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To my amusement, the girl at the reception desk pipes up. She’s a pale, flaccid thing with a raging case of acne on her cheeks.
“Don’t forget to charge them an extra cleaning fee!” she says. “You know, because they got the yoga mats dirty. Consuela said it was going to take some special sponges and detergent just to get the smell out.”
I throw my head back and laugh then, flashing a dazzling white smile. Because the yoga mats are stained with a hot cream pie, my semen dripping straight from Melissa’s ass. I’ve never been so proud to brand my woman, and leaving some around to mark my territory? Sounds perfect.
So I reach for my wallet, flipping it open and tossing both our membership cards onto the counter.
“No worries,” is my drawl. “I have an in-home gym anyways. Come on, sweetheart, let’s go. Good evening.”
And with that, Melissa and I fly through the heavy glass doors.
But once we’re in the car, the brunette turns to me.
“Oh my god, did we just …?” she asks breathlessly, eyes wide. Her cheeks flush, that beautiful body trembling a bit. I palm a big tit, squeezing a bit.
“We did,” I confirm. “We got ourselves expelled from the ritziest athletic club in town. But you know what, sweetheart? It felt good, and I don’t regret it one bit. Because having you like that was worth it.”
And with a saucy look in her eyes, Melissa leans forward to kiss me on my lips.
“You know, before I met you, Mace Jackson, I was a really boring person. I lived to work, instead of working to live. But you’ve brought out the bad girl inside.”
I grin at her.
“And?”
She blushes again.
“And I love it,” she confesses softly, pressing her lips to mine again. This time, it’s more than a brush of our mouths. It’s a full-on lustful connection and I feel her begin to melt again. “I love you, Mace Jackson.”
I jerk suddenly, my body on high. Because did she really just say it? Those perfect three words that have been shining from her eyes these past couple months?
But it really happened. After a dirty anal sex session that got us kicked out of an exclusive athletic club, my girl has finally declared her love. And you know what? I love her too, I want her to bear my children, and most importantly … I’ll never get enough.
Chapter 11
Melissa
I wish I could say that everything ends happily, but for us, there’s more to the story. Because Mace has prostate cancer right? He has elevated PSA levels that are a strong indicator of bad cells gone wild. So what do we do?
As we drove home, our hands were linked.
“Are you going to make me an honest woman?” I ask teasingly.
Mace keeps his eyes on the road.
“Oh I’m gonna do more than that,” he growls. “Just wait for it, baby.”
And inside, I’m thrilled. Because I know where this is headed. Despite the fact that my man is sick, we want to live every day to its fullest. We want to shout our love from the rooftops so that everyone knows, and to experience what this wonderful place called Earth is. We want to have a dozen babies together, god willing.
So when we pull up to his apartment building, Mace tosses his keys to the porter as if he’s in a rush.
“Hey Carlo,” he growls, grabbing my arm and dragging me from the Maserati. “Same as always.”
“Mace!” I whisper, cheeks flushed. “What’s going on? Everyone’s looking, including the old lady who lives in 5B.” Because it was true. Mace was dragging me through the marbled entrance to his building with a determined look on his face, uncaring that his neighbors were staring. And poor Mrs. Johnson from 5B looked absolutely scandalized. Her white curls trembled in the air, just like the fur coat on her Yorkie-poo.
“Mace,” I whispered again as we waited for the elevator. “Slow down! There’s nothing that’s so urgent.”
But the big man swung blazing blue eyes to me then.
“Speak for yourself,” he growled. “But I have something for you, sweetheart, and the time is right. I want to make you mine, and I can’t wait a second longer.”
The breath left my lungs in a whoosh.
“Are you saying … ?” I stammered, my heart pumping a million miles a minute. I couldn’t believe it. I’d just said “I love you” to the man, and suddenly he’d turned into a whirlwind of activity like the Tasmanian devil on speed.
As the elevator dinged his floor, Mace pulled me from the wood-paneled box and into his apartment. Usually, it takes me a moment to adjust because Mace’s place is a luxurious wonderland. The man must have spent seven figures on the place because he’s got floor to ceiling windows with a view of the river, as well as priceless art on the walls and sculptures that beg to be admired and studied.
