AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Tell me.”
“Harder. Make me come again.”
“Hot damn, girl.” He releases my breast so he can grip my waist, lift me and drag me back down on his hard cock, his breath hissing. “You make me... I can’t fucking... oh shit, yeah.”
He’s finally reduced to grunts as he pounds into me, hips rolling, thrusting hard, his teeth sinking into the skin of my neck, his hand gripping my breast so hard it hurts, the small nips of pain adding to the impossible tide of pleasure coming to drown me.
It rolls over me without warning, wrenching a cry from my throat, bowing my back, until my head falls forward to rest on his shoulder. My legs are trembling.
His stuttered moan turns into an almost-shout that I feel in my bones as his cock jerks inside me. He convulses, his hand dropping from my breast to my hip as the aftershocks rock him, and his bite on my neck turns into an open-mouthed kiss, soothing over what is sure to become a bruise. Ragged breathing washes over wet skin, making me shiver.
“Did I hurt you?” he eventually manages to ask. Our lovemaking can be rough sometimes and I often have to hide love bites at home and at work.
“Some pain is sweet,” I mumble, reeling with the pleasure that’s still zinging through me.
“Don’t ever let me hurt you.”
“Trust in yourself,” I whisper, turning my head to kiss his cheek. “You can’t hurt me. You won’t.”
He pulls me with him until we’re lying on our sides, spooning, his chest to my back. “I don’t always trust myself around you. I do stupid stuff.”
“Then you should always listen to me, because I know better,” I advise him and get a snort in return.
He sighs contentedly, nuzzling my hair. “God, I must’ve done something good in a past life to deserve this.”
“You’ve done plenty of good in this life, too, Ross Jones,” I inform him. “And you deserve every good thing.”
“I dunno. It may take me a few lives to win enough points to deserve you.”
I turn in the circle of his arms to face him, stroke back sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. “Did you know that I love you more than words can say?”
His lashes lower. His eyes glisten and his mouth twists. “Luna...”
“In this life, and in the next, I will love you, Ross Jones. Now and always.”
“Hold me,” he whispers, voice raw, and we wrap ourselves around each other until the next morning, and the one after, loving each other every morning of every day of our lives.
POSTSCRIPT
Luna
I have my mom’s phone number.
The little piece of paper clutched in my sweaty hand is burning a hole through my palm. Dad made a big show of scrawling the numbers on it and then presenting it to me. There was fear in his eyes. He thought I was mad at him.
But I am mostly mad at myself. That I didn’t ask more, push more, realize that I was willfully ignoring the truth.
That Mom did love us. I used to know that.
And that Dad was hurt and grieving in his own way. He loves Mom. He couldn’t help her, he couldn’t keep her, and then he had me and Josh to take care of, as well. Because we missed her, and we were angry, and couldn’t understand.
Poor Dad.
My hands are shaking. Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I smooth out the piece of paper on the comforter, and grab my phone.
Here goes.
Here goes, baby, let’s do this.
