Page 108 of The Final Faceoff
“Leif,” she gasps, arching.
I press her hips down, pinning her in place. “Stay still, baby. Let me enjoy you.”
“Patience,” I murmur. “I want you needy for me. Want you shaking.” I slide my fingers through her slick heat, groaning at how fucking wet she is already. “Fuck, baby, look at you. All this just for me?”
She nods, a whimper slipping past her lips.
I smirk. “Of course it is. This pretty little pussy was made for me.”
I slide my tongue through her folds, slow and deliberate, savoring her, making her beg before I take her apart.
And when she comes?
It’s with a broken sob of my name.
I kiss up her body, pressing my lips to her skin, taking my time because she deserves to be cherished. Every inch of her, every gasp, every shiver belongs to me.
But she’s done waiting.
Her nails dig into my shoulders, her breath coming fast, and she pulls me down, dragging me into a desperate kiss. Teeth, tongue, raw need.
“I need you inside me,” she pleads, her voice wrecked, shaking.
I groan against her mouth, already lost.
I push up onto my knees, my hands skimming down her sides, fingers lingering at the curves I already know by heart. Then I sit back, dragging my shirt over my head and tossing it aside before reaching for the waistband of my boxer briefs. Her gaze locks onto my hands, pupils blown wide as I shove them down, letting my cock spring free, thick and aching for her.
She bites her lip, her thighs pressing together like she can’t help it, but I shake my head. “Open up for me, baby,” I murmur, running my palm along the inside of her knee, coaxing her.
She does, spreading wide, giving me exactly what I want.
I groan, gripping myself, running the head of my cock through her slick heat, teasing both of us. Then, slowly—so fucking slowly—I push inside.
The moment I sink into her, we both moan—her fingers clutching at me, my jaw tightening at how fucking perfect she feels around me.
“You feel that?” I murmur, buried deep inside her, holding her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me. “That’s mine. You’re mine.”
She nods, gasping, back arching against the bed.
But that’s not enough.
“I wanna hear it, baby.” My thrusts are slow, deliberate, grinding against that sweet spot, making her lose her mind. “Tell me whose cunt this is.”
She moans, lips parting. “Yours. Fuck—yours, Leif.”
“Good girl,” I growl, thrusting deep, feeling the way she clenches around me. “You take me so fucking well.”
She’s so sensitive, so responsive, her body melting under my praise.
I slide a hand down, cupping the soft swell of her belly, feeling where our daughter grows.
“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” I murmur, my voice rough with reverence. “Full of me. Carrying my baby, because, Hailey, she’s mine. I love her like mine already, baby, because she is yours.”
She gasps, shaking beneath me, so close already.
I tighten my grip on her thigh, hitching it higher around my waist, driving deeper, making her feel every inch of me. Her breath stutters, a soft, broken sound, and I groan, dragging my lips down her throat, feeling her pulse race beneath my mouth.
“You take me so fucking well,” I murmur against her skin, rolling my hips in a slow, torturous rhythm, letting her feel every inch as I sink deep, then pull back just enough to tease. “Like you were made for me.”
