Page 151 of Never Let You Go

Yet, my panic takes over, and I get off the bed, flinging myself to him as he makes his way back to me.

“Hey,” he says, his lips curling up in the most adorable, surprised smile.

Clasping my hands at his nape, I pull him in front of the crackling fire. “I need you to take me,” I murmur as our lips collide.

His brow furrows, and his arms tighten around me. He doesn’t need more explanation. He grabs a condom and loses no time rolling it on. Then our mouths mold to one another, and his tongue takes control of my senses.

With one hand cupping my ass, he hoists me onto his hips, then he lowers me slowly to the carpet.

His arm cushions my back from the hard floor, and my body melts into his as he enters me in one powerful move. Not gentle, not slow.

Claiming.

Yes.

How does he know exactly what I need in this moment?

My eyes lock with his, my begging silent. Fuck me. Fuck the pain out of me.

And he does.

He fills me. His thrusts pin me hard under him, the veins on his pecs bulge and turn blue, our sweaty foreheads clash as our bodies become one.

Then he dips his head and sucks on my nipple, and my orgasm builds, this time coming from somewhere deep. I moan, a raw, deep sound I don’t recognize myself, but I don’t come, yet.

Letting go of my breasts, he pins my hands behind my head and sucks my neck.

Our rhythm picks up.

His brow is furrowed and his breathing hard. Low grunts rise from deep in his belly as he plows deeper and stronger inside me.

With each stroke, my lower back scrapes against the carpet. “Fuck me harder,” I beg, relishing the burn marks forming on my skin from his rough lovemaking. From the way he wants me. Possesses me. I bring his head to my neck. “Suck me.” Then I push his head to my breasts. “Please.” I want him anywhere he’ll kiss and bite and suck. I need to feel more, to get out of my head.

And Christopher gets it.

He fucks the shadows out of my soul, making me scream and writhe and shake from my orgasm for what seems like long minutes.

“Fuck me,” I say again when I come down from it, limbs unresponsive, vision blurred, and he hasn’t come yet.

And he does. Oh how he does.

He fucks me so hard that the vein on his forehead is as thick and blue as the ones on his biceps. So hard he throws his head back when he comes with a loud growl, skin slick with fresh sweat glowing in the dancing light of the fire. So hard his eyes roll back, and he nearly crushes me when he drops his body to mine. Oh but I want that crush. The carpet scraping my back. His heartbeat resonating in my whole body. Our skins clinging and slipping. His shaking breath in the crook of my neck.

Later, he carries me to the bed, lays me on the sheet like precious cargo, spoons against me, and pulls the bed covers above our tangled bodies, his hand gently stroking my bare shoulder.

Rain starts pattering against the window, and it’s the warmest, softest sound.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wakes me up. I open my eyes to the sight of Christopher wearing just a pair of low-hanging sweatpants, his naked abs and pecs flexing behind a breakfast tray laden with apple cider muffins, cinnamon buns, orange juice, and coffee.

“Oh, wow,” are the first words I can articulate. I stretch my arms above my head and without thinking, I add, “Will you marry me?”

He nearly drops the tray.

Well, that settles it. “Just kidding,” I huff.

He smirks and hands me a cup of coffee, then tears apart small pieces of cinnamon bun that he hand-feeds me.

I close my eyes in delight. Not for the food.

---