Page 135 of Saving Grace

I’m burning up for this man. And he’s taking his fucking time. He nudges my legs wider still. So wide I can barely hold the position. I’m spread open for him.

As if he read my mind, his lip curls into a smile. “You’re mine, Gracie. To fuck. To love. To protect.”

“Do it already,” I growl back.

He thunders into me.

I cry out. Uncontrollable bliss spirals with every thrust, flailing each time he takes it away. He pounds into me hard. Fast. My aching center is alive with electricity. His moves turn choppy, and his hands release me as he pulls out.

“No!” My gasp turns to a growl. “Mackinlay, no.”

I turn back, but his hands work me over. Flipping me to my back, he grips my hips in a bruising hold and pulls my wet center up to his glistening cock. Without a word, he rams it home. I grip the blankets, shoulders digging into the blanketed ground.

He’s wild.

And exactly what I asked him to be.

My breasts bounce, ratcheting up the insane sensations he is giving me. Release barrels toward me. I slam my eyes shut.

One hand disappears from my hip. Two fingers pinch down on my clit. “Eyes on me when you come around my cock.” The words are pure command.

I snap my eyes open and meet his darkened gaze.

His hair is ruffled, his body so tense every line of every muscle shows. His jaw is set. His chest, covered in a sheen of sweat, still heaving.

“Milk my cock, gorgeous girl. Come for me.” His fingers swirl over my clit.

I explode around him, my back arching. Hips bucking. His eyes burn into me.

His head drops backward as the veins in his neck bound. With the first hot stream of his release, he throws his head back down, dark blues trained onto my face. He roars as his cock pulses, sending liquid heat into my core, so deep in me it’s hard to tell where he stops and I begin. Or maybe we’ve melded together. There is not one without the other. Two halves, having finally found each other.

It’s hard to believe my life has changed so much in the last year and a bit. What my time with Mackinlay so far lacked in length has been more than made up by intensity. We lived through it all.

I realize he was right.

Quality is absolutely better than quantity.

But I never want this to end.

Give me forever, Mackinlay Rawlins, because that’s exactly what I am taking.

Epilogue

MACK

FIVE YEARS LATER . . .

Jesus fuckin’ Christ, I’m old. And that ageless wife of mine, who is sound asleep beside me, doesn’t look like she’s weathered a damn day. She’s practically glowing. Never saw the big deal with birthdays, except Ma’s. Not until Grace came along. For me, I’m another year closer to forty.

Yip yip fuckin’ hooray.

I roll over, burying my head into her hair. The smell of it still mesmerizes me and sends me hard as fuck, every single time. I should let her sleep, she’s been so exhausted lately. I untangle myself from the best thing in my life and slip out from the covers.

I pull on my boxers and head for the kitchen.

Coffee time for this old man. I set the coffee maker up and flick the button over. The gurgling and sweet tang of fresh beans being scalded floats through the kitchen. I check my phone, still charging on the counter from last night.

Birthday messages from Ma, Reed, and Huddo. Never miss a beat, my family. Wouldn’t have it any other way. Grace’s phone vibrates beside my own, also charging.

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