Page 101 of Between Dusk and Dawn

His eyes hooded with a darkened demand and I knew that my words had worked. I loved watching this man, the head of a freaking underground organization, unravel beneath my fingers. I loved the way my words literally made him fall to his knees to taste every ounce of me.

"Show me what a good girl you are—how ready you are to take all of me," he told me as I spread my legs wide on the bed and he crawled over to me like the whore I was for him.

"Good," he praised, pushing my knees wider apart.

His girthy length slid around my folds, feeling my wetness as I arched toward him, desperate for even a single taste of his thickness.

"Please," I cried. "Please. Please.PLEASE." I screamed the last word no longer needing his cock for pleasure, but because I would explode if I didn’t get something inside of me, quickly. "I am going to have to pull out my saddle, again."

Walsh’s body stilled. "I am not jealous of the saddle. I fucking love watching you ride it. I loved when your eyes rolled back as you leaned over, increasing the strength of it. But I just want to be a jealous lover. I want a taste first."

I propped myself up on my elbows, gazes locked. "Then show me how badly you want it."

He plunged inside of me, and I held my breath as my body took him in. I don’t think I’d ever tire of feeling him bare and stretching.

"I was ruined when I first tasted you, Muse. You absolutely wrecked me." Walsh was thrusting inside of me as my ass hung off the side of my bed, legs tightening around his waist. I was at his mercy.

He continued his assault on me, fucking me raw. "I am going to spill my seed inside of you, Muse."

He cried eventually and my ears shot up. The symphony of pleasurable noises halting momentarily. "Do it."

A deep laugh was the only sound I heard as the bed continued to squeak letting him fuck me raw. The one thing that Walsh "accidentally" never brought to his house in Dansport was my birth control, so even though I had just gone to the doctor to get a prescription, I found out other news that may have halted the need for that.

"My fucking beautiful wife." More. Thrusting.

"Be quiet. Everyone can hear you downstairs." His hands reached up, pinching my nipples as I squealed in surprise.

"This room is soundproof." There was the Walsh I knew. The one always thinking ahead, always had the answer.

"Of course it is," I groaned just as I slipped into that peaceful abyss. The one where my world exploded, stars bursting, and everything ceased to exist except for Walsh and myself.

"I love you," he said one last time as he impaled me with his thick, girthy dick.

I exploded around him, my pussy lips clenching as I slipped into that star-drenched heaven. My body collapsed on the bed, lungs seizing as I tried to catch my breath.

He slid next to me, positioning me so I was laying on the pillow, and I entangled my arms and legs between his.

"I missed this," I murmured. His mouth came down onto my nose, peppering me with little kisses.

"You just had me earlier, you insatiable wife."

"Thank you," I whispered. "I never imagined myself as ever having a home."

"Now you have two." He pressed his lips to mine.

"No." I stopped him, pulling away slightly so I could see his eyes. "I meant you. You are my home, Walsh."

A slight smile tugged at his lips. "You’ve always been mine, Muse."

We laid there, the sounds of the party partially muted. "We should go back down there. They're here for us."

"Eh," Walsh waved his hand. "They can stand to be away from us for a few more minutes. Let me lay here."

I gazed up at the ceiling, contemplating the journey my life had taken in the past few years. Every shared moment between dusk and dawn had brought us to this point.

Closing my eyes, memories flooded in—the pain, the hurt, the collateral damage my trauma had caused, and the life I'd been compelled to lead due to my past. Today, however, felt different because Walsh was by my side. Even amidstlife's messiness and the lingering fragments of my history, we embraced our imperfections. Perfection was never our expectation for each other.

Walsh wasn't a substitute for the elements missing from my childhood. Although everything I'd endured, everything that had been taken away, felt more bearable, as if he had smoothed out the rough edges, the puzzle of my life remained a work in progress.

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