19. Tony #2
"Then show me," she said.
I pulled her shirt off. Her bra followed. I cupped her breasts and ran my thumbs over her nipples until they hardened. She arched into me with a soft moan.
My hand slid down inside her pants. She was soaked. I rubbed her clit in firm circles. Her hips bucked against my fingers.
"Fuck, Tony," she breathed. "I need your cock so bad. Right now. Please."
I shoved my jeans down. My cock sprang free, hard and heavy. She wrapped her hand around me and stroked once, her grip tight and perfect.
"Look how fucking wet you are for me," I growled. "This tight little pussy is dripping down my fingers. All mine."
I pushed her pants and underwear down her legs. Then I lined up and thrust inside her in one smooth stroke.
She felt perfect. Tight and hot and dripping around my cock. I groaned as I buried myself deep.
I fucked her against the wall with deep, steady thrusts. She moaned my name, the sound broken and raw.
"Harder, Tony. Fuck me harder," she gasped. "I want to feel every inch of that thick cock stretching me open."
I slowed down for a moment. She noticed right away.
"Hey." Her hand touched the side of my face. "Stay with me."
My hands shook. The old wounds tried to pull me back. She pressed her forehead to mine and breathed with me until the tremor stopped.
"I'm here," she said. "I'm right here."
The old pain got quieter under her touch. I kissed her again, slower this time. Her fingers threaded through my hair.
The need came back stronger. Certain now. I carried her back to the counter and set her on the edge. I drove into her again, harder, steady.
Her head dropped back. Her pussy clenched around my cock.
"That's it, baby. Come on my cock," I rasped. "Squeeze me tight. Let me feel how good I make this pussy feel. Come for me right now."
She came with a sharp cry, her body shaking against me, her nails digging into my shoulders as her pussy pulsed and fluttered around my cock.
I followed her over the edge. I came deep inside her with a groan, everything else gone for those few seconds. I kept thrusting through it, filling her up until I had nothing left.
I pulled out slowly, my cock still hard. I spun her around and bent her over the counter. Her ass looked perfect pushed out for me. I gripped her hips and slid back inside her in one deep thrust.
"Fuck yes," I growled. "Take my cock just like that. This pussy was made for me."
I fucked her from behind, harder now, the sound of our bodies slapping together filling the quiet kitchen. She pushed back against me, meeting every thrust.
" Tony... oh fuck, right there," she moaned. "Don't stop. I'm gonna come again."
I reached around and rubbed her clit while I drove into her. "Come again for me, baby. Milk my cock with that tight pussy."
She shattered a second time, her legs trembling, her voice breaking on my name. I followed right after, burying myself deep as I came inside her once more.
We stood in the kitchen afterward both breathing hard the counter edge digging into my palms where I gripped it behind her.
Her forehead rested on my collarbone. My chin sat on top of her head. Her hair smelled like coffee and vanilla, maybe, and the spring air from the cracked car window.
"That was intense," she said.
"Yeah."
She pulled back enough to look at me. Color burned high on her cheeks and her reading glasses had landed somewhere behind her. She looked wrecked in the best possible way.
"For the record," she said. "I'm glad you said it."
"Said what?"
"'She's with me.'" She bit her lower lip. Then stopped herself. "I'm glad the whole town knows."
Something loosened in my chest. A knot I hadn't known was there.
"Good," I said.
She pressed up on her toes and kissed the corner of my mouth. Quick. She pulled back before I could catch her.
"I need to go check on the cottage." She found her glasses and slid them on. "And you need to sleep."
"I don't sleep."
"You should start." She squeezed my hand. Her fingers were still warm. "Goodnight, Tony."
She walked to the kitchen door. Stopped. Turned back.
"You're a lot, you know that?"
"I've been told."
She shook her head. That almost-smile again. Then she was gone, the kitchen door closing behind her with a soft click.
I stayed in the kitchen for a long time. The stove light hummed. The dal sat untouched.
The ridge outside was a dark shape beneath a darker sky. Somewhere in that darkness, the woman I had just claimed was locking her cottage door.
A woman I was falling for so hard it had rewritten every rule I'd set for myself.
I walked to the studio. The canvas I'd started three days ago waited on the easel. Mia and Avery on the porch, the light behind them, the mountain framed in the door.
The colors on the canvas were a question I couldn't answer anymore. Were the golds warm enough? Was her hair dark enough for the background?
I didn't know. I might never know.
But the composition was there. The love was there. The way Avery leaned into Mia like Mia was the center of gravity.
I picked up a brush. Loaded it with what I was fairly certain was burnt sienna. And I kept painting.
Because the colors were leaving. And she was staying. And those two truths were going to collide one day in a way I couldn't predict.
But not tonight. Tonight, she was with me.
And that was enough.