Chapter 16 #3
“Goddamnit, Violet.” I hiss through clenched teeth, a fire erupting under my skin when she fists my cock, dragging her tongue along the engorged vein, circling her tongue over the crown, licking and sucking it like it’s the sweetest popsicle.
I let out a deep groan as her lust-filled eyes rise to mine, and she swallows me to the back of her throat, her long hair caressing my thighs like hot silk.
The sight of her beautiful lips taking all of me, choking on me, and the sound of her needy whimpers as she moans over my cock is almost too much.
Every muscle coils in a desperate attempt to hold back, my goddamn balls about to unleash a firestorm into her mouth.
My hands find her waist, and I drag her up to me, my ragged breaths spilling out hard and fast. “Fuck, Violet, come here, baby.”
“Is everything okay?” Worry swirls through the green in her eyes as she takes in my pained expression.
“Yes, Violet. Everything is more than fucking okay, but I need to fuck you before I go out of my damn mind.”
“Oh,” she says, her lips tilted in an adorable smile.
“Why didn’t you say?” The words barely leave her mouth before I attack her lips with a teeth-baring kiss that steals my fucking breath away.
She whimpers with relief, her head rocking back when I guide her onto my cock, letting her slowly sink onto me.
“You take my cock so damn well, baby,” I croak, the sweetest sensations ripping through me like dynamite.
A fevered yes tumbles out as she writhes over me, pumping my dick so fast and hard I have to clench every muscle to avoid blowing after one thrust. In this position, I feel her so deliciously deep, our bodies so attuned, so fucking perfect together it’s scary.
She releases needy moans when I take turns biting her ripe nipples, my palms gliding over the smooth curve in her back, slipping down to grip her pert ass cheeks.
“Fuck, Violet, a condom,” I say with a groan as she rides me like a seasoned cowgirl.
“Oh, damn,” she says, her body drooping like the wind has been knocked out of her sails.
“I’m clean; I’m tested regularly,” I affirm, cupping her face as she gazes down at me.
“I’m on birth co...,” she starts, barely pausing for breath before I claim her mouth once again with a brutal kiss, biting her lip, stretching it out as her hips grind lazily, her fingertips digging into my shoulders.
We take our time, eking out every drop of pleasure, our bodies rolling together like velvet.
Her tight pussy swallows every hard inch of me as she slides up and down, our tongues dancing with a kiss so deep, so achingly sensual, it feels like I’m floating on air.
I can tell she’s close as a tremor tears through her.
She screws up her eyes, her head rocking back, each quickened breath punctuated with a loud moan.
Her back arches, her breasts thrusting out.
I lick and suck her nipples, fingering her clit as she spasms over my cock, grinding out her release.
“Violet,” I growl, forcing her eyes on mine, my possessive streak spiraling. “Who the fuck do you belong to now?”
The way her fingers brush my lips so tenderly and the raw need in her voice as she murmurs, “I’m yours, Chase,” catapults me over the edge.
The orgasm tears through me so violently, I swear my heart stops beating.
My body locks up, pleasure detonating like an earthquake, my grip tightening around her as I spill inside her, panting against her lips.
For a moment, the world narrows to nothing but her—the sweet scent of her sweat-slicked skin, the tremble of her limbs wrapped around me, the way she gasps my name.
After, we stay wrapped in each other’s arms, our kisses turning soft, unhurried, our hands mapping every inch of each other’s skin, as if neither of us wants to let go.
Time slips by, the fire slowly dying to embers.
When the cold finally creeps in, I lift her effortlessly, carrying her to the bedroom, cradling her against my chest as our heads hit the pillow.
Her eyes droop as tiredness takes over. I run my fingers through her hair as her breathing slows, her gentle breaths warm against my chest. Contentment washes over me, and as my mind drifts, a long buried memory resurfaces.
When Nonna was nearing the end of her days, she would always joke, “Chasey, when I’m gone, I’m going to search everywhere for your person and send her your way.”
“How will I even know?” I used to tease her. “Will she have a sticker attached that says sent by Nonna?”
She’d just smile, tapping a wrinkled finger against her temple. “When you meet the right person, Chasey, you’ll know.”
I never bought into that sentimental bullshit. I’ve reached thirty-six, had my choice of women, and never once experienced a cosmic pull toward any of them. Love isn’t fate—it’s timing, chemistry, convenience.
But as I trace a finger over Violet’s silky skin, her honey-gold hair spilled across my pillow, her soft breaths barely audible in the quiet, I sense something stir deep in my chest—a twinge, faint, unfamiliar, but there.
Maybe—just maybe.
Then, just as quickly, I shut it down.
Because I didn’t believe in that kind of thing then, and I sure as hell don’t believe in it now.