Page 62 of Remember Me

He followed, step for step, until we reached the door to our bedroom. Then he stayed me with a hand to my hip and another to the hair at my neck. He swept it to the side, baring my nape, and laid his mouth to my skin there, eliciting a shiver in response.

“Is this what you want, Birdie?” He murmured the question into the delicate flesh beneath my ear. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. “Why?” He turned me in his arms and lifted me, pressing small kisses to my throat and chest as I wrapped my legs around his waist. “Why now?”

I knew what he wanted. Tilting my head back to grant him better access, I gave him the words. “Because I love you. I remember our first time, and I love you.”

His forehead fell against my chest and I felt his sharp inhale. The exhalation that followed shuddered out, and he carried me swiftly down the hall and to our bed. “Thank God,” he muttered, the words thick with emotion.

There were no further words. His hands cupped my face and his mouth pressed into mine, his tongue licking against the seam of my lips. I opened willingly, my hands sliding into his hair, and our tongues danced together until my head spun with sensation. I could smell him, the salty, slightly sweaty musk from his earlier exertion.It’s so good.

He broke the kiss to trail his nose over my cheek and jaw and down the line of my throat, licking and nipping gently as he went. Breath released in a sigh, in a gasp as his hands moved, handling my curves with familiarity and confidence, landing finally on the cheeks of my ass. He squeezed, fingers digging into my flesh through the cotton shorts I’m wearing. And then he was breaking contact, tracing the skin of my stomach with calloused fingers before he took the waistband of my shorts and panties and slid them over my hips and down my legs. I helped, taking the hem of my shirt and pulling it up and over my head until I was bare to the heat in his gaze.

His eyes met mine. “Birdie…”

I drew my hand over my stomach and up to my breast. “Your turn.”

He rose to shuck his pants and boxers. He stood beside the bed, his cock rising tall and proud between us. I swallowed at his size, watching as he stroked himself with a few languid pumps of his fist. I knew he was big. I remembered our first time now, the awareness that his size was proportionate all over, and the old wives’ tales about feet and hands and noses were alarmingly accurate. I remembered, but it didn’t stop the knee-jerkholy shitwidening of my eyes.

He climbed back on the bed, placing a knee beside my hip and lowering himself to rest atop me. He was careful to keep from relaxing his full weight into me, but I could feel his length against my wet and aching center. I squirmed against him, gripping his shoulders with my hands and bringing my knees up to feel him more solidly against me. He moved slowly against me, sliding against my folds with a delicious friction.

“God, I’ve missed you.” His hands delved into my hair, stroking against it in a way that said it was one of his favorite things.

My body was saying it missed him, too, even if in many ways this felt like the first time. I kissed his jaw, tense with his rigid self-control. “I need you,” I murmured, and found his mouth with mine for a long, deep kiss.

He accommodated me, lining the broad, blunt head of his cock up with my entrance and pushing slowly into me until he was seated completely in me. A hiss escaped him, and he held perfectly still, the tendons in his neck standing out and nostrils flaring with the effort. I closed my eyes and just felt him, a thick, heavy weight filling me. Completing me.

“You okay?” He gave a tentative roll of his hips and light erupted along my nerve endings, my inner muscles clamping down on him.

“So okay,” I answered. “Don’t you dare stop.”

A tiny grin curled his lip, and he withdrew almost completely before fucking back into me with a surety that was missing before. In and out he stroked, deeper and harder with each roll of his hips. We were climbing together. I could feel it in the coil of sensation tightening in the low part of my belly, hear it in his guttural growl. One of his hands covered my breast, his thumb brushing against the nipple. The other held my hip high and open to him, even as my leg wound around him.

He whispered to me, sweet and dirty.You’re so pretty, baby. You like me fucking you? Say my name.

“Hayes…” The word was a low keen, carried on a taut curl of feeling that was drawing tighter, a sweet agony I bit my lip against. “I’m so close.”

He reached between us to touch me and just that easy, I came. Hard. Fast. My body drew up like the string of a bow and then snapped, releasing in wave on wave of pleasure that vibrated through me and left me limp and hypersensitive, shuddering as he found his own release moments later.

And then we were just two bodies, covered in sweat and each other, gripping each other tightly through the aftershocks of reunion.

¦Hayes

She didn’t leave the bed this time.

She lay, instead, on her side, her back curled against my chest. She wasn’t asleep. Her lips were curved in contentment, her fingers tracing my forearm and hand as it rested on her belly. There was a gentle swell now, evidence of the child sheltered there.

My child.

It was still hard to fathom. This time next year, I’d be helping Birdie assemble toys for this munchkin. Would he, or she, be sitting up? Walking? I laughed at myself. Nah. They didn’t walk until they were around two. My forehead wrinkled. At least, that’s what I thought.

“Penny for ‘em.” Her voice was husky.

“When do babies start to walk?”

She half-turned to look at me incredulously. “That’s what you were thinking about?”

I stuck my tongue out at her. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Not a thing.” She turned until she was on her back. “I love you, Big.”

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