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I scream his name, bucking my hips, grinding against his tongue, praying for him to have mercy and to never stop.
The second orgasm hits with the force of an atomic bomb. And all I can do is take it. It's heaven and it's hell, my own personal paradise.
Cormac flips me onto my back, rolling on top of me. He pries the pillow from my grip, those eyes still full of deadly possession. "You wear panties around other men, Mischief," he growls, leaning down so his lips are a mere breath from mine. "Or you'll be walking around dripping my cum morning, noon, and night."
"Cormac," I whimper.
"Fuck. It's impossible to be mad at you when you sound so sweet saying my name like that." He brushes my hair back from my face, brushing his lips against mine in a gentle kiss. "Who am I kidding? It's impossible to be mad at you when you own my whole goddamn heart."
"Make love to me."
He drags my leg up over his hip, tangling our hands together.
We both moan as he pushes his way inside me, slowly stretching me. His hips come to rest against mine, and once again, I know what it is to be complete.
"I love you, Mischief," he breathes. "Fuck, how I love you, little girl."
"Show me," I demand.
He does. With his body covering mine, with his lips, and hands, and whole heart, he does.
"Marry me," he whispers hours later, holding me close. "Stay right here in Silver Spoon Falls and build a future with me, Mischief."
My breath stalls in my throat. I flip around in the bed to face him. "Do you mean it? You want to marry me?"
He smiles, stroking his finger down my nose. "I even asked Mac for permission. Mostly."
"Mostly?" I give him a look.
"Okay, I told him that I'm marrying you and he needs to give us his damn blessing to make you happy and shit." Those dimples pop out, wicked humor dancing in his eyes. "Frankly, Mischief, the fact that I said anything before marrying you makes me his favorite son-in-law right now."
"Cormac!"
He chuckles. "I'm just kidding, baby. I asked his permission. I even let him threaten my life and my cock."
I groan, burying my face against his shoulder.
"Are you going to say yes?"
"I'm trying to decide," I tease. "Does this proposal come with a ring?"
"Yes, but no."
"Yes, but no? I wonder about your sanity sometimes, Tiny."
"Shit, me too." He laughs. "You have a ring, Mischief. But Dillon is a dick. He wouldn't let me back in the house to get it."
"What does it look like?" I ask. Truthfully, it could have come from a Cracker Jack's box, and my answer would still be the same. But if I don't torture him a little bit, I'm not doing my job.
"It's purple, he says. "And it vibrates."
"It vibrates?"
He waggles his brows suggestively.
I smack him with a pillow, making him laugh.
"Stop fucking with me and say yes, Bella," he growls, wrestling the pillow away and then pinning me beneath him. "Marry me."
