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Her tightness, her heat, her butterfly moans are the most sublime pleasure known to man, but watching her face, knowing she’s getting crushed as much as I am...
Holy fucking shit.
My climax is imminent, just as hers reaches fever pitch.
I jerk her down with a fist back in her hair, pinning her to the mattress, ramming in so deep my balls slap her ass.
She’s only seconds ahead of me, and the way every darling bit of her convulses tells me she’s coming like she never knew she could.
My release kicks like an angry mule, winding me up, turning my groan into one big, dark feral echo of the fire lashing out my balls.
We ride the pleasure tide together.
Consumed.
Destroyed.
Rebuilt.
Wave after wave after brutal fucking wave that tears us out of our bodies, joins our hearts, and power slams us back into ourselves.
It goes on for an eternity till I learn a whole new meaning of drained.
Damn.
Then she collapses on my heaving chest, all warm curls and sighs, tucking her head under my chin. Almost like she needs to feel safe from what the fuck just happened.
That makes two of us.
After I roll off the condom and tie it shut, tossing it in a nearby garbage can, I fold my arms around her.
It’s bittersweet holding her, unsure if I’ll ever find the words or the inspiration to describe just how amazing this is, and knowing she deserves to hear it.
I’m also not sure we’ll survive when it ends—and end it fucking must, sooner or later.
“Not bad. You’re not half bad, Grady McKnight,” she tells me with a smirk, tracing a teasing finger down my chest.
Her coy tone makes me laugh.
“You’ve had better? Bull. I know I haven’t, and I’m older than you.”
“I mean...” She pauses, her eyes flashing with laughter. “Not in this lifetime. I think it was like, a couple thousand years ago when I was Cleopatra...”
“What-the-hell-ever,” I growl, smiling anyway, giving her a long, solid hug, then kissing the tip of her ear.
One thing’s for sure: I’ve never been this addicted to a woman, and I’m astonished I’m already hard again this soon.
“Want to give me round two? No Roman boy ever laid it on like I’m about to,” I warn her, tugging at her bottom lip with my teeth while my fingers roll her nipple.
“So much tough talk but...fine. I thought you’d never ask,” she whispers, her hand already sliding down my thigh, hot and eager to get started.
Okay.
Shit.
Last night was the kind of go at it till we’re boneless incredible that only happens once in a blue moon—and good thing too or I’d be six feet under—but I have to admit the morning is a close second.
Waking up next to Willow and watching her sleep, makes me think about just how perfectly she fits in my arms.
In my life.
Before she showed up, I hadn’t even known I’d wanted that, much less how much my daughters needed a woman younger than Aunt Faye and Joyce in their lives.
In just a few weeks, they’ve come to adore the shit out of Willow. I’ve seen a change in them since she’s arrived. Hell, a change in everything.
A happiness, a wholeness, a sweetness that was missing from our lives.
And I have no frigging clue what I’ll do with that once she’s gone.
Another fact I can’t help noting—having a morning quickie is one awesome start to the day.
What starts with a round of good morning kisses and gentle touches rapidly devolves into her on all fours, begging for my finest.
She takes me like our whole day depends on it—if not her life—grinding her hips back on my shaft as I crash into her from behind.
It’s fast, coarse, and so intense it scalds me when I empty my balls inside her, hating the condom between us.
Somehow, some way, I’m going to come inside this woman if it’s the last thing I do.
A minor miracle happens when we’re finally able to peel ourselves off each other, clean up, and head up for breakfast.
The text message from Drake that arrives while we’re eating is good news.
He’s managed to squelch the posts online about a big cat sighting by putting out an official post from the police department, confirming a probable mountain lion.
The odd cougar isn’t that unusual in these parts. We’re also damn lucky there were a few wildcat sightings last week around Dickinson.
Just close enough to make our cover story believable.
“Must be nice having friends in high places,” Willow says after I read his post to her.
“Even nicer having a bud who only works to help this town out.” I smile as she lifts her brows. “Drake married a billionaire oil heiress, so he’s not in it for the money. If he’s got any sheriff ambitions, they’re right behind his need to serve and protect.”
Her eyes grow wide as she glances at the girls and then back to me.
