“Are you ready for your bedtime story?”
Her eyes soften. “Is it a long one?” she asks in a teasing tone.
“Oh, it’s long.”
“We’ll see.”
I push inside her inch by slow, tortuous inch. Her inner walls are warm, wet and perfect. When I bottom out, she lets out the sexiest purr I’ve ever heard. I hold still, letting her adjust, our foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air.
She signals that she’s ready by tipping her nose up and sliding her lips over my jaw and then moves to my mouth. It’s slow and methodical, making sure to catalog her every sound and movement.
Our hips start moving in harmony. My cock aches as her nails drag over my ass giving me the go ahead. She’s ready.
“Dripping wet for me, gorgeous. So warm and tight,” I say as I move down to lick her. “I have to have another taste.”
And when I do, she pulls me back up. “Kiss me.”
Our mouths tangle as I push in with long deep strokes,dragging pleasure from both of us. She wraps her legs around my waist, heels digging into my back, keeping me close.
Every thrust builds tension.
Skin slapping softly.
Nails raking down my shoulders.
I’ve never thought so much during sex. This is different. I could get used to doing this every damn day—with her.
“Parker.” Her voice, half broken.
I groan, “Hearing my name fall from your lips will last me a lifetime.”
Her inner walls tighten around me. The flutter of her muscles tells me she’s teetering on the edge.
“Come for me, baby,” I growl against her ear, angling my hips just right.
I’m hanging on by a thread, thrust after thrust, when a cry shatters from her core.
Not a yes.
Not my name.
Not God’s.
Just a sharp cry caught somewhere between pleasure and disbelief.
Her head is thrown back, lips parted, eyes glassy and my cock is pulsing so hard it sends me over the edge. I bury myself deep inside her and feel my orgasm ripping through my soul, hips stuttering against hers.
I stay on top of her, tangled and trembling, hearts hammering in sync—kissing her tenderly, tasting salt and satisfaction.
Somewhere along the way, she stopped feeling temporary.
And that realization lands hard enough to steal the air from my lungs.
When the kiss ends, she glides her finger over my lip. “You’re a good storyteller,” she says, smiling and glowing with a sheen of sweat on her forehead.
“Just good.” I lift an inquisitive brow.
“A little more practice wouldn’t hurt.”