Page 33 of Make You Mine

But it all fades as I flip Amerie onto her side and slam back into her from behind, determined to give her what she’s begging for.

Her cunt is soaked, like heaven to sink deep into. My cock slides in and out of her as my hands grope her naked curves and she writhes beneath me.

She’s come again. I’m sure of it—I can feel it in the way her pussy clenches, fluttering round me and flooding my cock in more juices.

I fuck Amerie until I have can’t hold back another second. The need’s coiled too tight in my gut, the pressure too bloody unbearable. One more thrust and I lose it.

I bury myself deep in her warm cunt and explode inside of her. Spurt after spurt of cum pulses out of me, filling her up. I stay there a moment, breathing her in, heart thudding like mad.

When I finally ease out, I look down and swear under my breath. My cum’s leaking out of her, pearly and thick against the inside of her brown thighs.

It’s the filthiest, most gorgeous fucking sight I’ve ever seen. I’m nearly hard again just looking at it.

Amerie rolls over with a soft, sleepy smile and reaches up to pull me in for another kiss. I brush her curls off her face, taking my time, savoring the sweet taste of her lips.

We don’t move for a while. The night’s ours, and we’re not in any rush to let it go.

She looks like a bloody goddess lying there, tangled in the sheets, dark coils fanned out over the pillows, the covers draped just low enough to show off tits and puffy brown nipples and her tempt me all over again.

I run a thumb across her cheek and kiss her slow. “We ought to do this more often.”

She lets out a soft laugh. “Give me an hour to recover first.”

“You know what I mean, love,” I say, giving her nose a tap. “This. Us. Nights like this. Just you and me.”

“Mmm, I’d like that,” she murmurs, dark eyes twinkling. “Maybe next time we get a hotel. Something with room service.”

“Now that we’ve got Chelsea, that’s easy enough to sort.”

“She might be busy. I don’t like assuming. She’s got her own life.”

“We’ll pay her double, triple if we have to. Won’t be often. Just every now and again… so I can have you all to myself.”

I nuzzle her, pressing my forehead to hers. The room’s quiet and still. Cool air moves over our skin, the moment so calm we’ll be dozing off any second.

Then comes a dull thud from another part of the house. We both go still.

Amerie’s brows pinch as she glances at the door. “Did you hear that?”

“Stay put,” I murmur, slipping out from under the bedsheet. “I’ll have a look. Probably just Willow up for a glass of water again. Remember when she wandered out of bed and started bawling over those shadows on the wall?”

“Emmett’s still sound asleep,” she says, reaching for the baby monitor on the nightstand. “But what if it’s Chelsea? She could’ve woken up and realized we’re home. We should ask if she wants to move to the guest room or maybe if she wants to go home…”

“I’ll see to it.”

I smooth a hand over her head, giving her curls a quick caress, then slide on my joggers. If Chelseadidfancy going home, I’d take her, no question. But a selfish part of me hopes she’s content staying the night. It’s nearly two in the bloody morning, and I’m shattered.

The hall’s even colder than our room, which tells me straight away something’s off with the boiler. Otherwise, the house is pitch-black and quiet enough to make your ears ring.

I head right, toward the kids’ rooms. The nursery’s closer. Just two doors down from ours. Sure enough, our little lad’s out like a light in his crib. I hover for a moment, stroking his curls and listening to the gentle rhythm of his breathing before moving on.

I have to bite back a laugh when I peek into Willow’s room. She’s halfway off the bed, one leg dangling, covers twisted round her waist, drool on her little chin. Still, she looks like a little princess off in some magical kingdom, slaying dragons.

I tuck her back in, kiss her on the brow, and head downstairs.

I don’t bother with the lights, because I know the place well enough to manage without. Even so, the atmosphere’s... off. Not just the cold, though that’s biting enough. There’s something else, some odd weight to the air. The kind of tension you feel right before something goes wrong.

I pass the living room, pausing at the doorway.

---