Page 129 of All We Need

My voice isn’t my own when he thrusts upward and his hand returns to my throat.Icry out, stars lining my vision.Hisother hand guides my movements, taking over my body and what he needs.

“God,I’llnever.”Thrust.“Tire.”Thrust.“Of.”Thrust.“This.Youwere made for me.Lookhow this gorgeous cunt of yours weeps for every inch of my cock.Whodoes this pussy belong to,Aly?”

“You,”Icry. “It’syours.”

He slows, andIcurse in protest.

Our chests smash together as he bolts upright, voice taunting against my lips. “Workfor that cum,Aly.Rideme hard and work for it.”

I want to lash out.Screamat him for torturing me.ButI’vedrifted into another universe whereIcave to his demands.Onlyever his.

My hands slap against his paint-smeared shoulders.Iriseon my knees then drop down roughly, drawing out a deep moan from our throats.Mybreasts sway every time our thighs slap together.

“Fuck,Aly.Fuck, yes.Keepdoing that.”Hegrunts asIrepeat the motion, fingers flexing along my jaw. “You’resqueezing my cock so tight.”

“I’m c-close,”Istutter as pleasure coils deep.

My movements become frenzied asIchase what we both want.

I let go.

He lets go.

We let go.

Together.

His roar of pleasure mixes with my throaty cries.Mybody shakes as his cock pulses inside of me.

We come down from the abstract high.Theproof of our union is smudged over my flushed skin and embedded deep within my soul.

Inside and out, he’s marked me.Apermanent reminder.

OneI’llnever forget.

“You’re hovering,”Ihiss.

Booth’s lips turn down as he pushes off the back of the sofa.He’snot working today and all morning since we woke up, he’s been lurking around me likeI’ma ticking time bomb.

He’s usually good at not overstepping.Itprobably has something to do with my parents leaving and the factI’vebeen staring atMartin’scontact in my phone for over ten minutes.

“You don’t need to make the call today.Giveyourself somegrace.”Herounds the sofa to join me.Inonly my underwear and one ofBooth’soversizedT-shirts,Ituck my toes under his thigh to warm them.

I take a deep breath through my nose. “IfIdon’t do it today,I’llkeep finding an excuse.Hedeserves an apology.”

His hand works into my hair, fingers scraping against the base of my skull. “Martinwill understand.”

My eyes flutter closed at his lulling touch. “Today,”Iwhisper. “Iwant to do it today.”

“Today it is.”Warmlips brush my cheek and the sofa shifts as he stands.

Cracking an eye open,Iwatch him stroll into the bathroom.Remindersof last night come catapulting back when he grips the back of hisT-shirt and tugs it off in one go.Hisskin is still tinged from the paint; a lot like my breasts and thighs, both of which ache deliciously.

When the door shuts behind him, my eyes drop to my phone again.

I don’t think asIclick theCallbutton next toMartin’sname.

A small part of me hopes he doesn’t answer.I’membarrassed over my behavior at the bakery, but since talking with my mom andBooth, this entire trip would be a waste ifIdidn’t try.

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