Page 33 of Echo’s Secret

"Good. Come with me this time." His thrusts are getting erratic. Less under control. "Where do you want it?"

"Inside," I say immediately. "Come inside me."

"Hannah—"

"Fill me up."

He groans. "You sure?"

"Yes. Mark me. Make me yours completely."

That does it. His rhythm breaks completely. He slams into me three more times and then I feel him pulse inside me. The sensation of him coming triggers my second orgasm. My eyes roll back again as pleasure crashes through me even harder than the first time. My whole body convulses. I scream into the desk, hands scrabbling for purchase, finding nothing.

Wesley's grip on my hips is the only thing keeping me from collapsing completely. He holds me steady while we both shake through our orgasms.

For a moment, there's nothing but the feeling of being completely connected to another human being. Then slowly, gradually, we both come back to earth.

Wesley pulls out, and I feel his white gooey liquid drip down my thighs. It’s filthy, possessive and I love it.

Strong arms wrap around me from behind. Pull me upright against a solid chest. I lean back against Wesley, my legs still shaking too badly to support my own weight.

"I've got you," he murmurs against my hair. "I've got you."

We stand there breathing hard. Both of us wrecked. Both of us satisfied in a way that goes beyond just sex.

"That was..." I can't finish the sentence. Don't have words for what that was.

"Yeah."

I turn in his arms to face him. His eyes are soft. Content. Happy in a way I've rarely seen.

"Welcome home," he says.

Tears prick my eyes. "Home?"

"This is your home now. Here. With me. With Theo. With the club. You're home."

I press my face against his chest and let the tears fall. Not sad tears. Relief tears. Joy tears.

Home. I'm home. After thirty-four years of searching, I finally found it.

Wesley holds me while I cry, one hand stroking my hair, the other wrapped around my waist. He doesn't shush me or tell me to stop. Just lets me have this moment. Lets me feel everything I've been holding back.

When the tears finally slow, I pull back enough to look at him. His beard is damp, and his eyes are docile and understanding.

"Sorry," I say, voice thick. "I don't usually—"

"Don't apologize. You needed that."

I did. God, I really did.

We stand there for another moment, both of us naked, sweaty and thoroughly fucked. Then Wesley steps back and starts gathering our scattered clothes.

"We should probably get cleaned up before Theo gets back," he says, handing me my shirt. "Pretty sure the whole clubhouse heard us."

My face heats. "Oh God. Everyone definitely heard us."

"Probably." He doesn't look bothered. "But they'll get used to it."