole, the sight of his hardness disappearing inside that tight pussy hot enough to make him see stars already.
“You are so fucking perfect, Roxy. Fuck. Do you feel how well we fit together? You take all of me so fucking prettily.”
Dropping his hands to the slope of her waist, he spanned his fingers wide across her hips as she moved, shifting forward and then throwing herself back against him.
Her head dropped between her shoulders, arms outstretched and holding herself off the mattress.
She repeated the movement, moaning sharply when he went deep.
“Yes, oh fuck. Just like that. Fuck yourself on my cock,” he grunted, holding still as she continued to move on him, throwing her hips back as hard as she could, slamming him in as deep as she could take him, as deep as he could go.
Over and over again, she rode him from in front.
His mouth dropped open, brows drawing together into a deep V as he struggled to hold his orgasm at bay, fighting back the words that he ached to say.
He loved her. He loved her. He loved her.
He wanted to tell her, so that she knew how fucking important she was to him.
She was everything. But he didn’t want to tell her like this.
When he said those three words for the first time, it needed to be perfect.
“Goddamn. Take what you want, baby girl. Take all of it,” he whispered raggedly. “Take everything I have.”
“Travis,” she mewled, her back arching low, her round ass high. He grasped her hips hard in his hands and hammered into her, over and over again. She was quivering around him, tightening, and she sobbed, “I’m going to—Travis—”
Wrapping his hand around her throat, he hauled her up so that her back was flush against his chest, his other arm banding around her waist. Her head was thrown back against his shoulder, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, mouth dropping open in a silent scream as she came.
Her abdomen contracted wildly, her thighs shook, her pussy squeezing the fucking life out of him as he continued to slam into her.
“Fucking breathe, Red,” he rasped raggedly into her ear, because the fucking woman had stopped breathing as she came around him so hard it drew his own from him.
Harder, faster he thrust, until the tingle at the base of his spine ignited into sparks shooting through every one of his extremities.
Vision tunneling, he came hard, emptying into her with long, hot bursts.
Panting, chest heaving against her back pressed tightly to him with each breath, he held onto her as the world righted itself around them.
She was trembling, whole body shaking violently with the force of her climax and the aftershocks, still upright, her back pressed fully to his chest.
Sobs shook her then, and she clutched at his forearm still banded around her middle with trembling fingers.
He turned her face toward him, covering her mouth with his, kissing her with every ounce of hunger and possessiveness that coursed through him.
Tears tracked down her cheeks, and he swiped at them with his fingers.
Still they kissed, pouring everything into the other.
All the words he ached to say, but wouldn’t let himself. Not yet.
Gentle, sipping kisses replaced the fervent ones from before, but tears still trekked down her cheeks. “Roxy,” he whispered against her mouth. “Breathe, my love.”
A hiccupping sob escaped her, and then she was pulling away from him, turning in his arms. She threw her arms around his neck, burrowing her face in his throat as she clung to him. Her shoulders shook with her tears, and he hated it. It crushed his chest into dust.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, smoothing his hands over her hair as they sank into a sitting position on the bed. He cradled her close, but she shook her head. Finally, the tears seemed to slow. “Was I too rough?”
“God no,” Roxy laughed huskily, leaning away to swipe at her face with the heels of her hands. Leaning her cheek against his chest, directly over where his heart beat beneath it, she sighed, closing her eyes. “You’re perfect, Travis. This is everything I’ve ever wanted.”
Chest aching, throat burning to say the words, he swallowed them down. “Come on, baby girl. Let’s get some sleep. I think it’s been an emotional couple of days.”
She nodded, allowing him to tuck her in.
He padded into the tiny bathroom—they really would need to find something bigger soon, this loft was miniature in comparison to his bulk—and returned with a warm, wet washcloth.
He cleaned her up, shushing her with a stern look when she protested, and then slid into the bed behind her, curving his arm around her waist and pulling her tight against his chest.
“Go to sleep, Roxy,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the back of her neck. She snuggled into him, wrapping her arms around his arm that was banded around her. “I’ve got you. Always.”