Page 78 of Cuffed By Your Love
Her hair was wild, her eyes wide, her whole body trembling like the Holy Ghost had just walked in behind me.
I drove into her deeper, rougher, hitting the spot that made her scream like she was confessing to God and sinning at the same time.
And when she came again, screaming my name like it was the only one that mattered, I held her close, whispering filthy affirmations into her ear as my own nut tore through me, deep inside of her.
I uncuffed her, peppering soft kisses to her wrists, her lips, her soul.
“I wouldn’t want to be cuffed to nobody but you, Deputy Gorgeous. You mine. And I’m yours.”
I lay there for a second, watching my baby’s chest rise and fall like it carried every truth I’d been waiting my whole life to trust. Jonay’s skin glistened with the remnants of us; golden brown, rich like syrup, smooth like silk in warm hands, and soft like the hush of her breath spilling against my collarbone.
Her leg was draped across my thigh, her palm still flat on my chest like she was anchoring me in reality, like if she let go, I’d drift right out of her life.
Baby girl needed to understand leaving her wasn’t even in my DNA.
I traced my fingers along her spine, still feeling the imprint of her body wrapped tight around me, her whispers still echoing in my ear like soft threats and sweeter promises.
“You like that?” She purred earlier, mouth inches from my neck.
“Fuck yeah.” I groaned, jaw locked, hands full of them thick thighs like they were mine to pray over and misbehave with. “Damn, baby, you gripping my shit… tight as fuck.”
Now she was half-asleep, half-floating, cheeks kissed by the warmth of our chaos, and her locs spread across the pillow like a crown she didn’t need to explain. And I swore, in that moment, God wasn’t anywhere but in this room—with the lights dim, the scent of her still lingering, and peace heavy in the air.
I stared at her pretty ass, lips parted just a little, one arm tucked under her chin. The curve of her hips damn near made me want to start all over again. Her lashes were kissing her cheeks. Her lips still looked kiss-swollen and glazed with satisfaction. I wanted to touch her again. Hell, I always wanted to touch her, but first, I needed to take care of her.
That was what love looked like to me now: intentionality.
I let my mouth wander down her shoulder in soft kisses. Gentle. Worshipful. Like she was a hymn I’d been aching to sing, and every note belonged to her.
“Mmm,” she whispered, brows lifting slightly, a sleepy grin stretching across her pretty face. “Morning, Detective Fine Shyt. You trying to get something started again?”
I chuckled lowly in her ear, nuzzling her neck. “Nah, baby. Not yet. Right now, I just want to take care of you. Get up for me, ma.”
“Elias…”
“Get up, baby,” I said, voice smooth and gravelly all at once. “Let me clean you, my love.”
She opened her eyes, hazel and honey and heavy with tenderness, looking at me like I was something rare, but she was the one who didn’t make sense. She had no business looking that damn fine after I’d wrecked her entire soul and flipped her twice like a pancake in heat.
I sat up, pulled her up with me, and kissed her forehead. Then her nose. Then her lips.
“Stay here,” I murmured. “I got you.”
I grabbed a towel and headed to the bathroom. I ran the water just how I knew she liked it, not too hot, just enough to make her melt. I dropped in that soft vanilla bath soak she created that I secretly loved smelling on her. It reminded me of warm cake and soft thighs and dreams of me taking her in the back seat.
The steam started rising, kissing the mirror and fogging up the past like we were starting brand new.
I came back and found her sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing that sleepy, fucked-out look that made my chest ache and my dick twitch all over again. She rubbed her eyes, stretching her arms like a kitten, her locs tumbling down her back in a midnight mess.
“You’re running my bath, for real?” she asked, her voice low and textured, like rayon with a hidden snag, all soft temptation wrapped around a hint of grit.
“Damn right.” I smirked. “You think I was gon’ leave my pretty ass woman sticky, sore, and unattended after all that?”
She laughed, and it was sweet and raspy and filled the whole room like it knew it belonged.
“Well, come help me up then. You broke my damn legs.”
I strolled over to her slowly, slid my hands into hers, and eased her up to her feet. “You’re acting like you ain’t just have me out here thinking your name was Cowgirl Gorgeous.”
