Page 115 of All of Me

“Yes!” Her voice cracks on the word, her hips rising to take more of me, but I hold her down with firm hands, my control absolute.

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” I murmur, pulling back and thrusting shallowly, just enough to keep her on edge. “You’re going to take every inch, but you’ll do it at my pace.”

She moans in frustration, her nails digging into my forearms, but I can see the surrender in her eyes. Her body relaxes under my touch. Slowly, torturously, I push deeper, inch by inch, until I’m fully buried inside her. The sound she makes, between a gasp and a moan, is pure heaven.

“You’re so fucking perfect like this,” I whisper, leaning down to press my lips to her neck, kissing and nibbling along her pulse. Her hands slide up my back, holding me closer as her hips start to move against mine.

“More,” she breathes, her voice a soft, needy plea. “I need more.”

I start to move, pulling out almost entirely before thrusting back in with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Her walls tighten around me with every stroke, and I can feel her body reacting, her breathing hitching as I angle my hips to hit the spot that makes her cry out.

“That’s it,” I murmur against her skin, my hand slipping between us to find her clit. I circle it with light, teasing pressure, and her entire body shudders. “Feel how good you are for me? So perfect. So ready.”

She’s a mess beneath me, her moans turning into incoherent whimpers as I keep up the slow, steady pace, my fingers matching the rhythm of my hips. I take my time, savoring every gasp, every tremor, every way her body responds to mine.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” I say, leaning back to watch her. Her head is thrown back, her hair fanned out around her, her lips parted as she fights to catch her breath. “So fucking beautiful.”

Her hands fly to my shoulders, her nails biting into my skin as her legs wrap tightly around my waist, pulling me closer. “I’m—I’m so close,” she gasps, her voice breaking.

“Good girl,” I growl, quickening my thrusts, enough to push her over the edge. “Come for me, Kitty. Let me feel you.”

Her release hits her like a storm, her body arching off the bed, her walls clenching around me so tightly it’s almost too much. Her cries fill the room, and I keep moving, drawing it out, refusing to let her come down too soon.

“That’s it,” I murmur, my voice rough with need as I watch her fall apart beneath me. “You’re so perfect. Where do you want my cum?”

“Inside me,” she pants.

She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I’m dying to see her belly round with my baby. I don’t last much longer after that. Her body pulls me under, dragging me into my own release as I thrust deep, spilling into her with a guttural moan. I press my forehead to hers, our breathing ragged and uneven as the waves of pleasure wash over us.

For a long moment, neither of us moves. I stay inside her, our bodies pressed together, her soft breaths brushing against my neck.

“Still think there’s such a thing as feeling too good?” I murmur, brushing her damp hair back from her face, my lips grazing hers.

She laughs softly, my favorite sound. “If there is, I hope you keep testing the limits.”

“Don’t worry, wife,” I whisper, kissing the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, and finally her forehead. “I’m just getting started.”

forty-one

LET ME LOVE YOU - NE-YO

CALLIE - JULY 27, 2014

The sunlight streaming through the window warms my skin, pulling me gently from sleep. My body feels deliciously sore, every inch of me still humming from last night. The memories come flooding back, Owen’s hands on me, his mouth everywhere, the way he whispered my name.

I stretch lazily, the sheets shifting over my bare skin, and turn to look at him. He’s still asleep, his face relaxed, his lips parted slightly as he breathes deeply. His hair is a tousled mess, his stubble catching the golden light pouring into the room. He looks so peaceful, so utterly perfect, that my chest tightens with emotion.

My husband.

The thought makes my heart swell, the reality of it settling into my bones. This man—the one who held me so tenderly yet utterly consumed me last night—is mine. I’ll never tire of that.

My fingers twitch with the urge to reach out and touch him. I give in, letting my hand drift over the hard lines of his chest, the warmth of his skin under my palm sending a spark of anticipation through me. He doesn’t stir, but his lips twitch into the smallest hint of a smile, like he knows I’m watching him.

Last night wasn’t just intense—it was transcendent. It wasn’t just the way he touched me or how he made me feel like I was the only person in the world. It was the way he looked at me—like I was his everything. Like he would do anything to make me happy.

My hand continues its slow exploration, gliding over the ridges of his abdomen, tracing the line of his hip. I can feel the heat building in me again, the ache that never quite went away. He stirs slightly, a soft groan escaping his lips as my fingers drift lower, brushing over the the sheet that’s barely covering him.

“You’re playing with fire, Kitty,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep, his eyes still closed.

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