Page 157 of Intense
It’s intimate in a way that feels dangerous. Like he’s seeing parts of me I don’t even show myself. Sparking something inside of me I didn’t even know existed.
My hands find his shoulders, sliding down his back, gripping hard when he changes angle and hits something that makes me cry out and my entire body shake.
“You’re doing a perfect job, love. You were made for me.”
His eyes darken, but his touch stays steady, each movement sending heat coiling tighter in my belly. “You feel that, love? That’s me and you, there is nothing else between us.”
I nod, my voice caught somewhere between a moan and a whimper.
“Say it,” he orders, his thumb finding my clit.
“It’s just you and me,” I breathe.
His control slips then, the thrusts growing harder and faster, his forehead dropping to mine. I can feel the tension in him, the fight between staying here in this slow burn and chasing the edge.
Our lips collide brutally. I’m clawing at his back, my breath burning in my lungs. I’m letting him take me. Own me. And ruin me for any other man.
“Come with me,” he growls.
The heat breaks first in my chest, then everywhere at once. My walls clamp down around him, pulling him in deeper as he groans and spills inside me, holding himself there while my orgasm milks every last drop.
He stays buried in me, his weight grounding me, our breaths mingling in the silence after. I feel his heart hammer against mine, the sweat cooling between our skin.
When he finally pulls out, the loss makes me whimper, but then his fingers are there, catching the slick mess of him inside me.
His eyes meet mine as he pushes it all back in with a grin.
“You keep it,” he says softly, almost like a vow.
“I told you I wanted to show you what I wanted with you.”
It’s a silent truth, and one I want too. That future probably neither of us ever pictured for ourselves.
“I’m not on the pill,” I admit.
Everything messes with my hormones too much and sends me crazy every month. Nothing ever worked. And it’s not as if I make a habit of having sex. Usually it’s a drunk one-night stand.
“Good. Makes the risk even greater.” He grins.
“You’d want a baby with me? You’re serious?” I ask, tilting my head, trying to assess what’s going on in his brain.
“You pregnant with my child would send me over the brink to insanity.” He twists his fingers inside of me, and I cry out.
“And it’s now all I can think about.”
I shake my head.
“This is crazy,” I mutter.
“Is it? Says who? Who makes the rules? We’re married. I’m not a stranger, I am your husband. I’ve stayed and fought your every attempt to get rid of me. So yes, I am confident that I want you to have my babies.”
My eyes go wide.
“More than one?”
He licks his bottom lip.
“You need your head checked. What have you done with Dr. Quinn?” I joke.
