I eat her like a starved man. I’m not happy with the first or second orgasm. I need a third and I’m going to get it before I let my dick find its home inside her. It doesn't take me long to get her there.
I lay her down on the carpet. Her eyes can barely stay open now, but I know when I start to push inside of her she’ll be back with me. The sight of her so satisfied almost has me cumming before I can push inside of her. But I fight it off. I only want to release inside of her.
I don’t know what I did to deserve this woman, but I’ll spend the rest of my life worshiping her. Maybe I’m a bastard for the need I have for her. But can anyone blame me? She’s perfect. She can say all she wants about how I saved her that day, but I know the truth.
She was my savior. My reason for living. I will spend my life making sure she never regrets taking a chance on me, fighting for what we could have.
“I love you so damn much, baby,” I tell her as I push inside of her tightness and kiss her deeply. I know I’ll never let her go. Someone took her from me before and tried to lock me away from her, but no one can ever lock up the love I have for her. No one better even fucking try.
* * *
Be Mine… Or Else
Dove Rosetta is crushing hard on the hot guy she ran in to at the coffee shop. His big build, sharp suits and dark eyes have her flustered, and as luck would have it, they meet by chance every day. She might be innocent, but her thoughts aren’t, and she’s ready for him to make a move.
Beau Heart has been watching her for weeks. It’s no accident that he sees Dove every day and he’s tired of playing it cool. He’s done with gentle and patient. He’s grumpy, and now it’s time for dirty and fast.
Warning: This Valentine’s story is filled with alpha possessiveness and rough need. Good things come to those who wait, but great things come to those who claim. Get ready!
For Sue Schwegman,
You’re our favorite Book Snob.
"Ouch!" I squeak as I poke myself in the eye. I drop the contact and let out a deep sigh.
"What are you doing?"
I glance over at Tia with my one good eye. She’s leaning against the bathroom door frame, looking at me with curiosity. Her jet-black hair is in messy tangles, and she’s still in her pajamas.
"Trying to put these stupid contacts in," I tell her and grunt. Turning around, I blink a few times and look into the sink for the contact I dropped. I don’t see it anywhere and frustration gnaws at me.
"Is this about Mr. Venti?" she asks.
My cheeks flame at the thought of him. I’d given him the nickname before I found out who he was. Every time I saw him he was ordering a venti coffee, so it stuck. His real name is Beau, which sounds like a Nicholas Sparks hero, and he’s got the face to match.
I meet her eyes in the mirror. She is studying me with a smile on her face. Normally she’s got on heavy eye makeup with dark lipstick to match her dark eyes. She’s covered in tattoos, but somehow she still looks like the girl next door. She’s got a baby face that sees everything, including right through me.
Clearing my throat, I try to focus on the task at hand and ignore the fact that Tia might be able to read my mind. I've had these contacts for months, but every time I try to use them I give up. I can't ever get them in and once I do they drive me crazy.
She’s right though. He is the reason. I’m trying not to look so young because I know Beau has to be at least ten years older than me.
"Dove." Tia says my name softly. "If he's been flirting with you already you don't need to change anything."
I bite my lip. I thought he'd been flirting with me. It's been going on for weeks but he never takes it any further. He hasn’t asked me on a date or even for my phone number. Maybe I’m reading it wrong and he’s just being nice. I'm terrible at flirting and knowing when a guy likes me.
It started off with smiles that turned into hellos. Soon we were small-talking and introducing ourselves to one another. Then last week he reached out and brushed my hair back away from my eyes, like it was the most natural thing on the planet. My heart stopped for a moment and I swear I can still feel the light brush of his fingers on my skin even a week later.