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My grip around her waist tightens while her head drops lower until she's biting the center of my throat. “I made all the boys eat me out before I put out for them.”
“Getting yours first.” I grin. “So, you were always greedy for an orgasm, then?”
“I’m greedy for a lot of things, Declan.” She tugs her shirt over her head. “Your cock is just the first one I’ve craved.”
A low hum leaves my chest as she glides her hand into the waistline of the jeans I’m wearing. She fists me; her nails digging into my shaft. That sweet feeling of pain laced with her intoxicating scent sends my hips thrusting into the hair. I’m suddenly desperate to fuck her, to make her scream my name for the ridge to echo around us. For everyone to know who she belongs to now.
“I have something to show you,” she whispers. Then she’s tugging down the top of her white cami, her tits springing free.
She grabs my hand and places it over her heart, right below the fresh ink of a new tattoo at the swell of her breast.
Declan.
Before I can respond with words, her hand slips around my throat and she tightens her grip. Air is harder to take in, but it makes my already aching cock swell more for her. Her mouth drops against my ear, and she tugs at it with her teeth.
“Fuck me, Mr. Murphy.”
“Take off your clothes, Future Mrs. Murphy.”
She stiffens, then pulls away to make eye contact with me. “What did you just say?”
“Take your clothes off.”
She shakes her head. “No. The other thing.”
“Future Mrs. Murphy.”
“Yeah.” Her voice cracks. “Dec?”
It’s my turn to take away her breath. I slide my hand into the pocket of my jeans and pull out the Tiffany Blue ring box. She snatches it and tugs off the white bow to open it. “We don’t need to legally get married,” I start. “Or you can keep Cullen. I know you want the same name as your kids. And I respect that. But I still want you, Samira.”
I brush the hair from her face, desperate to convey just exactly what I’m asking. “I have this weird need to own you. To claim you, for everyone to know you’re mine. That I’m fucking yours. So, marry me, baby. Make me the happiest man on Earth. We can have a ceremony. Call each other ours in all the ways that matter. In public, you can be Samira Cullen. Behind closed doors you can be Mrs. Murphy.”
She nods, tears falling down her cheeks. “Baby. I’ll be Mrs. Murphy in public, too.” Her lips find mine through her tears. “Samira Cullen died the day Ian died.”
I wrap a hand around her back, tugging her into my chest. She molds into me like we were made to be here.
“As much as I’m dying to bury myself inside of you, I have another surprise for you,” I say.
“What?”
“Your father brought me to the ridge a few nights ago.”
She rears back, mouth dropped in shock. “Are you leaving me for my father?”
I let out a snort, grab her hands, then bring us to stand. “No, you freak.”
Her hand slides into my back pocket, and we peer over the ridge. From here we can see her house. It’s small, no physical details able to be seen. But I move to the right where there’s a large plot of land and another tiny building.
“That’s Rittenhouse Mansion,” she says. “It burned down years ago.”
“But it was made of stone. So, the foundation survived.”
She peers up at me, brows scrunched. “How do you know that?”
“The realtor told me when I did the final walkthrough of the property.”
Her hand squeezes my ass. “You bought it?”
“It's ours, doll. A fresh start. No more nightmares, no more memories of what happened in your old house.”
“It’s. . . perfect,” she nods. “Can we go see it?”
I nod, pulling out the keys and jingling them in front of her. “But can we drive? Because my ass is sore.”
She lets out a bark of laughter, then stands on her tiptoes to kiss me. “Fuck,” she whispers, pulling away. “I never thought I’d be lucky enough to find love like this again.”
“I didn’t either.” I brush the hair from her face, my chest cracking with the admission. A lesser man would be jealous of a dead man. But all I feel is the need to hold her forever. I’ll never let her go.
The End.
