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I guide my tip to her slit and shove myself home inside her as she spasms. “Yeah, baby. That’s it. Just like that. Scream for me… Let it all out…”
My words are a panted mantra as I flatten her facedown onto the bed and pump inside her like this is the last fuck I’ll ever have.
Like I can’t bury myself deep enough inside her.
Like anything less than turning her brain into pleasure-drunk mush is unacceptable.
Clara cries out into the pillows, claws the sheets, and throws herself back into me to meet every single solid thrust. I wrap my arms around her and hold her like that, my chest and her back sliding against each other as I take what belongs to me.
As I give her what is rightly hers.
“I’ll fuck you just like this,” I pant in her ear. Her breasts feel so fucking heavenly in my hands. “I’ll make him watch… Make all of them watch… while I fuck you just like this.”
She shudders again. Arches her hips even more, spreads her legs wider. “Please, please… I need…”
“I know what you fucking need, baby.” My whisper crackles with the possessive growl this woman constantly pulls out of me. “You need me to fuck you. To claim you. To show each of them who fucking owns this pussy. Who makes you scream and come every fucking night because this is the only dick that does it for you.”
The only sounds now coming from her slender throat are a symphony of “uh-huhs” and grunts.
I don’t know how much longer I can draw this out. I’m throbbing to the point of aching, and my balls are screaming for the release they’ve been denied for weeks. “Baby…” I kiss her neck, her shoulder, the side of her brow. Panting just as hard as she is. “Baby… I’m gonna… Where…”
What few functioning brain cells I have left demand to give her the dignity of choosing.
Clara turns her face to mine. Pushes herself up and back so I’ve got nowhere to go but inside her. Pulses her still-spasming inner walls along my shaft.
“I want it,” she whines. “I want you. I want you. I want you in me…”
I seal my lips to hers. Feed her my grunts, my groans, and then my muffled shouts of purest pleasure as everything falls apart and I’m coming… I’m coming… I’m coming…
So is she. I don’t know if it’s the flood of heat now pooling inside her womb, or the fact that I’m marking her in every way possible. Maybe it’s a bit of both, as it is for me. Either way, I feel her bathe my shaft with her own liquid heat—and then she sinks into the pillows and I collapse on top of her.
Breathless.
But never in my entire life have I felt more whole.
Clara doesn’t say a word. I don’t know if I have the ability to speak—not yet, anyway. But one quick glance at her face makes me realize I’ve managed to fuck her until she’s literally passed out.
And honestly, that’s probably not a bad thing.
She needs a dreamless sleep more than anything else now.
I’m in no rush to leave her warmth. Eventually, I do, and it’s such a rush of masculine pride mixed that comes with seeing her naked body marked head to toe, inside and out, marked by me.
Then I see it.
The one scar I won’t be able to kiss away.
Growling, I force myself to my feet to go grab a damp washcloth from the bathroom. Clara is moaning softly in her sleep when I come back and press the washcloth to her thigh, but she doesn’t wake up. I move slowly, wiping tenderly between her legs until there’s nothing left of our passion.
Well, physically, anyway.
When I’m done, I throw the rag aside, sigh, and sink into the overstuffed armchair next to the bed. Towels and rags forgotten, all I can do is watch her sleep and listen to the sound of hersteady breathing. The fact that she doesn’t seem to be dreaming—or at least, not having nightmares—provides some small relief.
I don’t know what to do.
With her.
With us.
