Page 75 of Falling Into Forever
“I never stopped loving you,” I admit, and it’s still the most liberating confession I’ve ever made. Her body is glistening and primed for another orgasm already. “I still love you. That will never change.”
My words are her undoing. I halt my movements and take in every inch of her body. Her eyes pinch closed, and her mouth falls open, emitting the most delicious sounds I want to swallow. The flush of her skin sparks more flames of desire.
“How much of your body will blush for me?” I ask, staring at her thighs that convulse around my body.
Leaning down, I press my lips to hers in a gentle kiss. When I pull back, my words ghost over her lips. “I love you, my sweet and sassy Saylor girl.” Her heart shows in her expression because tonight she’s not guarded, and it takes my breath away.
Her body pulses with the aftershocks of her orgasm, but I’m not ready for this moment to end, so I press her knees to her shoulders and enter her with one long, torturously slow thrust.
“You’re so”—a grunt escapes as her warmth wraps around me—“tight,” I say through clenched teeth. Her inner walls flex and squeeze, trying to keep me out, and I’m forced to make smaller, more shallow thrusts. “Let me in, Sayls. Please, for the love of God, let me in.”
Let me into your body, your life, your heart.
My words send a rush of warmth to her opening. Thank fuck. Her natural lubrication covers my cock as I seek entrance to the most private piece of her. Then, finally, her walls quake around me before finally relaxing enough for me to get the last inch inside of her.
When I’m seated fully in her warmth, my pelvis rubs against her clit, and I give her a second to acclimate to my size, but I never release her gaze from mine.
Together, like this, as one, I feel whole for the first time since our lives spiraled so far out of our control.
“God,” she says, arching her back as much as she can with me pressing her knees into her chest. Her neck strains, and her rapid heartbeat fluttering against delicate flesh calls to me. I’m completely entranced. “I—I forgot how long and, fuck,” she groans again, “how thick you are.”
Irritation and pride fight for dominance in my mind. I am truly a possessive Neanderthal when it comes to her.
I push forward with one rough, shallow upward thrust, and she narrows her eyes at me.
“I never forgot how tightyouare, Saylor. Or how you choked my cock when I went as deep as possible. Or how you’d mewl when I’d grind against you and push a little deeper.”
I reach around her and squeeze her ass until I reach her slit, then run a finger over her, spreading her arousal back to the puckered skin I was searching for.
“And I never forgot how you scream and writhe when I slip past this ring of muscle.” I pause, searching her face for approval, and I get it when she presses back against my finger. When it slips inside her ass, I adjust my hips and pummel into her with years of pent-up frustration and love that had no outlet. She’s the only one who could ever tame the beast within, but now we’ve set it free.
“Dante.” Her head thrashes wildly on the pillows and her fingers land on my chest with a slap. One hand marks my skin with her nails while the other twists and pinches my right nipple.
She does remember.
My thrusts are uneven and primal. I piston into her like I’m trying to get deep enough that she’ll never be able to leave me again.
“You. Are. Mine,” I say, slamming home with each word. “Say it.”
Glassy, lust-filled eyes the color of a summer sky give a slow blink.
“Say it, Saylor. Goddamn it. Say it.” I sound out of control, but she does that to me. She can break me, she can ruin my control, and she can make me whole.
“Yes,” she cries out loud enough to shake the roof. “I’m yours. I’m yours. I’m yours.” She sobs as violent tremors course through her body. It’s a confession of her own that will terrify her as much as it will set her free. But I’m too lost in the moment to soothe her fears—that’ll come later. The rhythmic pulsing of her pussy milks my dick until I explode.
I collapse, my body sheltering hers, and we slowly come down from the sex-induced high. Our breathing evens out and syncs.
It’s the calm in the middle of a storm headed straight for us. We may not be as strong as we once were yet, but our connection, the way we fit together, is that once-in-a-lifetime love she writes about. We will weather whatever comes our way. Of that, I’m sure.
Eventually, as the perspiration dries to our skin and a chill creeps in, I ease out of her. Despite my dick being hard again, her head lulls drowsily, and my body is fighting a decade-long exhaustion.
“Stay here,” I murmur. “I’ll get a cloth to clean—oh, shit. Saylor…”
“I felt it. It’s okay, it’s not your fault. I didn’t think about a condom either.”
“That’s not your job.” Panic falls through my body like dominoes. What the hell is wrong with me?
She scowls and presses on my chest. “What century are you living in, Dante?” My body tenses at my name. I guess mio amato will take some time to become a habit again. “Women are as responsible for safe sex as men. I’m on the pill, and I have condoms, I…”
