Page 114 of You Were Never Not Mine
His deep voice has me melting and I sink into the mattress, welcoming his weight on top of me. His hands roam, sliding my sweatshirt up and off. Tugging at my leggings impatiently, making me giggle. I have no bra on and no panties and he seems pleased to find me bare and naked beneath my clothing, his gaze glowing with reverence.
“You’re fucking stunning.” His large hands cup my breasts, testing their weight, his thumbs teasing my nipples. “And all mine.”
The pride in his voice bleeds into the words and my body grows warm. I am his.
“You’ve always been mine. Since that first day I saw you at Lancaster Prep, when you were scared and awkward andfumbling around, something tugged deep inside of me. Isawyou. Despite how awful I treated you, I knew it, but I was in denial.” He lifts his head, his beautiful blue eyes meeting mine. “You belonged to me.”
I’m breathless at his words. The gleam in his gaze. There’s a part of me that believes he’s just saying all of this to make me feel better. But there’s also that other tiny part buried inside of me that says he’s right.
I knew it too. We belonged to each other.
Ducking his head, he leaves a trail of wet kisses across my chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth while I yank impatiently at the neck of his sweater. Eventually he pulls away, getting rid of the sweater in seconds, and when I feel the press of his warm, hard skin against mine, I moan. Soon his jeans are gone too and we’re a tangle of limbs and hands and fingers. Mouths and tongues and teeth. I can’t get enough of him and he acts the same way, his hands and mouth greedy. His fingers slip between my thighs and stroke me, the wet sounds filling the room.
“Always so ready for me,” he murmurs against my lips. “My greedy little Sin.”
“You make me greedy.” I tilt my head back and arch my hips, sucking in a breath when he trails his mouth down the length of my body.
“I hope the door is fucking locked,” he mutters against my stomach at one point and I can’t help but laugh.
“Probably not.” What would happen if someone walked in at this very moment?
I can’t even worry about it. I’m too caught up.
Within seconds, he slides inside me, filling me up, and I hold him close for a moment, both of us still. The connection is real. Binding. And when he lifts away, I open my eyes to find he’s watching me, his fingers carefully brushing the stray hairs away from my face.
“You need the words?” he asks.
I nod. “I do.”
“You belong to me.” He leans in, his mouth settling on mine. “And no one else.”
So possessive, I think as he begins to move. But he’s not wrong. I am his.
And he’s mine.
Chapter Fifty-One
AUGUST
Women can be such…challenging creatures.
Take Sinclair, for one. I’ve been showing her how I feel for at least a month. Probably longer. And she was clueless. Afraid I was what? Using her? After I invite her to my parents’ home so we can all spend time together? I don’t do that just for fun. Hardly any of my friends have been here. And I sure as shit have never invited another woman here. Only her.
And it will only ever be her.
I suppose as individuals, we all have different love languages. It pains me to even make that mental statement because it sounds silly as fuck. But considering Iris has talked about love languages for years and mine is definitely in the acts of service realm, apparently, Sinclair’s is words of affirmation. She needed the words, so I gave them to her.
As I pounded inside of her only a few hours ago, I told her how much I needed her greedy little pussy. How I owned that cunt and it was mine. She ate it up, creaming all over my cock, coming so hard I wondered if I rendered her unconscious for a moment.
Christ, I sound like I’m bragging even in my thoughts but it’s true. She was a puddle by the time we were through. Wrecked and beautiful. I added to the wreck by scooping up the cum between her legs and smearing it all over her stomach, making a mark.
My mark.
I’m a sick fuck and so is she, but we’re in this together. I feel like she’s my match. I adore her. I do.
I love her.
I’m downstairs in the family room with Iris and Brooks, who’s bouncing his precious little monster on his knee while she coos at her father. My mother and Sinclair aren’t in the room yet, and my father is at the bar, making us all a cocktail.
