Page 90 of Stealing Blinds

She talks a good game, but her voice is thick with the haze of desire. She won’t last much longer, but neither will I. Her sassy confidence is wrecking me damn near as much as how spectacular she feels.

I slide my hand beneath her taut stomach, hover over her, and yank her up a little more by her hair. With another punishing thrust inside her sopping heat, I sink my teeth into her shoulder and rasp my demand. “If you wanted to annihilate me with your heavenly cunt, mission accomplished. I’m as destroyed as you are. Come with me, Sylvie.”

She turns her head in my grip, just enough to glimpse me, and a devilish smirk quirks her lips. What I see as a friendly truce and a demand, she views as a plea. I let her have her victory because within seconds of her triumphant side-eye, she practically screams, throttling my dick like I’ve never fucking experienced.

It siphons all the thoughts and breath and restraint from me. My orgasm strikes like a clap of thunder, and my vision darkens. Electricity zips up my spine, my balls tighten until they’ve fucking crawled inside me, and my thrusts become jerky spasms, accompanied by unintelligible curses. I let go of her hair and lift her enough so I can wrap my arms around her while tremors rack through both of us.

This woman is bewitching. I told her when we were in Florida that she was in me. But it’s more than that. I am possessed by her. And we’re just beginning. It’s fucking nerve-racking.

The thought of my cum swimming inside her has me still half hard. Keeping her always full of me is instantly my most pressing mission. I nestle my face in the crook of her neck. It’s vanilla bourbon and one more place where we fit together perfectly. A blissful serenity I never saw coming. But I don’t get to stay there.

As we’re settling down from our high and grounding ourselves in the pool, my consciousness grabs on to the unappealing music list right as “Dick in a Box” cuts through the night.

That takes us both out of commission, our laughter drowning out the song.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

It was a marathon all right. We migrated from the pool to the shower, where Sylvie managed to have me rock hard again by the time I finished washing her, so I shoved her to her knees and fucked her throat. And there she was—small and wet and kneeling before me, but holding all the goddamn power.

I carried her into my room and tried to let that be enough. We were both exhausted, but within an hour of climbing beneath the sheets and talking about music and magic and trivial things that seemed far more important because I got her take on them, I thrust inside her again, committed her rapturous cries to memory, and stayed there until we woke up this morning.

We slept in late and had breakfast in bed, and now we’re side by side on the love seat in my room, where she rode me into another state of consciousness less than a half hour ago. We’re willing ourselves to find the energy to start the day, both of our phones buzzing incessantly. She shuts hers off without looking at it, which has unease prickling my skin. I think it’s her sister she’s avoiding, but I don’t question her about it. We’re still in a starry-eyed bubble, and since I know there’s shit to deal with and some perilous days ahead, I plan to soak up every second of jubilation we have.

When I grab my phone and chuckle through the first several texts on a thread with my brothers, she nuzzles closer, so I pull her onto my lap. She’s wearing another one of my T-shirts, some faint bite marks from yours truly, and a pair of panties. I think I’m going to mandate that she never wears more than that while in this room, but so far, I haven’t needed to.

Ryker: Mercy has been emotional. I don’t think I’m supposed to say it has anything to do with the pregnancy, but I might need some help.

Jax: What kind of help are we talking about?

Maddox: I second that. Boat? Handcuffs? Reinforcements?

Ryker: Do not ever mention handcuffs regarding my wife again.

Maddox: That’s fair. I’m not even gonna call you a bulldozer for that one.

Axel: I’m in between calls. You have a very small window to obtain my advice.

That catches me up, so I can chime in at the ideal time.

Me: That’s cold, even for you, Axe.

Axel: You know what’s cold? An empty pool.

“Oh my gosh,” Sylvie whines, burying her face in my chest, which only makes me laugh.

I don’t call her out on the fact that she dished the razzing without issue when I first brought her home, but I do prepare her. “You gotta get over any type of embarrassment with this crew. They will smell that fear and pounce on it.”

“That makes me feel much better,” she deadpans, peeking at the next message coming in.

Maddox: I’m guessing we escalated past the “I Touch Myself” part of the evening, huh, bro?

Me: Sure did, jackass. We cruised right into the “Dick in a Box” portion.

Maddox: Impeccable timing. Did Sylvie like her gift?

“This is less about you and more about this time I orchestrated a blow job between him and Tessa during an important call, and it got sticky.”

“Sticky?” she parrots, but I don’t elaborate.