Page 344 of The Winslow Brothers

Ty turns back around then, leaning in to place another soft kiss on my lips. He smells like us, and it’s an immediate stimulus.

I’ve just had him, and yet…I can’t wait to have him again. If he has any inkling of agreement, I feel so sorry for my vagina. The change in use is going to be unbelievably jarring.

But the thing is, I don’t know what this means—what Ty wants. Ty’s smile is the kind that you can get lost in for hours on end, but what it isn’t is telling in any shape or form. I have no idea what he’s thinking, and God, my brain is running a mile a minute.

“Ty… What… Where do we… What happens next?”

He leans in and puts one soft kiss to the underside of my jaw. “What comes next, is tomorrow.”

“Right,” I mumble, clueless as fuck as to what that’s supposed to mean. Will tomorrow be like yesterday, or will it be like today? My brain can’t process theoretical poetic bullshit right now.

Still, the last thing I’m going to do is let on that I want to know anything. Ty’s been there and done that, and quite frankly, so have I. The Rachel Rose of today isn’t the kind of woman who begs anyone for anything, and she sure as hell doesn’t wait on a man to decide. She takes what she wants, gives what she can, and lives in the moment.

And right now, I want to fucking kiss him.

I lean in, but before I can finish the motion, he’s doing it for me. His lips brush mine, and the sight of his eyes up close is magic. They seem to go on forever, like vast oceans of iris.

“Oh yeah,” Ty says then, confirming with absolute certainty that this won’t be the last time we do this. “This is going to be fun.”

Wednesday, February 13th

Ty

Rachel mewls as I grab a handful of her playfully curled hair and pull her head back to expose her throat. She’s on her knees on the couch in my office, her hands gripping the back and her ass on display for my enjoyment. She’s completely naked, and the lock on my office door has finally come in handy after I-don’t-even-know-how-many years.

Feeling her now, I can’t believe I managed to make it an entire twenty-four hours without fucking her, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it that long again.

I lean down and nip at her throat, and then I reach around to grab on to her heavy, perfect tits with my free hand. It feels so fucking good for both of us, I groan, and her ass pushes back harder into my crotch. “Put it in, Ty,” she begs in a breathy, sensual voice born of arousal.

I let go of her hair and place a hard, sound smack to her ass that makes her throw her head back.

“What’s the rush, baby? I promise you’ll get my cock.” She shoots a look of disgust over my shoulder, and I laugh. “Into spankings but not into nicknames, huh?”

“Spankings in the right moment are good, but nicknames seem like it’d make it a little too easy to forget my name.”

I laugh again and drive my cock inside at the same time, taking her by surprise if her rolling moan is any indication. It’s so out of the ordinary for me to be bantering during sex, but Rachel has something about her that makes fucking and joking at the same time feel right.

In fact, it feels wildly more intimate than all the fast, dirty fucks of the past. It feels…authentic.

“I couldn’t forget your name if I tried.”

Truth be told,her nameis the only thing that kept us from doing this weeks ago. If she weren’t who she is—and I weren’t acutely aware of it—I never would have been able to hold back this long.

She reaches up behind the couch to steady herself, grabbing on to the front of a bookshelf I’ve filled over the years with rare editions of the classics. Brontë, Shakespeare, Paulo Coelho, Agatha Christie, Tolstoy—they’re all getting a view today I bet they never dreamed of when they wrote these novels.

I start a smooth pace of long, detailed strokes that give my dick time to read the room. Is it firm or pliable? Wet or soaked? Each and every time I fuck, I do it to the best of my ability. But with Rachel, I want it to be an experience she’ll never fucking forget. I want her to think about the feel of my cock when she’s eating, when she’s sleeping, when she’s showering. I want her to think of it so often, in fact, that she comes after me looking for it.

I want to feel the power of her taking control—I want to feel what it’s like when she’s in charge. Weeks of playing our games haveassured me that a Rachel-led encounter will be just as good if not better than the ones where I’m in the lead.

She’s confident. She’s unbelievably sexy. She’s everything I love in a woman, plus a lot of things I never knew could exist.

She challenges me. And right now, I’m going to challenge her not to come within the next minute.

“Close your eyes,” I tell her, grabbing her hair to pull her head back again. Her back is arched in the most glorious way, and I kiss one eyelid and then the other, and then I run my tongue across the crease of her lips. “I want you to feel each and every inch of my stroke, do you understand me, Rachel? Nothing exists outside of this—” I grab her pussy from the front, my fingers wrapping around the base of my cock as it pumps inside. “Do you understand?”

She nods fervently.

“Good. I want you to do that, but I don’t want you to come.”

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