Page 114 of Make Me Want it Too

He stills, his head just inside the ring of muscle. “Are you good, love?”

“Yes. More.”

Without hesitation, he drives forward, stretching me and filling me until his hips hit my backside. The sensation is overwhelming.

He pulls out slowly, then eases back in. Every movement is heightened as I start to sweat and squirm. It’s too much. And yet, it’s perfect.

Knowing just what I need, he licks his thumb then presses it to my protruding clit. My heartbeat pulses against his thumb as he applies the perfect pressure, soothing the ache. He strokes it as he starts to fuck my ass in earnest.

“There you go. Look how perfect your ass looks taking my cock, Mace.”

“Wood. Oh my god. Oh my—oh fuck.”

He circles my clit faster, pinching it between two fingers and tugging on it enough to balance out the slight sting every time he drives into my ass.

The pressure is mounting again, coiling low, heating my core and making it hard to breathe.

“Are you going to come again, my love?” Wood asks, sweating, straining, panting.

“Yes.”

“Fuck, you’re so tight. I’m going to come as soon as you do.”

And then I’m bearing down on his cock as the pleasure surges through my veins, stars exploding in my vision as everything else goes black.

I’m aware of my struggling breaths as the feeling ebbs, my lips and fingertips tingling.

Wood is still inside me, muscles tensed, face contorted, eyes shut tight, grunting and shaking as his own climax engulfs him.

I touch his face and he opens his eyes, mouth slack, sweat at his temples. We look into each other’s eyes as he comes down. As he comes back to me.

He leans down and kisses me gently as he slides out of me.

“Are you okay?” He wipes a tear from the corner of my eye.

“Yes. I’m more than okay.” I’m perfect. The happiest I’ve ever been.

He goes quickly to the bathroom, returning sans condom and with a wet washcloth. He scoops me into his arms and into the center of the bed where he presses the warm cloth between my legs and massages away some of the tenderness.

Hand flush to my stomach, he pulls me closer back against him and kisses my neck and behind my ear. “I’m never going to get tired of this,” he says. “I love you.”

CHAPTER 24

WOOD

FOUR MONTHS LATER

The morning sun has finally crested over the city skyline. Our Christmas tree in front of the windows is set ablaze, the light bouncing off ornaments and glowing through the branches.

I hum-slash-sing “Last Christmas” by Wham! to myself while I roll out the cinnamon roll dough on the floured counter. My grandma’s old wooden rolling pin squeaks every third revolution. I had to get up at four to start the dough—I should have started it last night, but Macy and I got…distracted.

And cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning are tradition.

The rolls are buttered and sugared and cinnamoned—cinnamoned??—and rolled and sliced and in the oven to bake, so I start the bacon.

My sizzling bacon brings all the boys to the yard.

Macy comes out first, yawning, hair in a messy bun, wearing her giant Garfield T-shirt and a pair of my sweats.

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