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Without another word, he grabs my legs and swings us onto the couch, so I’m lying on it and him on top of me. He works himself in long strokes, while holding me close. His throbbing cock sets off another orgasm, and I grip his back with my nails. Just need something to hold on to, until finally, he pounds into me and comes. His grunts come from deep inside his chest and he shudders in me, before collapsing.
When I run my fingers through his hair, they come out wet from his sweat, and I’m thrilled to know I’ll smell like him. I want everything he said. This. Every day. All the time. I never want it to end. After feeling so terrified for so long, I want the man who makes me feel safe. Who makes me come like a nympho. Who looks at me with awe.
I want Anderson West to be mine.
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Chapter 49
JUNE
When I bought the oversized, extra deep couch, I told myself it was a waste of money. That it would only inspire me to lounge, and I didn’t need any encouragement on that. But it was too comfortable not to buy it.
Today, I am so fucking glad I went with that instinct.
Anderson and I haven’t left the couch all day, other than for bathroom breaks and snacks. We’ve found ourselves in a spooning position again, with him behind me and a blanket draped over our naked bodies. I love having him like this, even when we argue over Netflix.
“Okay, I know you’re not down for screaming horror, but what about something more subdued? A master class in building tension and suspense?”
“What, like a thriller or a mystery or something?”
“I was thinking Silence of the Lambs.”
He laughs. “Hmm…”
“It’s barely horror, but fine. Aliens?”
More laughs out of him. “That is definitely horror.”
“It’s really more of a sci-fi, but sure.” I think for a moment. “How about Predator?”
He hesitates.
“Oh please! It’s definitely sci-fi.”
“Okay. No horror, no sci-fi, nothing with cannibalism. Try again.”
I huff, thinking. “How about Parasite?”
“The Korean film?”
“Yeah. Have you seen it?”
“No.”
I grin. “We should watch that.”
“No body horror either. I should have put that on the list.”
I giggle at him. “It’s not an actual parasite. It’s a metaphorical parasite situation.”
“Oh. Okay, yeah. Let’s watch it.”
But before I can turn it on, someone knocks at the door. Don’t be Callie, don’t be Callie?—
“That’ll be the pizzas I ordered,” he says as he climbs over me and yanks his jeans up.
“When did you order pizza? Without asking me what I want?”
