Page 76 of Say You're Mine

This is our story, June and I. Ours to write, ours to claim, ours to fight for with every beat of our wild, defiant hearts.

We stumble through the door of June's safe house, a tangle of desperate limbs and seeking mouths. The drive back was interminable, the air between us electric with need, with the aching desire to reaffirm life in the most primal way we know.

June kicks the door shut behind us, never breaking the seal of his lips on mine. His hands are everywhere, skimming over my curves, mapping the changes wrought by time and trauma and the tiny life growing beneath my heart.

"Need you," he pants against my mouth, the words ragged and raw. "Need to feel you, Cara. Need to know you're real."

I understand the desperation, the bone-deep craving for connection. After everything we've been through, every moment of separation and fear and shattering uncertainty, I need this too. Need him, in every way it's possible to need another person.

We leave a trail of clothing on the way to the bedroom, a breadcrumb path of denim and lace. June's hands shake as he undresses me, his eyes dark and reverent as each inch of skin is revealed.

He pauses when he reaches my belly, his palm coming to rest on the gentle swell. There's wonder in his gaze, mingled with disbelief and a fierce, protective love that steals my breath.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, sinking to his knees before me. "So fucking perfect, Cara. I can't believe you're mine."

Tears prick my eyes, my heart swelling to bursting in my chest. "I've always been yours, June. From the first moment I saw you, I think. Every breath, every beat of my heart... it's all for you."

He presses a kiss to my belly, his lips lingering on the taut, sensitive skin. When he looks up at me, there's a fire in his eyes that sets my blood to molten.

"And every part of me is yours," he vows, his voice rough with emotion. "My body, my heart, my soul... it all belongs to you, Cara Mia. You're my whole world."

I thread my fingers through his hair, marveling at the silk of it, the way it curls around my digits like spilled ink. "Show me," I breathe, a plea and a prayer. "Make me feel it, June. I need to feel you."

He jumps to his feet, claiming my lips in a kiss that robs me of air and reason alike. This is no gentle exploration, but a claiming, a branding, a unleashing of the desperation we've held at bay for far too long.

We tumble onto the bed, a collision of limbs and sighs and racing pulses. June's hands skim over me like I'm something rare and precious, an alabaster idol to be worshipped with reverent touch.

"Look at you," he breathes, trailing fingers over the swell of my breasts, the taut drum of my belly. "Like a fucking goddess, Cara. So fertile, so lush. Say you're all mine."

The words light a fire in my veins, a primal hunger that demands satisfaction. I arch into his touch, my body a bowstring pulled taut. "Yours," I affirm, my voice a needy rasp. "Only ever yours, June."

He lowers his head to my breast, drawing the aching peak into the wet silk of his mouth. Pleasure rockets through me, electric and devastating. My hands find his shoulders, nails biting into corded muscle as he laves me with teeth and tongue.

Every pull of his lips is echoed by a throb deep in my core, a hot, heavy pulse of need. I'm slick and wanting, my body weeping for his possession. But he takes his time, lavishing attention on my breasts, my belly, the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.

"June, please," I pant, my hips lifting in search of friction, of fulfillment. "I need you inside me. Need to feel you filling me up."

He answers with a growl, primal and possessive. Then he's there, notched at my entrance, the thick head of his cock teasing my swollen flesh. Our eyes lock, a moment suspended in amber, brimming with love and longing and the heady thrill of reunion.

And then he's plunging forward, one smooth thrust seating him to the hilt in my welcoming body. We both cry out at the exquisite connection, the feeling of completion, of two lost souls crashing back together.

"Fuck, Cara," June grinds out, his face buried in the crook of my neck. "You're so tight. So perfect. Like a glove – made just for me."

I wrap my legs around his hips, drawing him deeper, that aching hollow place inside me finally filled to bursting. "I was," I gasp, tilting my pelvis to take him deeper still. "Made for you, June. Only ever for you."

He sets a pace that's just this side of brutal, each snap of his hips driving the air from my lungs. But it's perfect, it's everything, it's the rawest expression of the fever that rages between us, the need to crawl inside each other's skin and take up permanent residence.

June's lips chart a path of fire over my throat, my jaw, the shell of my ear. Broken praises spill from his lips, a litany of love and lust that makes my toes curl. "My perfect girl," he rasps, his voice like gravel over silk. "My ride or die. My fucking forever."

The words layer over the physical sensation, an erotic benediction that has me teetering on the knife's edge of ecstasy. He knows just how to touch me, how to angle his thrusts to hit that spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. He's playing my body like an instrument he's spent a lifetime mastering, wringing out pleasure that borders on pain in its intensity.

And all the while, he's whispering to me, telling me how good I feel, how much he's missed me, how he'll never let me go again. It's the words as much as the touch that push me higher, tighter, winding me up like a spring about to snap.

"Gonna fill you up," he promises darkly, one hand drifting down to where we're joined. "Gonna pump you so full of my cum, baby. Put another baby in this sweet belly."

It's too much, too good, the filthy words and the relentless pressure of his fingers on my clit combining to shatter me into a million glittering pieces. I come with a hoarse cry, my body clenching down on him like a vise.

June follows me over the edge, my name a broken prayer on his lips as he spills himself inside me. I can feel the hot pulses of his release, painting my inner walls, branding me from the inside out.

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