Epilogue #2
“I know you want it,” I murmur, my fingers slipping just beneath the waistband of her panties, dipping lower. “But you’re going to have to wait for me to give it to you.”
I slide down her body slowly, my mouth trailing kisses over her skin, kissing the sensitive spots behind her knees, her thighs, teasing her, pushing her to the edge.
Her body shivers under my touch, every inch of her alive, reacting to me.
And when I finally slide my mouth over her, when I taste her, deep, slow, unrelenting, I don’t let up. I take everything she gives, pulling her apart with each flick of my tongue, each pressure of my mouth.
I feel her body tense, the way she pushes against me, trying to force me to go faster, but I don’t. I make her wait, make her beg again, because I need her to know who’s in control.
“Sara,” I whisper against her skin, my voice dark and thick with desire. “I’m going to make you beg for everything you’ve ever wanted. I’m going to make you come so hard you forget your name.”
And when she does, when she finally breaks beneath me, her body shuddering, her back arching off the bed, her hands gripping the sheets because they’re the only thing keeping her grounded, I know I’ve won.
I lean over her, my body pressing down against hers, feeling her heart race beneath my chest, and I whisper into her ear, “Now we can really get started.”
Without warning, I flip her over, pressing her into the sheets as I lift her hips into position, exactly how I want her.
Her breath hitches, and I pause for just a second to take in the view, flushed cheeks, tousled hair, the curve of her back arched just for me.
The sight alone nearly undoes me.
My hands grip her thighs, her skin hot and silken beneath my palms. She shifts beneath me, the anticipation written in every line of her body, and when I thrust into her, deep and hard, a raw, broken gasp tears from her throat.
That sound. That desperate, breathless sound. I’ve been dreaming of it.
She clenches around me, trembling under the force of every stroke, and I swear I lose myself in the feel of her, the heat, the tight, perfect fit of her. My grip tightens as I drive into her again, harder this time, dragging another moan from her lips.
“Fuck, Nick… yes!” she cries, her voice ragged and wild, and it shatters something in me.
All the control I’d been clinging to slips through my fingers. I grab a fistful of her hair, tugging gently but firmly, forcing her head back so I can lean in, teeth grazing the curve of her shoulder.
The way she arches into it, the way she gives herself over to me, spurs me on.
The rhythm turns punishing, my hips slamming into hers, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the room. Her moans come faster, louder, as pleasure mixes with the sharp sting of each movement.
Her hands clutch the sheets, holding on for dear life, and I know she’s close, so fucking close.
“Nick,” she chokes out, barely able to form the words. “I’m gonna… please, don’t stop.”
I pull out suddenly, and she lets out a desperate, keening sound that shoots straight to my spine.
“Stay just like that,” I growl, low and commanding. “We’re not done.”
She obeys without hesitation, back arched, waiting, breath trembling. I run my hands over her hips, down the back of her thighs, savoring the way she shivers under my touch.
Then I slide back in, slower this time, inch by inch, and she lets out a whimper that might as well be worship.
Her body grips me tight, pulsing with every deep, deliberate thrust. I reach forward, one hand splaying across her lower back, anchoring her in place, the other sliding up to tangle in her hair again.
“Fuck, you feel like heaven,” I groan, burying myself in her over and over. “So good, baby… so fucking good.”
She’s unraveling beneath me, her cries turning into soft, helpless little sounds that fuel every thrust. Her hips meet mine with a frantic rhythm, the need in her matching the hunger in me.
“You’re gonna come for me,” I growl into her ear, my voice harsh with restraint. “You’re mine, Sara. Every breath, every moan… it’s mine.”
And when she comes, when her body tightens and shatters around me, her scream muffled by the pillow, her fingers clawing at the sheets, I lose it.
The pleasure crashes over me in a tidal wave, fierce and consuming. I drive into her one last time, spilling into her as our bodies collapse together, trembling, panting, utterly wrecked.
I rest my forehead against her spine, her heartbeat a frantic thrum beneath my lips. And in the stillness that follows, with our bodies tangled, our skin slick with sweat and satisfaction, I whisper, “You’re everything, Sara. My wife. My obsession. My home.”
The end.