Page 114 of Fortress of the Cursed

“Because make-up sex is the best sex.” He crashes his lips to mine, pinning me by the wrists as he presses his body down hard onto mine. “We fit so well.”

“Yes,” I murmur. It’s like no time has passed between us. “We do.”

I’m slippery wet with his cum still inside me. He could just slide straight in, but he doesn’t. Instead, he kisses me, over and over and over.

I’m begging and desperate by the time he moves his mouth to my neck, where he sucks hard at my pulse point, knowing he’ll leave a mark, but he doesn't care, and neither do I.

I wrap around him, like he’s always been there, and warmth floods through me. Hitting me from all sides.

It’s been a big night.

I got attacked.

Fynn drove me here.

We had sex, multiple times.

We said I love yous.

He wants to impregnate me.

And he can’t stop kissing me.

I don’t know how I fell into heaven on earth, but that’s what it feels like in his arms.

“Baby?” he murmurs, stopping his sucks and kisses as his eyes meet mine.

“Yes.”

“You okay?”

“I’m good,” I say, and for the first time in a long time, I really mean it.

“I don’t ever want to see you cry.”

“Those were tears of joy, not sadness.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Still, I don’t like it. I don’t like anything except a smile on your face.”

“Since when did you get so sentimental?”

He smiles, looking down at me. “I’ve always been a hopeless romantic, that hasn’t changed.”

That part is at least true.

“You do look good wrapped around me.”

“What about you wrapped around me?”

“Are we really going to fight about that?” I muse.

“If it leads to more make-up sex.”

He kisses me again. “You really do have a one-track mind.”

“You bet ya.”

I feel his hard cock against my stomach, and I wonder if this man can go all night.

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