Page 58 of Strawberry Moon

“Ford. Ford!”

I pulled back, his dick and my mouth a sloppy mess of spit and tears and precome. I wanted to drink him down, but if he wanted me to stop, well, that was no question. We were stopping.

He looked up at me, his lips bright from biting them.

“Fuck me,” he rasped. “Fuck me like you said.”

One swipe of my hand was all it took to make sure he was ready. He was slick, hot, and pulsing against my fingers. And I needed to be inside him like I needed air.

I steadied my cock with one hand, sat up on my knees, and sank into him. A groan rumbled up from my chest at the tight squeeze of his ass around my throbbing dick.

Archer threw back his head, grabbing his knees and spreading wide for me as I thrust into him in one smooth move. To the hilt. My balls hit his ass and my cock speared so deep inside him I could feel his whole body shake.

When I toppled forward, I caught myself with hands on either side of his head. Then, I started to move.

“I’m yours, Archer Sterling. So long as you want me.” I punctuated the words with deep thrusts, swirling my hips until my dick painted every inch inside. “And you’re mine till you tell me you’re not. I want you. I want this. Us.”

Archer was nodding fast, past words. Even his hands went slack on his legs as I fucked him.

He let them fall open and held onto my back as I rocked us toward oblivion.

“I want you to come for me, sweetheart.” I leaned down for a kiss. “Want to feel your pleasure while I’m still inside you.”

I sneaked my hand down between us, gripping his cock. It was still wet with saliva, red and flushed and full and so fucking ready. All it took was a stroke, maybe two, and he cried out.

His body convulsed under me, around me, and his cock went rigid right before he came. I felt every move in the flex of veins and muscle, and while he whined and whimpered, I kissed his neck and pounded deep.

My vision whited out, and pleasure ran through me like an electric current. I moaned, shoving in one last time as my dick pumped and filled him with every ounce of pleasure I had.

By the time I caught my breath, my arms were shaking. But the soft, drowsy smile Archer sent me was worth any strain.

It hit me then, as I looked down at him. My Archer had a good heart—best in the whole world. Gently, I pressed my palm on top of it and felt it thunder under my touch.

“I love you,” I whispered.

For a second, he just stared, the whites clear all around his eyes. But when he pulled me down and kissed me hard, I didn’t doubt for one second that he loved me right back.

40

Archer

Love? Me?

That seemed downright silly. No one had loved me since my parents had died, and in the darkest parts of my mind, I’d always wondered about even them. They left me behind, after all.

Instead of answering, I clung to Ford as though I’d die without his warm, steady presence. Was that what love was? Or was it the steadiness of those wolf instincts when we were wrapped up in his sheets together, our heart beats in sync and so, so calm?

Worst, really, was the fact that I didn’t know, and I didn’t know how I would ever figure it out.

Still, the glowing warmth in my chest when we dressed in our dirty suits from the day before and he took me downstairs into the kitchen for breakfast—no hesitation to take me with him, no shame at my presence in front of his in-laws—it was the lightest I’d felt in years.

Of course, we’d barely taken our seats at the table, Barbara Hill setting a plate of cinnamon-apple pancakes in front of me, when my phone rang. Andy.

I hit the button to decline, but it started ringing again a second later.

Henrik raised a brow. “Sounds like someone really wants to talk to you. Maybe you’d best answer.”

I sighed and ducked my head in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry. I’ll just—”

---