Page 61 of Embrace Me Forever

Following her surrender, I lift her up. Her legs voluntarily wrap around my waist as I press her against the wall. My fingers coast to her core, parting her sleek entrance, anticipating how I will fit in her. But her scent and pulses bypass any plans, and I enter, not willing to waste another moment. She writhes—wild like a vixen, so wet and tight around me. The sensation is indescribable. Nowhere else feels like her, not on this Earth or in heaven.

As I continue to thrust, Georgia-May alternates between holding on tightly and loosening her grip. Her rhythm is primal, accommodating my needs.

“Blake, I’m close,” she whispers, her hips moving up and down, her legs clinging to me more staunchly. I’m deep in her. She has the stamina and high pain threshold, I give her that.

I beg her, “Hold on a little longer, sweetheart.” My movements become more fervent, desperate to feel her just that much more.

Her body tenses, clenching my cock while her moans become erratic. I reach my breaking point. I shudder against her soft core as I come. A soundless roar escapes me, but I quickly swallow it, determined to hold on to the bliss. Georgia-May presses herself against me, coaxing another release. Her slickness envelopes my length as it cascades down my upright penetration. Then she collapses, her body completely spent, draping helplessly over my shoulder.

“I’ve got ya,” I whisper, supporting her strong and solid as I carry her to bed, right next to sleeping Coco. I cover her with a blanket, murmuring in her ear, “So, how was the icing on the cake?”

She simply hums, her lips forming a smile. I know she’s enjoying more than just the topping of some dessert.

So this is what it’s like being with a woman for whom connection is not merely a distant dream but a tangible reality, far from the laughable notion it once seemed.

“Good night, Georgia-May.” I whisper-kiss her beautifully flushed cheek.

Aware that she needs her peace with Coco, I pad to my room. Utterly intoxicated, my body slams onto the mattress.

But sleep eludes me. With only a rolled towel for a pillow, all others fortifying Coco’s fortress, I toss and turn. But it’s not the lack of pillows. My mind is still racing, my briefs stretch unusually tight as my cock stays sensitive, clinging to the memory of her wetness.

I rise and make my way back to her room. She has shifted position, now lying on her side, facing Coco. The blanket has slipped off her bare back. I cautiously slide in beside her. And oh, that scent. A fragrance that can only come from a feminine climax.

Spooning her, I wrap my arms around her chest, steering clear of her ticklish sides. Her mouth emits a sigh as my hands reach her breasts, still hard and swollen. She shifts toward the center of the bed, creating ample space for me. I plant a kiss on her beautiful neck, feeling a thin sheen of sweat. From now on, this is how I want to sleep every night.

20

GEORGIA-MAY

We slept in until nearly midday. While Coco continues to slumber inside her own palace of pillows, I find myself sprawled across the bed like a starfish claiming its reef, with Blake turning into part of the scenery. Poor guy! At this rate, I might need a license to be a decent bedfellow.

“Morning,” he mouths. His smile assures me he’s weathered the night well.

With my core still assaulted by pleasurable throbs, I must confess it was the best sex I’ve ever had. Throwing political correctness out the window here, but let’s be real. Size does matter. And coupled with experience? It was like slipping into the afterlife, only to be cradled by the man of your wildest fantasies. I guess it’s the magic of experience that comes with a little gray.

“That modeling scout really knew what she was looking at.” A hint of seduction in my voice as I trace my fingers across his chest. I follow the lines of his abs, still slick with the remnants of last night.

“I’m glad I turned her down,” he replies with a grin, propping himself up.

“Do we have to get up?” I stretch lazily, not ready to leave the cocoon of our sheets.

“No, today is ours. Whatever you want, we’ll do,” he assures me, sitting up and offering his lap as a new haven for me to rest.

“Well,” I hesitate, reluctant to broach the subject yet knowing it’s necessary, “maybe we can browse for Coco’s crib?”

“Sure. Let’s do that then.” His long arm reaches for his phone on the bedside table.

Together, we dive into the world of online shopping, our movements hushed to keep Coco in her peaceful slumber.

“What do you have in mind?” he asks, looking over to me for guidance.

A flutter of anticipation stirs in my stomach. I’d found the perfect crib, bigger and better padded than most, but the price was beyond my reach. Now, with his encouragement, should I mention it?

“Um, there was one designed especially for post-surgery care at home,” I tell him tentatively. “But I can’t remember the brand.”

“Clay and Isabelle swear by Calico’s. Let’s check out their website,” he suggests.

Our search quickly pays off. We find a selection of beautiful cribs, each one perfect and cheerful, without a hint of hospital austerity.

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