Page 115 of Heartless
“Good. Because I’m sick of holding back with you. You’re not going anywhere. You belong here, with me.”
He lifts me, arm wrapped around my stomach as he clutches me to his chest. His stubble rasps against the shell of my ear. “Rub your clit while I’m fucking you. Let me tell you how it’s going to be.”
My head falls back against his shoulder as one hand gathers the fabric of my skirt. The opposite one immediately dives between my legs and rubs circles while Cade holds me tight.
“You’re going to spend as much time as you want atourhouse,” he says, while thrusting into me slowly. “You’re going to work whatever job you want. Wherever you want. But you’ll always have a place here. A home here. I’ll make you coffee every morning. I’ll leave you all the Post-it notes you want. I’ll cook your dinner every day. I’ll eat your pussy in the hot tub before bed every damn night.”
Yes.
I whimper, almost sagging in relief at his confession. I didn’t even realize how badly I needed to hear that he wants me. For more than just a few weeks.
His voice is firm and then he stops, pressing a stubbled kiss to my exposed neck while his hands roam my breasts and I focus on breathing through my nose.
“But this pussy ismine,Willa.” He drags his lips over my skin until I can’t even think straight. I press harder on my clit, feeling myself barrel toward that finish line. “Mine to fuck.”
Yes.
I rub back on him as he holds me close. Every sensation magnified, more intense somehow. The scrape of his beard. The pressure of my fingers. The light-headedness seeping in.
My teeth bare down on the fabric in my mouth.
I shake in his hold.
“Mine to fill.”
Yes.
With that he pushes me onto the counter and unleashes, right as my vision blurs and I convulse, crying out his muffled name. My entire body surges with fire as I come apart beneath him.
We’re just energy, and heat, and breath. I’ve never been so thoroughly consumed in my life. Never had sex with such an edge to it.
“Mine.” His growl is downright feral as he explodes inside of me, hands tracing my back reverently. A man of such dichotomies. Hard words laced with love. Rough hands filled with tenderness.
Immediately, he reaches up and removes the fabric from my mouth. I pant and suck in air, which has more to do with the power of my orgasm than the gag he fashioned for me. His breaths are heavy and uneven, our skin is damp.
And even though I don’t think I can get any hotter than I already am, when he pulls away and puts one hand on each globe of my ass to watch me drip his seed, I do.
When he adds, “Just like that,” I press my forehead to the cool marble and let a quiet, breathy chuckle escape me.
“Jesus.”
With a firm slap, he huffs out a laugh, and it’s like I can still feel his eyes on the most intimate parts of me. I clearly have no shame because I make no move to stand. “Have I told you that you look perfect like this?”
I roll my forehead against the marble counter, still trying to get my bearings. “No. I think that’s a first for me.”
A satisfied noise rumbles from behind me, and I feel the soft slide of fabric covering my legs, followed by the gentle press of a kiss against my back. “Feeling better now?” Cade asks, pulling me up gently, hands never leaving my body as he turns me to face him.
“I’m feeling something alright.” I smile a little shyly at him. I mean, how can I not? The things that come out of this man’s mouth are downright shocking sometimes.
He eyes me skeptically, tracing my face with his gaze.
“I’m feeling better. Just...messy?” I glance down at myself. “I’ll just go clean up.” I reach out to swipe my discarded panties off the counter, but he grabs them first.
He gives me this evil smirk. A playful smirk? Maybe it’s a playful scowl? But it’s followed by, “No chance. You’re putting these on, and you’re going back out there like this.”
I shake my head at him, amused, as he drops to the ground and lifts my feet gently into the leg holes of the simple underwear. He presses a soft kiss to my stomach and then he’s up, moving around the kitchen, like this is all the most normal thing in the world. When I stop blushing enough to face him again, he’s poured me a glass of white wine and is waiting by the back door.
“Ready?” he asks with an outstretched hand and a lopsided smile on his face. A dimple I never even noticed has popped up. He looks boyish and beautiful. And like he might be mine after all.
