Page 89 of Desperate Needs

Certi-fucking-fiable.

Yes, I crossed some pretty big fucking lines when it came to this woman. But there was no way I was leaving until we clarified a few things.

“This is a bad idea. Leave. Please leave.”

Her words rang in my head, echoing with an intensity that seemed to grow louder the more I tried to forget I ever heard them.

Each syllable, sharp and cutting, burrowed deeper into my mind, refusing to be silenced.

They filled me with fury. It started in my chest and spread, igniting every nerve in my body.

It wasn’t just anger—it was a raw, primal surge, like a wildfire burning through every calm thought, every ounce of restraint.

This couldn’t be it for us. I refused to let it be over.

I tried to focus, to breathe through it, but the more I replayed her words, the more each repetition stoked the flames.

How could she say that?

Did she mean it?

Did she hate me now?

I didn’t give a fuck. I would make her love me. No, she never said it, but I knew her. I knew my sweet Darlin’ and there was no way she could give me control of her sweet, ripe body without love.

Believing that was the only thing that kept me grounded these past few days without her.

“Nuh uh, Darlin’. I’m not leaving you,” I told her, promising to never let her forget it.

“You did that when you used me,” she said, her voice breaking.

“No. Not that. Not ever. You. Belong. To. Me.”

“I don’t. Stop it,” she said, shaking her head, but I couldn’t take being away from her anymore.

Need pulsed through me like a living thing. Like a demon that had grown inside of me and had full possession of my actions.

I closed the distance between us, grabbing her neck and dragging her to me. Heat seeped into my body, and I reveled in it, feeling alive for the first time in days.

“Never, Little Girl. I will never stop. I’ll never give up on us,” I promised and crushed her lips beneath my searching, starving ones.

Warm vanilla and bright oranges burst across my senses, and I moaned as I swallowed her own whimpers and cries.

I expected her to hit me or push me, but I was right when I said she was mine. This only proved it.

She was made for me.

Clementine didn’t fight. She clung to my shoulder, opening for me like a rose in bloom.

So sweet. So fucking soft.

I groaned and flexed my hips against her soft, supple belly. Her big tits squished against my chest and I fucking trembled at the contact.

My cock leaked precum all over my boxers, and I drove my tongue deeper inside her hot little mouth, stamping myself there.

My hands had minds of their own, feeling her up over her clothes. I squeezed her plump ass. Pulled her top down, freeing her big tits with a bounce that made me ache.

“Jesus, Darlin’. Look at those tits. So fucking perfect,” I growled and plucked on the tight beads of her nipples.

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