Page 67 of Every Promise Broken

Swallowing harshly, I pause for a moment. “I’ve never been with anybody either,” I admit.

He blinks at me. “At all?”

“Whit, I haven’t even looked at another person in that way since that night we danced in the barn.”

Mouth opening, then closing just as quickly, his throat flexes as he swallows. “Wh-what?”

“You heard me,” I growl. “I have always been yours, and that has never changed. There is nobody for me on this earth except for you.”

He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. I can feel it; feel everything unsaid between us.

A smirk tugs on my lips as I pull out to the tip, then sink home again. Whit cries out, and I feel his tight hole constrict around my cock. Something carnal and lecherous crashes into me, and if I thought I needed Whit before, it has nothing on the need flooding my system now.

“You like my cock in your tight little cunt?” Tossing one of his legs over my shoulder, I lean down, bringing a hand beside his head. “Like feeling me fuck you, kitten?”

“Yes!” Whit cries out, a string of long, low moans. “Yes, fuck, yes!”

“That’s right, baby. Let me hear you scream for me. Let me hear how good I give it to you. How nobody has ever given it to you except me.”

My hips slap against his ass, my thrusts hard and quick as I pound into him. His gaze is locked on mine as I fuck him, his full pink lips parted in pleasure, cheeks flushed, and his forehead slick with sweat. I can’t think straight; being inside of him feels good. Too fucking good. I grab ahold of the headboard, fucking him harder, the new position dragging along his sweet spot, making him moan louder.

He throws his head back as his muscles tighten. His hands fisting the sheets beneath us as he cries out. “Oh, fuck! D-don’t stop, don’t stop. Oh, god!”

And that’s when I feel it—a hot, sticky mess splashing my stomach. He came untouched. Fuck, that’s hot.

“Oh, fuck, you’re going to make me come,” I groan, his release acting like a detonator for my own as I feel my balls tighten up and my body tingles. I dip my head down, sealing my mouth to Whit’s just as it hits me. My tongue finds his right as my cock throbs, spilling inside his tight, hot hole. His asssqueezes and milks every last drop from me until I can barely breathe.

Whit’s hand comes up, cupping my cheek, the touch so damn tender as he kisses me again, even softer than before.

After a few moments, I roll off Whit and walk into the bathroom, coming back out a moment later with a warm washcloth to clean Whit up with. As soon as I toss it in the hamper and climb back into bed, he immediately finds his place in my arms. Neither of us says a word, but we don’t have to. We’re both feeling it, I know it.

This couldn’t have been any more perfect, and getting to fall asleep with him tucked under my chin is the icing on top of the cake.

26

Whit Bowman

After having my morning cup of coffee, I spot Conrad in the en-suite, standing in front of the mirror. My gaze dips down, taking in the sink full of water and the straight razor and shaving cream next to it.

“Leaving for work?”

My eyes lift, meeting Conrad’s chestnut browns in the mirror before I cross over to the doorway. “Yeah, I have to leave in about fifteen minutes. Cleaning up your beard?”

Huffing out a breath, he shrugs. “Trying to. I sliced my index finger open this morning.” He holds up his bandage-wrapped finger. “Makes it difficult to hold the razor.”

“I can help,” I offer quietly, my heart thrashing as he turns to look at me.

It’s been a couple of days since we’ve had sex, and while we haven’t directly talked about it, and what it means, it does feel remarkably comfortable. We fooled around a little bit in bed last night before we fell asleep. Just some kissing and touching, but it feels good.

Feels good sleeping in his arms again. The nerves are still there, the fear of getting hurt again, but the more time we spend together, the more I let him in, the more that feeling lessens.

“You have to get to work,” he says.

“I’ve got time.” I pad into the bathroom, and Conrad takes a step back as I hoist myself up onto the counter. “Come here.”

As he comes to a stop directly in front of me, body positioned between my legs, I’m hit with so many memories at once. Trimming Conrad’s beard and shaving his neck were things I used to do often when we were still together. It was something I think we both loved. A time in the morning before the day started when it was just us, the smell of the shaving cream, and the sound of the razor swishing in the water. I never understood why, but it was always soothing for me.

It was something I very much enjoyed doing for him.

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