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Then and only then, on the tail-end of her orgasm, I pressed deep and came with her name on my lips, taking perhaps way too much pleasure in the idea of my cum inside her, in knowing it was a privilege she never afforded another man before.
Afterward, her body started trembling with aftershocks, overwhelmed. I rolled to my side, pulling her with me, tucking her head under my chin, my fingers trailing down her back, through her hair, as they rolled through her, lessening slowly over time.
She took a slow, deep breath when her body finally settled down, pulling slightly against my hold so she could look at me, her eyes a little heavy-lidded still, but knowing.
I knew it too.
Things had just changed.
Things had just gotten a fuck of a lot more serious.
Then her lips parted and when she spoke, her voice was a little small, a little shy. "You're still inside me."
"Mhmm," I said, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"I like that," she admitted, and I knew how much that meant. It didn't scare her like she expected it to- to take away the last literal boundary between us. She didn't regret it. She liked it.
"I like it too," I agreed, giving her a small smile. "And you can have that literally anytime you want from here on out. Bed, shower, car, in the glass fucking room on the roof- whatever gets your gears turning," I smirked, running my fingers down her arm.
"We should be getting back," she said, sounding unhappy at the prospect which made me feel fucking good about myself in turn.
"Yeah," I agreed though, because it was true. We might have been building something between us, but we still had lives and a job to do. So as much as I wanted to take to bed with her for a goddamn month, I recognized that that was not a possibility. "Alright," I said, slowly pulling out of her. "You get cleaned up. I will save you some pancakes."
She sat up, smiling. "You're going to eat without me?" she objected, snagging her shirt when I tossed it to her.
I pulled up my pants and zipped them. "If you hustle, I won't have to," I told her, pulling on my shirt as she jumped up and scurried to the bathroom, legs pressed tightly together and I couldn't help but smile at that as I sat to put my shoes back on.
By the time I was laced back up, she was walking out, dressed. But no amount of primping was going to take that post-fuck glow off her face.
And I wouldn't want it any other fucking way.FOURTEENMinaTwo days.
We had gotten two full, amazing days.
After we left the bed where I had done something I hadn't known I was capable of. I had given him something. And, judging by the way he looked at me while he accepted it, he knew just how huge that was. That meant something. Maybe for most women, it was no big deal to take off the condom when you knew both parties were safe and pregnancy wasn't an issue. But for me, it was a huge deal.
He simply got that.
Like he seemed to just get a lot about me.
The day afterward was a fury of activities. We ate. Lo came back, beaming ear-to-ear, picking up Malcolm and bringing him to see his father. From there, the kids were going stir crazy and Summer and Maze were clearly reaching their limit.
So me, Renny, and all the probates took turns trying to occupy them. Me and Cyrus occupied them for short bursts with video games.
Laz managed to get a very interested Ferryn involved in cooking lunch because unlike her mother and father, Lazarus let her work with the stove.
And Reeve, well, the damnedest thing happened.
Having had shown absolutely no interest in the kids before, or any of us really, we hadn't expected him to really pitch in on the 'give the mommies a break' plan. But he had disappeared for a minute then he had walked over to Fallon who was clearly lost with his age-mate Malcolm gone and feeling Reign's absence pretty hard, sat down beside him, pulled out a children's book, and started reading to him.
I elbowed Renny hard at the sight, making him make a grumbling sound before I jerked my chin over toward the pair and his gaze followed. He turned back to me, brows low, and I shook my head. I had no idea what it was about either. Or where he had gotten the book.
Granted, it wasn't exactly age appropriate.
It was Gary Paulsen's "Hatchet" that I myself had read when I was closer to the protagonist's age, at ten. It was the story of a boy who survives a plane crash in the wild and is alone and needs to learn to survive. Some of the subject matter was a bit out there for a six-year old. But, then again, I imagined Reeve figured that a kid growing up in an MC compound surrounded by arms dealers and their lawless counterparts, he could handle a little literary violence.
