Hard and fast thrusts are the order of the night, and the exquisite pressure has me writhing against the sheets again.
Each time his cock drives into me, he rubs against that soft pad he discovered that first time.
I scream his name when release hits.
I can’t contain it.
Don’t want to.
I let it out, explode as he forces me to come, hitting that spot over and over and over until I’m pretty sure I’m going insane.
The short, sharp scream morphs into an endless wail that marries with his growl. The speed of his thrusting varies, and how he forcibly drags my ass into him has me clawing at my hair as he uses me to find his own pleasure.
Roots stinging from the abuse, I force my hands to the sheet so I can tug and pull on the fabric instead. It’s too much, much too much.
I didn’t know I was sobbing until he presses his mouth to mine. “Kotik, all is well.”
His lips trace over the curve of my cheeks, tongue trailing over the tears, sweeping them away as I continue to shiver in reaction to my orgasm.
My legs are trembling. Literally trembling. My muscles contract and pulse of their own volition like they’ve been hit with an electric shock.
“I-I can’t make them stop,” I rasp, embarrassed but also concerned.
“So sensitive,” he returns, running his nose over mine before settling a tender kiss on my lips. “So perfect.”
He rolls us over until I’m on top of him, and his hands rub my still-shaking legs.
I huddle against his chest, my nose burrowed into his throat.
The soft caresses, that gentle stroking, the sensation of being utterly wrung out from pleasure have me sagging deeper into his hold.
Throw in the fact that I feel safe, that nothing and no one will touch me while I’m in his arms, and my limbs turn to Jell-O with my subconscious demanding I rest.
“Tired now.”
He chuckles. “Sleep,kotik. Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Who am I to argue with what sounds like a promise?
FORTY-NINE
SHE MADE ME JAM. *HEART EYES*
I watchher over my phone as she putters around the kitchen. Entranced by the sight even though it’s like watching a Martian ordering McDonalds.
Arching a brow when she darts outside and returns with a large stone bowl, I stand and take the weighty item from her. A glance at the contents reveals…water.
“What are you doing?”
“Never you mind.” My lips purse as I hide a smile while she gestures at the counter. “You can put it there.” She busses my cheek in thanks then retreats to the yard once more.
I peer through the window and watch as she heads to a small bush. Snatching a few sprigs from it, she returns to the kitchen with a bounce in her step.
“Seriously, what are you doing?” I insist when the scent of rosemary floods the room as she pinches the needle-like leaves between her fingers and drops them into the water.
“There was lightning last night.”
Utterly confused, I prompt, “And?”
