Page 154 of The Woman Left Behind

Oh my God!

I was going to kill him.

I was about to tell him that when he went down on me again.

Oh yes, this was good. So good. Soooooooo sooooo good.

He stopped again.

“Harry!” I snapped.

But this time, he left the bed, and I knew by the look on his face playtime was over for Harry (and I already knew it was way over for me).

I knew it more when he undid his uniform trousers and pulled them down with his boxer briefs.

And I got a full view of the entirety of what made Handsome Harry Moran, Handsome Harry Moran.

His cock wasn’t too long, it wasn’t too thick.

It was just right.

And those thighs?

I shivered.

He stepped free of his trousers and hesitated.

I didn’t understand why, then I did.

Knowing his history, I’d planned for this, thinking with the way he wanted to take care of me (no matter what scrumptiousness happened on my kitchen table the day before), he might not have planned, so he might not be prepared.

I reached under the pillow, pulled the line of condoms out, sat up and gave it to him.

“Christ, baby,” he said, his voice deep, guttural, so much so, it was like an exquisite touch.

I didn’t have to encourage him to get a move on. He tore one of the condoms off the strip, and like he’d done it just yesterday, the day before, and every day of his life, he ripped it open and slid it on.

Seriously, how could I almost orgasm watching a man roll on a condom?

I didn’t know, I just knew I almost did watching Harry handle his cock.

Then I wasn’t thinking about that, or anything, because Harry was joining me in bed, parting my legs, lifting them high, settling between them on top of me.

He kissed me, light and sweet, before he raised his head.

I could feel him hard between my legs, and I was wondering why he didn’t get on with it like I very much needed him to, when he whispered, “Ready?”

I looked at him, and it was only then I could feel him straining to stay in control.

He was ready, more than ready, but he was holding to be sure I was.

And I knew then what I’d pretty much known since he held my hair back while I threw up and then sat with me in my little bathroom.

I would love this man until my dying breath.

“Ready,” I whispered back.

He put his hand between us, took hold of himself, and I felt the head of his cock glide through my wet. He caught, and his eyes holding mine, slowly, so impeccably slowly, he slid in, and in, until he was seated fully, filling me.

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