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Holy crap. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this—the thrill of having him inside me, his pleasure shuddering through his strong body, his need for me—and mine for him. His cock filling me up, taking me high, his mouth on mine, his scent all around me.
This melding of bodies and souls that gets to me every single time when I’m with him.
He sinks home, and his eyes flutter closed. He braces his good arm on the counter and his powerful shoulders tremble as he tries to control himself, not pound into me without restraint.
But I want him to do it. Need it.
“Show me what you want,” he breathes. “Show me, Manon.”
So I do. Not just what I like, what I want—but
who I love: him, and nobody else. He’s everything I need.
Tightening my hold around his neck, I pull his head down and kiss him, really kiss him, like he taught me. The way I want him. The way I love him. Deep. Hard. Demanding.
Wanting.
He grunts, kissing me back, and starts rocking faster. My heels dig into his hard ass as the pressure builds inside me. We’re still kissing, tongues tangled, lips locked when it happens—when the dam breaks and the pleasure crests, breaking me to pieces, turning me inside out.
He moans in my mouth, thrusting once, twice, then he hunches over me as he comes apart, shaking and jolting in my core, sending through me aftershocks of pleasure.
We cling to each other, panting, trying to catch our breath. I run my fingers through his silky, dark hair, amazed that I’m with this amazing guy. That he wants me, and loves me, and that we have each other.
The light outside is brightening. A new day is breaking.
“Hey.” His voice is raspy. He’s still inside me, we’re still connected, and I bite my lip not to moan when he shifts, drawing back just enough to look into my face. “What’s on your mind now?”
“You,” I tell him truthfully. “Only you.”
Now and always.
