Page 98 of Striker’s Rebel

June reaches back for me.

I catch her hand and pin it beside her on the table, leaning over her until my chest covers her back.

“Mine.”

Her breath stutters.

“Yours.”

That word still hits somewhere primitive.

Wife.

Woman.

Home.

Mine because she chose to be.

I kiss behind her ear and drive into her harder.

Her body starts tightening around me, her breathing breaking apart.

“Come for me, June.”

She does.

Her whole body locks beneath mine, a cry caught against her arm as she clenches around my cock.

That takes me with her.

I bury myself deep and come hard, holding her against the table while the last of it tears through me.

For a while, neither of us moves.

My breathing slows against the back of her neck.

June finally manages, “Feel younger?”

I laugh, low and rough.

“Careful.”

She turns her head.

“Why?”

I kiss the corner of her mouth.

“Night’s not over.”

Her smile comes back.

Good.

***

THE END