“I—” I choke, everything inside me winding tight.
“I said give it to me,” he growls, voice unhinged, desperate, raw. “Gimme every fuckin’ drop, Georgia. You’re mine, this pussy’s mine, and I wanna wear your cum like a fuckin’ badge of goddamn honor.”
That does it.
I explode.
Screaming his name so loud I’m sure the walls shake, my body convulses and I shatter, drenching his mouth, his beard, his throat. He moans into me like a man possessed, dragging out every ripple of pleasure, every throb, until I can’t take it anymore.
I collapse onto him, my body limp, boneless, my cheek resting against his slick chest as he shifts us. One of his arms cradles my back, the other strokes my back as I lie on top of him, panting and twitching while my heart pounds wildly against his.
For a long time, I can’t speak. Can’t think. The only thing I can do is float in the afterglow, totally spent.
Eventually, my pulse slows and I shift slightly, just enough to realize the sticky warmth pressed between our stomachs.
I grin into his chest.
Lifting my head slowly, I blink up at him. His cheeks are flushed, his beard glistening, lips parted, pupils blown wide.
“Thought you were waiting till you could fill me,” I rasp, brushing his hair back from his face.
Pink tinges his cheeks even deeper, and he scrubs a hand through his beard, huffing out a breath.
“Tried to hold out,” he mutters, “but how could I when you were screamin’ my name like that?”
“Like what?” I whisper, voice thick with emotion—with everything that just happened.
That was… a lot.
His smile softens, and he tucks a damp curl behind my ear, fingertips brushing my temple with maddening care.
“Like you’re really mine.”
I swallow hard, blinking fast, my heart folding in on itself.
Because I am.
I’m already his.
But I can’t bring myself to say the words yet, so I just smile and lower my head back to his chest, breathing in the wild scent of sweat, sex, andhim—and hope he knows I’m trying. That I’m getting closer.
That I’m already his in all the ways that count.
Chapter Thirty One
More Than a Weekend
The scent of coffee’s what catches my senses first, followed by something sweet and warm. I reach out instinctively, patting the space around me like I’m still in a dream. But it’s empty.
I force my eyes open, the morning light soft and golden through the windows.
Getting up is easier than it’s been in years, maybe longer, and the reason why is notably missing from my side.
Didn’t have a nightmare last night.
Don’t know if it was having Georgia curled up in my arms, her soft breaths grounding me in a way no sedative ever could, or if it was the simple fact that I was bone-deep exhausted after spending the day wrapped around my girl. Either way, I slept like a damn baby.
I shift to a seated position, bare feet hitting the floor. The rug beneath me is warm and soft—so different from the old laminate I used to wake up to, it rattles something deep in my bones.
