Chapter 29 Boone
I knew sex with Rosie would feel incredible, maybe even life changing.
And that’s probably why I’ve fought like hell to resist her. To put space between us until this case is over and she’s received her promotion. And why I’ve reminded myself at every turn that I should absolutely-under no circumstances act on these desires.
But even though I knew all that. Even though I knew once I had her, I’d never want anyone else. I also knew it was only a matter of time until we cracked.
And no amount of warning could’ve prepared me for this.
The moment I push inside her everything ceases to exist but her. The storm outside, the mechanical sound of her heater turning on and off; nothing but her and I matter.
My eyes lock onto hers, steady, unwavering as I brace myself above her.
There’s no hint of insecurity in her gaze now. There’s no fear. No anxiety. No shyness. She’s spread open beneath me. Her body relaxed, warm and welcoming.
She’s pure fire—seductive, confident and completely irresistible. She’s the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen.
I ease out of her pussy, dragging my cock through her slick heat, up to her clit and then back down, teasing her entrance and brushing over her asshole before returning to her opening.
“Relax for me, baby,” I murmur, my voice rough. “Let me all the way inside.”
Her gaze doesn’t falter. Her confidence is pulling me under, wrapping around me just as tightly as her body does.
“It feels so good.”
“It’s not too much?”
She shakes her head. I feel her muscles soften, her body yielding to me, and I push in again, slowly giving her all of me. Each thrust goes deeper, each withdrawal making me crave her more until, finally, I’m bottoming out, my balls tapping gently against her ass.
I stop there, holding myself still, trying to catch my breath. My eyes drop to where our bodies are joined, her pussy stretched out around me, flush and swollen.
I've never understood the mechanics of how a pussy can take a whole cock, but seeing myself inside of her like this makes me want to beat my fucking chest.
But then, she clenches. Squeezes me in some sort of Kegel that no woman should ever do when a man has been lusting after her patiently for months.
“Dammit,” I hiss through my teeth, watching her body grip me, pulling me deeper. If a pussy could be a trap, hers is the kind I’d willingly walk into and never leave. “This feels too…”
“Amazing,” she finishes my sentence, her voice breathy and confident, and I can only nod. I can think of a few other adjectives, but we’ll start with that one.
Her heels hook around my hips, the balls of her feet digging into my back as she tilts her hips to take me even deeper. Her ass cheeks brush against my sack which only adds another dimension of restraint I need to focus on and then she squeezes me again.
“Rosie what are you doing to me?” I groan.
I pull out slowly, glancing down at my cock, flushed and straining beneath the condom, and squeeze the tip of it, fighting for control. The last thing I want is to lose it before I’ve given her everything.
I notch the head back at her entrance and push inward again, one smooth, deep thrust that jerks her body upward.
“You’re so big,” she gasps. She clenches around me again, and I groan her name, a reverent mantra spilling from my lips.
“Rosie, Rosie, Rosie…” My hips start moving faster, the rhythm picking up as I try to drag this out, to savor the feeling of her. But it’s impossible. She’s addictive. I'll never get my fill. And somewhere deep inside my mind I know that she’s the last woman I’ll ever sleep with.
“My wife,” I murmur, my voice ragged. “Who knew my wife had a pussy this good?”
She moans in response, her back arching off the bed, angling herself so that I can go deeper. Her heels dig into me harder, holding me in place like she’s afraid I’ll pull away.
She doesn’t know I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
I drive into her, every thrust erasing the distance that we’ve kept between us, obliterating the promises that we made to keep our hands to ourselves and behave.
Those promises are nothing but ash now because there’s no going back after this. Not after tasting her, feeling the tight, slick heat of her wrapped around me.
“You’ve ruined me, Rosie,” I confess, my voice raw with truth. “I won’t ever want anyone else.”
Her eyes are still locked on mine, her lips parted, her fingers threading through my hair.
She tugs, sharp and demanding bringing my lips back to hers as we kiss.
There’s something in her kiss that tells me without doubt that we’ve both been wanting this for a long time but were too afraid that the other wouldn’t reciprocate.
I pull back a little and she tugs on my hair harder bringing me back to her mouth. I suck on her tongue, draw her bottom lip into my teeth and bite down gently eliciting another moan. She pulls on my hair again.
“I love how long your hair is,” she murmurs when our mouth’s part for a beat. “Most of the guys keep theirs cut really short.”
Women in the past have complained about my hair, about the way I’ve let it grow out, but Rosie has never said that. In fact, now she’s telling me that she loves it. And I love that.
“I’ll never cut it again,” I growl back.
Because for the first time, I feel utterly accepted down to the smallest piece of me that shouldn’t matter all that much.
“I’ve never been fucked like this before,” she breathes, her voice raw and trembling as I lift her knees into the crook of my arms, twisting her hips just enough to hit her from a new angle.
The second I do, her head falls back, and her eyes slam shut. A moan rips from her lips, wrecked and pleading.
“That’s because you’ve never been fucked by your husband before.”
“Boone,” she whimpers. “Don’t stop.”
“Never,” I promise roughly. I drive into her repeatedly, my body burning with the effort to hold back. I want to fuck her all day, lose myself completely in her, but the tight squeeze of her pussy and the way she’s moaning has me teetering on the edge of coming.
I’m holding on by a thread, and it’s fraying fast.
“Boone,” she gasps, her voice frantic, her nails clawing at my back like she’s trying to anchor herself to me. “I’m… I’m coming.”
Her confession hits like a shot of adrenaline, her tone almost scared, like the intensity of it might swallow her whole. My fingers find her clit, rubbing tight, firm circles, desperate to push her over the edge before I lose myself.
“Just like that,” I rasp, watching her unravel.
And then she does.
Her body clenches, her pussy gripping me so sweetly it’s like she’s dragging my orgasm out of me, stealing every ounce of control I thought I had. I feel it hit me like a wave, my release barreling up my spine and out of me in a powerful explosion.
I bury myself deep, riding the aftershocks until there’s nothing left inside me. When I finally feel myself start to soften the first thing I do is check the condom. A small part of me wonders if it even survived the intensity of what just happened.
It looks like it did, thankfully it’s the only thing that’s unaffected by her magnetism in this room.
She’s curled on her side, panting softly, her skin flushed and glowing. One hand is propped under her chin gently as she gazes up at me.
“I’ll be right back,” I murmur before kissing her temple gently.
Then I pad to the bathroom, tie off the condom and toss it in the trash before grabbing a washcloth from her linen closet. Sliding back onto the bed, I gently clean her up, taking my time, making sure she’s okay.
When I’m done, I toss the washcloth like a puck toward the bathroom, earning a small laugh from her, then slide back under the sheets and pull her close against my chest.
“So, you’re telling me,” she whispers, her voice low and teasing, “that for the past two months we’ve been living together we could’ve been doing all that?”
I snort, tightening my hold on her. “I think we needed to build a foundation of trust first.”
She hums softly, a sound somewhere between agreement and thoughtfulness, and doesn’t say anything else.
And I can’t help but think she’s right. That this is how real relationships work. They start steady, grounded, something solid to brace yourself against before you let it tip into something deeper.
Yes, relationships need attraction. They need want and desire. But when things get hard, and they always do, it’s not desire you cling to. It’s the trust you’ve built. The commitment you’ve already proven.
That’s what we’ve been doing all along, pretending we could be just friends, laying down something real without admitting it. And now we have that solid foundation of trust. Now we have this. A sexual relationship that’s not just built on lust. It’s built on full and complete trust.
And I’m not sure I’ve ever had that with a woman before. That’s why this feels different. That’s why this feels like it’ll last.
So, if this turns into something more, it won’t be reckless or rushed. It’ll grow the way it already has on a foundation we built long before we ever crossed the line.