Page 22 of 3 Stolen Kisses

“Feel that?” My words rumble against her lips, and Ali whimpers. Nods feverishly. “Feel how good it is when you relax? Don’t tense up, baby. Let me in. Let me in. Trust me.”

“Okay, daddy.”

Jesus H. Christ. This girl will be the death of me.

And even with her body relaxed, even with her slicker than a slip’n’slide, it takes us a while. It’s a steady process of nudging forward and letting her adjust; of rubbing her clit until she melts against the mattress again, tossing her head with frustrated pleasure. My forehead is creased with focus, my breaths coming in short, anguished puffs, and my spine is damp with sweat, but I don’t care.

There’s nothing I’d rather be doing right now. No one I’d rather be with.

Alison Wainwright ismine.

Mine.

Mine.

My perfect girl.

“Oh.” When I’m halfway in, things start to speed up. Ali starts rocking her hips up, chasing that friction, her thighs squeezing my hips. “Oh, god. Oh, god.”

Tell me about it.

“You’re so hot inside, baby. So searing hot. My perfect little furnace.”

She whimpers and tosses her head. I slide an inch deeper, cursing under my breath.

And by the time I wedge all the way home, by the time we’re sealed as tight together as we can physically go—I’m ruined. Feel like I’ve run a marathon, and had my heart wrung out like a dish towel.

“Alison. Ali Cat. Shit, you feel too good.”

She nods, burying her my throat, and lets me thrust. Lets me pick up the pace, clinging to my shoulders the whole time.

“You’re too good. Too perfect. Shit, I’m not gonna last. You feel too fucking good.”

And I’d be ashamed of this fact, I’d be embarrassed by the confessions spilling from my lips—except that Alisonlovesthem, moaning and bucking her hips, clearly getting off on the fact that she’s wrecked me so badly. Getting high on her effect on me.

Well, if that’s what she likes… then I guess that’s what I like, too.

“So that’s what you wanna hear, huh?” I push up on my hands, thrusting so hard her tits jiggle, watching my girl with narrowed eyes. The room around us is all moonlight and shadows, the sounds from the party outside muted by the glass windows. Red and gold fireworks explode out there, bursting over the night sky.

“You want to hear how I can’t control myself with you? You want to watch me lose my cool? Turn me into some ten-pump chump, losing my goddamn mind over your perfect pussy? That’s what you want?”

And Alibeamsup at me, her whole body rocking with my thrusts, and nods that beautiful head. “Yes, daddy. That’s what I want.”

Jesus.

My hips slam harder, punishing her with each thrust. And Alison takes it all, lets me use her and drip sweat on her and tug her nipples between my teeth, moaning like it’s the best thing she’s ever felt.

“No more parties after this.” I force each word between gritted teeth, because my whole body is coiled tight now, desperate to come. Every second I hold off is a goddamn miracle, my body stroking into hers, lighting up every nerve ending.

“No more Wainwright mansion. No more shitty Christmases and sad little bucket lists that break my heart. You’re coming home with me, you hear? You don’t need another bodyguard when you’re with me. You’re mine now, Ali.Mine.”

“Oh, please!”

Alison comes for a second time with her little hand jammed between us, rubbing away at her clit, her knuckles brushing my belly. And the second she clamps down on me, the second those ripples shudder through her body, I drop to my elbows on top of her and follow with a roar.

It’s so good it’s painful. Wrenched from the center of my body; from the depths of my fucking soul.

I fill her up with spurt after spurt, until she’s dripping on the bed and I need a gallon of water to recover.

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