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“You are?”
“Oui. Ma petite fille courageuse. Tu es mon éternité.”
Kicking off the panties that had tangled around my ankles during my punishment, I straddled him, pressing my forehead to his, my heart swelling to the point of pain within my chest. “You are my forever, too. And I am only brave because of you.”
“Nonsense. You were brave before you ever met me, which both thrills me and terrifies me. Promise me you will be more careful.” There was an urgency in his tone, one I knew was borne from the trauma we shared after what happened in Paris.
If he needed me to say the words a million more times, I would happily do so if it brought him an ounce of peace.
“I promise.” Reaching between us, I unzipped his slacks, freeing his cock. I lifted up onto my toes, lowering myself onto him, my soaked pussy stretching to accept him in as I impaled myself.
“Fuck, baby.” Strong hands gripped my bottom, his fingertips digging into my sore, heated flesh. “That’s it, sweetheart. Ride Daddy’s cock like a good girl.”
His words spurred me on, combining with my own need to push me to move faster, driving us both toward our release. With every roll of my hips, he showered me with words of praise, and filthy, depraved encouragement.
My need built inside me, and I wanted to ask, wanted to beg to be allowed to come, but words were beyond me. All I could manage were whimpers, but apparently he understood me just fine.
“Come for Daddy, baby. Come all over Daddy’s cock.”
It was all I needed to go tumbling over the edge, my body shaking as I came, my inner walls clamping down on his cock.
“Don’t you dare stop, little girl, unless you want to be on your knees with Daddy’s cock in your bottom in the next five seconds.”
The harsh, guttural command instinctively had me moving again, even as the orgasm continued to rack my body. Just as it felt as though my legs would not hold me any longer, he swelled inside of me. Fingers tangling in my hair, he brought my lips crashing down on his, so that I swallowed his cry of release when he emptied himself into me.
As our breathing slowed and our heart rates turned to normal, the kiss shifted from desperate need to a tenderness that made my heart ache with the love I felt for him.
“I love you, Adele Porter,” he murmured against my lips.
“And I love you, Cole Porter. My forever.”
It wasn’t a fairytale kind of love. Nor was it the simple life I’d imagined for myself after I left the agency. We’d been brought together by blood and vengeance, two people on opposite sides of right and wrong, each seeking justice in their own way. But in the end, it was love that held us together.
Forever.
The End
