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There's something about him that makes me feel safe, secure, like nothing can touch me as long as he's by my side.
I moan softly into his mouth as he nudges my legs apart.
He kisses every inch of my skin, starting with my neck and moving down my shoulders then to my breasts. I arch my back as his lips close around my nipple, his fingers slipping between my legs. I gasp as he enters me, his movements slow and deliberate.
But I want more than his fingers. I want his dick buried deep inside me. “More,” I moan. “More.”
I don't even realize what I'm doing until I'm on top of him after shedding him of his pants, my legs straddling his hips. I position myself, his dick pressing against my sex. The thick tip of his cock slips into me, and I gasp, my body momentarily stilling.
He's so fucking big, and this angle almost hurts.
But I like the pain. I love it.
I start to move, sliding up his length, the feeling of his thickness stretching me so much more intense than his fingers.
I'm impaling myself on his cock, my moans loud and throaty. His hands grip my hips, forcing me to ride his cock, his hips rising to meet mine, driving his cock deep inside me.
I throw my head back, throwing my hair behind me as I let myself go, my orgasm exploding through my body like fireworks in the night sky.
I ride him harder and faster, my body desperate for more, needing more. My nails dig into his shoulders, my hips bucking wildly against him. I'm moaning louder and louder, my cries of pleasure echoing through the room.
I slow to a stop, straddling him and staring him in the eye as I move myself up and down his cock. He looks at me like I'm the most beautiful woman in the world as I ride him, my movements slow and rhythmic.
My eyes flutter closed as I near my next orgasm.
“That's right,” he whispers, his words soft and full of need. “Come for me, Hannah. Come for me.”
His words push me into my orgasm, his words and his cock. I throw my head back and scream his name, my body quivering as I come again.
He flips me over on the bed and positions himself behind me, his cock sliding into me once more. His hands grip my hips, and he thrusts deep into me.
His cock pulses inside me, his body growing tense and tight. He thrusts a few more times before growing still. He moans deeply as his cock twitches inside me, his hot seed filling me.
He pulls out and lies beside me on the bed, pulling me against his body.
“I love you, Flowers.”
I tuck my face against his neck, basking in the power of his words. In his love. His attention. His promise.
“I love you so much,” I tell him.
“You brought me back from the dead. You gave me a reason to live. I owe you everything. I want you to know, I will never let you down again.”
Tears spear my eyes once more. “I know you won’t,” I whisper against his skin.
I trust this man with my life. With our child. With our future.
He’s my everything.
Epilogue
Hannah
“The judges have viewed all the entries and picked four finalists to compete. Will the following florists step forward…”
Armando’s arm tightens around my thickened waist from behind. “It’s gonna be you,” he murmurs in my ear.
Marco and Leo both thump me on the back. I’m touched they came along. It’s really true that Armando’s family looks after one another. And that now includes me.
My heart taps a staccato beat against my ribs, but the truth is—I don’t care if I don’t make it to the finals. What’s more important to me is this feeling in my chest now.
The pouring flow of love, of support from him. The pleasure of having the person I care about most in this world at my side for the moments that matter.
As he promised, Armando used Emilio’s restitution payment to invest in Garden of Eden. He bought a new van and hired two part-time guys to make my deliveries. He’s thrown himself into building the business—our family business, he calls it—and in the last two months, revenue has already tripled. He talked the don into making physical upgrades and is looking into a second location. All the stuff that used to terrify me, he’s taken over, and he makes it look so easy. I can focus on what I’m good at—the artistic side, and we do the networking together, so it’s less intimidating.
“Hannah Munn,” the announcer says, and I gasp. I really didn’t expect to make it to the finals.
“Told you,” Armando rumbles in my ear before releasing me to go up on stage.
I draw in a shaky breath, shake out my hands and bend over to pick up my bucket of flowers.
