Chapter 11
Ready, Aim, Fire
Jake
Legs on legs. Arms on arms. Stomach on back. Dick inside.
Every part of us is touching.
I push into her like an uncontrollable animal hurling my hips forward.
Yes, I'm using my constraint techniques to keep myself from coming. It’s barely working.
Not yet. Not ever. If we keep doing this, exactly this, it never has to end.
But it does.
There’s no way to stop it. Because she’s moaning.
And groaning.
And grunting.
Faster and faster. Her hips fighting against the bed and my hips. They have nowhere to go. She’s pinned.
Taking it.
Liking it.
I want to hear my name again, but I don't want to ask her to say it. I’m afraid to say anything. To fuck up this glimmer of a moment. Everything is about to change. But I can't stop it. I can’t hold it. I need her.
I shove my hands between her and the bed, grabbing her nipples and roughing my thumbs down over them just a bit.
She screams as she comes. Actually screams. Loud. I barely get my dick out in time and come all over her ass.
It’s a ridiculous amount of come. I guess I've been a little backed up.
I clean her off, fall to my side, grab her, and pull her to me.
I slip my dick back inside her while it’s still a bit hard. We fall asleep still touching everywhere.
Complete. Safe. Satisfied.
This is the happiest I’ve felt in a long time.
It makes for the deepest sleep.
It’s probably how I missed the sound of the lock getting picked. And the gun cocking above us.
But I woke up when Jeremy, Bingham’s oldest son, shot Marnee.