Page 109 of Thornhill Road

My center was still constricting and releasing, my legs trembling when he pulled out of me.

I was vaguely aware of the sound of his boots dropping on the floor as I tried to catch my breath. It wasn’t until he tapped the side of my leg, signaling me to lift one foot and then the other, that I stepped out of my jeans.

“Middle of the bed, baby,” he instructed.

I nodded as I crawled to the middle of the bed and rolled onto my back.

Then he was there, his weight between my legs, his hard length heavy against my lower abdomen—slightly swollen with our baby.

Our baby.

I could hardly wait to make him a daddy again.

Leaning on one forearm, he gazed down at me, resting his hand at my left hip before he grazed his thumb over my pelvis. We both knew, without either of us looking down, he’d nailed the spot exactly. He touched me there often, and it still sent a thrill up my spine even months later.

He’d labeled me his ol’ lady in August.

I’d moved in shortly thereafter.

By September, I was branded.

The tattoo was simple and feminine—a black and gray depiction of a mustang leaping through the air, the design following the curve where my thigh met my hip.

It hurt like none other when I got it, but it was beautiful, and totally worth it.

Especially because Mustang loved it.

And I loved it every time he touched me there, almost reverently.

When he moved to slide inside of me, he did so slowly, easing all the way in until I was full. Then he kissed me, deep and wet.

I hitched my knees up to his hips, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as he pulled out patiently before he came back on a hard thrust.

As he made love to me, I luxuriated in the slow burn of passion he stoked at my center.

He took his time, and I knew what was building inside of me was going to be out of this world.

“Mustang,” I breathed, tightening my limbs.

“Hold on, sugar,” he demanded, his hips jerking harder.

“Oh, god,” I moaned, feeling my way up the back of his neck as my fingers sought purchase in his hair.

He nipped at my bottom lip as he pulled out, a low growl crawling up his throat as he pounded in.

“Babe!” I whimpered, on the verge.

“Let go, baby—I’m right behind you.”

I lifted my head, sealing my lips with his, forcing him to swallow my moan as I came long and hard.

After he swallowed my cry, I inhaled his groan as he found his release, riding me until we were both spent.

He lay on top of me for only a moment, then he rolled us both until he was on his back, me plastered down his front. When I lost him from inside of me, a soft mew spilled from my lips, still hypersensitive to his every touch.

My hair fell on either side of my face, but he gathered it into his hands, holding it back so he could see clearly into my eyes. Iwas on the cusp of telling him I should probably go clean myself up before I passed out—but he spoke first.

“You’re mine, baby. Known it for a while now. MK, the club—they all know you belong to me.”

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