“Ask me for it, Millie.”
I blinked and looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering. “Ask…ask you?”
“I need to know you want it,” he said. Another stroke. My god. “Then I’m gonna breed you all night.”
I swallowed hard.
He was still stroking himself. Slow and deliberate, watching me with those dark eyes, completely unhurried, and I was lying on this quilt with nothing on and three and a half years of deprivation and the specific sight of this man touching himself was going to actually kill me.
"I want it," I said.
"Tell me what you want."
"I want—" I stopped. My face was hot. My whole body was hot. “I want you inside me.”
Something happened in his face—something that cracked the control open just slightly, just enough to see what was underneath it, which was hunger, deep and focused and pointed directly at me.
"Say it again," he said.
I held his gaze.
"Breed me," I said. "Please. I want you to fill me up and I want it to take and I want—" I took a breath. "I want to have your baby, Gage. That's what I'm here for. That's what I want. So please?—"
He was on me before I finished the sentence.
Mouth on mine, deep and rough, his body covering mine. I grabbed his shoulders and kissed him back just as hard, and his hand slid down my stomach and between my thighs.
He groaned against my mouth at what he found. "You’re fuckin’ soaked, Millie," he said–one arm braced around myshoulders, the other working inside me…his fingersinside, oh god?—
“Mmhm,” I breathed.
"All for me."
"All…all for you."
He made a sound low in his chest and then his hands were at my hips, turning me. I went easy, no resistance, rolling onto my stomach. Gage’s big hands found my hips again and pulled me up onto my knees, my back arched, his cock gliding between my folds.
His hand ran down my spine. Slow. All the way down. I shivered.
"Look at you," he said, low. His hands curved over my ass, squeezing, and I pressed back against him. "Look at this body."
I couldn’t speak. Didn’t want to. Didn’t want to ruin this insane moment, howgoodit all felt.
“This body was made to take my cock, Millie,” he went on. He drew his hand back and slapped my cheek hard enough for the sound to whip through the space, and I squeaked and pushed back toward him. He let the head of his cock slip inside me, then out again. “This body was made to have my baby. You hear me?”
“Yes…yes?—”
He spanked me again. I jolted, my nipples scraping almost painfully against the quilt.
"Yes," I said again, louder. "Yes, I hear you."
"Good girl."
He pushed inside.
All the way. One long slow stroke that didn't stop until his hips were flush against my ass and I could feel every inch of him and I made a sound that I will never admit to making in polite company.
He held there.
