Page 110 of Rescuing Mary

“Hands back over your head,” Truck ordered.

She complied immediately, fisting the sheet under her hands as she arched her back.

Truck pushed up to his knees and lifted Mary’s ass. His first few strokes were smooth, but he soon lost control and began to pound into her. Not so out of it that he didn’t want her to get off too, his hand went back to her clit and he roughly thumbed it while he fucked her.

Within seconds, he felt his balls tighten and knew he was on the verge of coming.

“I love you, Mary,” he grunted.

Love you, Mary mouthed as she stared up into his eyes. She might not have said the words aloud, but the sentiment behind her actions went straight to his heart.

And that was all it took. Truck shoved into her as far as he could get and frantically thumbed her clit. He began to come a heartbeat before her. And the way her body clenched around his cock made his orgasm all the more intense.

They were both breathing hard by the time Truck recovered enough to straighten his legs behind him. The pillow under Mary’s ass stayed in place as he pulled out of her with a groan and put his head back on her chest. Truck felt her playing with his short hair. His head was back to throbbing, but he didn’t dare mention that to the woman under him. She’d have a pill stuffed down his throat so fast he wouldn’t know what hit him.

“Thank you,” Mary said softly.

That made Truck lift his head. He rested his chin on his hand on her chest and asked, “For what?”

“For seeing me, and not a breast cancer survivor.”

“You’ve always been just Mary to me,” Truck told her. “A pain-in-my-ass Mary.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Whatever.”

Truck laid his head back down. He should probably get up and take care of the condom before it made a mess all over the sheets, but he couldn’t summon the energy.

They fell asleep that way. Truck woke sometime later and got up and cleaned himself. He brought a warm washcloth into the bedroom and got a sleepy Mary cleaned up as well. Then he took the pillow out from under her ass and smiled as he turned it over and stuffed it under his head. He’d do laundry tomorrow, but he hoped her scent would permeate the pillow itself so he’d always have her with him.

Not bothering to get dressed, and feeling thrilled beyond belief that Mary didn’t make any move toward her chemise, he pulled her into his arms.

The redness on her chest still looked painful, even though Mary insisted she couldn’t feel anything from her collarbones to the bottom of her rib cage.

He had absolutely no opinion about the reconstruction of her breasts, except that he wanted what was safest for her. She could get Dolly Parton boobs or a modest B cup, he didn’t care. He also didn’t care if she decided she didn’t want to go through reconstruction at all. He could totally see her sporting a beautiful tattoo across her chest to celebrate her femininity and to say fuck you to the cancer. Whatever she wanted, it didn’t matter. He’d love her no matter what her decision.

Truck kissed the side of Mary’s head and smiled when she grumbled and turned her back to him. He snuggled up behind her, loving how she pushed her ass against his groin. Mary was prickly, but she was his. That was all that mattered.

Chapter Eighteen

Truck held Mary’s hand tightly as she knocked on Emily’s door with her free hand. They were late, but he didn’t think anyone would say anything about it. Mary looked like she’d recently been fucked to within an inch of her life…and she had.

He’d woken up horny as hell and ready to show his wife how they were going to spend the next three months of his recuperation. He’d eaten her to an orgasm, then put her on her hands and knees and taken her from behind. Then he’d dragged her into the shower, and she’d gone to her knees and shown him that she wasn’t going to let him call all the sexual shots in their marriage, which was more than all right with him.

Truck would’ve gotten them out of the apartment on time if she hadn’t teased him when they were making breakfast. In retaliation, he’d spread her out on the table and feasted.

“We’re late,” Mary mumbled.

“Yup,” Truck said without an ounce of remorse.

Mary glared at him. “You could at least attempt to look sorry,” she scolded.

Truck buried his nose into the skin at the side of her neck and wrapped an arm around her waist. “But I’m not. And our friends are gonna take one look at us and forgive us for being late.”

“They will not, Trucker, you better not—”

“Where have you been?” Emily asked huffily when she opened the door. “Everyone’s waiting to…oh…” Her voice trailed off when she got a good look at them.

“Hi, Emily,” Truck said, straightening but not moving his arm from around Mary’s waist. “Sorry we’re late.”