Page 16 of Stuffing My Obsession
I spank her again, lighter this time, and she moans, her back arching. My cock twitches painfully at the sound.
“Christ, you’re perfect,” I mutter, dragging the tip of my cock through her slick folds. She whimpers, pushing back against me.
“You want it?” I demand, voice rough.
“Yes,” she gasps. “Please, Myles.”
That’s all I need. With one hard thrust, I push inside her, stretching her tight heat around me. She cries out, clinging to the sheets, and I grip her hips to keep from exploding instantly.
“You’re perfect,” I snarl, grinding deeper. “Every inch of you. Like you were made just for me.”
Her answering moan is pure surrender, and I fuck her harder, deeper, each thrust pulling more of those sweet cries from her throat. Her body bows, her nails scraping the sheets. I yank her hair, pulling gently until she’s got no choice but to hold my gaze.
“Do you like it, baby?” I ask, thrusting harder.
“Y-yes,” she whispers broken. “Please…”
The sight of her looking back at me in this position, wrecked and begging, nearly undoes me. Her hair’s a wild mess around her face, her lips parted, eyes glossy with tears and lust. My hands tighten on her hips, fingers digging into her soft flesh as I push deeper, harder, filling her completely.
“You’re so good for me,” I growl, my voice dark and rough in the quiet room. “Taking me so well…so tight.”
She moans, pressing her forehead to the sheets, her hips rolling back to meet every thrust. Her body’s trembling, but not from fear…she’s moving with me, opening for me, trusting me.
I slide my hand between her thighs, find her clit and rub slow circles as I drive into her. She gasps, arching under me, a cry spilling from her throat.
“Myles…”
The sound of my name like that, pleading, broken, snaps something in me. I bend over her, my chest pressed to her back, my mouth at her ear. “Come for me, Paris. Right now. Show me who you belong to.”
Her whole body tightens, clenching around me. “I—I—”
“Do it,” I snarl, circling her clit harder. “Now.”
She shatters. Her scream is muffled against the sheets as she convulses, her walls squeezing me like a fist. The feel of her coming around me, the heat, the tremors…it rips my control to pieces.
I thrust twice more, hard and deep, and then I’m gone, spilling into her with a guttural groan, my head falling to her shoulder. I let my hands roam her body, rubbing her perfectly round ass, her back, her hips, holding her through the aftershocks.
For a long time we stay like that, tangled and gasping. I press my forehead to the back of her neck, kissing the damp skin there, breathing her in. She smells like sweat and soap and sex, like something I could drown in.
Like mine.
Chapter Seven
Paris
The drive to Asheville took longer than it should have, because I took my sweet time behind the wheel just to extend our time alone. Like yesterday, Myles insisted on driving, but this time I stood my ground. In the end, he had no choice but to relent. By the time we pull into the long gravel driveway of my family home, the sun is beginning to set.
As the house comes into view, I feel my stomach twist into knots. Not from hunger, but nerves. No matter how much time passes, there’s something about coming home that makes me feel like I’m seventeen again. The truck groans to a stop, and before I can even take the keys out of the ignition, the front door flies open.
“Paris!”
Mom rushes out, arms flung wide. Her hair’s shorter than the last time I saw her, a soft brown bob streaked with silver, and her apron is dusted with flour like she’s been baking all day. She meets me halfway, pulling me into one of those hugs that squeeze the air right out of me.
“Hi, Mom,” I mumble against her shoulder, trying not to get emotional.
She pulls back, holding me at arm’s length, her eyes bright and wet. “You’re still driving this old thing?” she teases, patting the hood of the truck.
I force a laugh. “She gets me where I need to go.”
