Page 99 of Indigo

Still stunned by the change of pace, I hesitate before placing my hands on her hips as she begins to ride me. This angle is hitting so much deeper, and the way she’s bouncing up and down has my teeth chattering with pure pleasure, but my brain is flicking back and forth between being completely and utterly turned on and confused.

“Jesus, baby.” I groan as she moves.

The sight of me disappearing inside of her every time she grinds down onto me, clearly using my pubic bone to stimulate her clit, is fucking incredible.

With a satisfied smirk, she leans down and places her hands on my chest. “I don’t need you to love me right now, Pax. I need you to fuck me. That’s all.”

Fucking what?

Quickly, I grab both her ass cheeks and clench them tightly in my hands, sitting up so that she can still move, but changing the angle and our closeness. Raising one hand to her throat, wrapping my fingers around her tiny neck, I squeeze gently, and her eyes widen before she melts against me, her tits rubbing against my chest every time she moves.

“You think I don’t love you when we fuck like this? I love you when we’re fucking slow and deep. I love you when you’re bent over, and I’m shoving my cock so far inside of you it makes you want to cry. It’s not something I choose to do, Blue. Loving you is my religion. I worship you every fucking day of my life.”

She throws her head back, and moans as I dip my head, place one hand behind me for support, and take her nipple back into my mouth.

“I’m so close,” she whimpers, bouncing on my lap, taking her pleasure from me. “Shit, shit, shit.”

I sit up more, taking her hips in my hands as her movements become untrained and erratic, using my grip to lift her up and down on my cock. “Scream for me,” I groan, my orgasm right fucking there. I’m simply waiting for her to detonate so I can do the same. “I want to hear you. Want theneighboursto fucking hear you.”

My girl doesn’t disappoint. As her pussy clenches around my cock, she screams so loudly that the sound actually rings in my ears as I come deep inside of her, her walls pulsing around my cock, draining every drop of cum from my body.

Her body sags against mine, and eventually, our breathing evens out.

I roll her onto her side of the bed and stagger over to the bathroom to grab a flannel. After making sure it’s nice and warm, I return to her side and clean her up. Her nose scrunches as I wipe her, as if this is the first time I’ve ever done it, but she hums happily when I tuck her back underneath the covers.

Indie insists on finishing the movie, promising she won’t fall asleep, but the dopey look on her face as I climb back into bed, and she lays her head on my chest, tells me otherwise.

“I’m never going to look at your bear tattoo the same after this.” She giggles sleepily into my side as we watch yet another person get mauled to death by the beast on the television.

I won’t either, but for a very different reason. The animal on my arm won’t remind me of this movie, simply tonight.

Within ten minutes, my girl’s fast asleep, and her little snores fill the room between scenes. I hold her tightly against my side as she dreams, thankful that we’re here.

That we got through the worst of it.

Together.

-34-

PAXTON

“INDIE, FOOD'S READY,” I call out as I place the tray of lasagna on the stove, fresh from the oven.

When she asked me to make it earlier, I tried to convince her to let me cook her something else, considering we had none of the ingredients in the house, but the pleading look on her face when she told me she was craving it had me walking my ass down to the grocery store and spending well over an hour in the kitchen preparing it for her.

“Oh, good,” she calls back from the bathroom, where she’s been for the past forty-five minutes. “Grab the blender out too, please.”

“The blender?” I whisper to myself, but do as I’m told and rummage through the cupboard, looking for it, ‘til a knock at the door pulls my attention elsewhere.

“You expecting someone?”

She doesn’t respond, and as I pull open the door, I find Jagger, Matt, Paisley and Josh all crowded onto Indie’s little porch.

Me not asking them to come in doesn’t seem to bother them, because one after the other, they push past me and head straight for the kitchen. Paisley shakes a bottle of tequila at me as she passes, a shit-eating grin on her face, and then it hits me.It’s Monday.

I race into the kitchen where Jagger’s already found the blender and put it out on the counter, and Paisley is fussing around in the fridge.

“Guys,” I say in a hushed tone. “I don’t know how Indie will react to this. Margarita Mondays were her and Lana’s thing.”

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