I pause, my cock throbbing with the need for release at her words, staring into her eyes. “You what?”
“I love you,” she says evenly, no shame at all. This isn’t some in the throes of passion utterance. This isn’t saying it because it’s expected. She’s saying it because . . . it’s true.
She loves me.
And with those three words, she unlocks what I’ve been unable to say to her. My own truth.
“I love you, too.”
She kisses me in a moment of sweetness, and then I thrust into her again, hard and deep and fast. In seconds, we’re on the edge, and with a cry of ecstasy, she releases around me, her pussy milking me and triggering my own climax.
I come hard enough that my legs shake, and I press Tiffany against the door harder to hold her up as my cream fills her. She’s gripping me, her legs tight around my waist and her arms wrapped around my neck, not wanting to let me go either.
“Yes . . . I want it all,” she groans, shuddering in her own post-orgasmic bliss. I think she means my cum, but what I hear is something much better.
I’m going to give her exactly what she said. She wants it all.
Chapter 22
Tiffany
I’m in love with Daniel Stryker. One hundred percent, head over heels, we’re one soul in two bodies in love.
I mean, I thought I was before. But I’ve learned that what I had before was a girl’s crush. Truth was, I didn’t really know him. I had a crush on the figure I’d created in my own mind.
Now, though? Now I know the man, not just the fantasy. I know the passionate, fiery heart that hammers beneath the calm, cool, collected exterior. I know what it feels like to be left covered in cum and hickies, and I know what it’s like to be filled with every inch of him while his eyes lock on mine and he says, ‘I love you, Tiffany,’ directly into my soul.
I’m in love with the man who stopped mid-makeup-fuck when I screamed that I love him and not only told me the truth with nothing but honesty in his words, but he repeated it, driving the point home with his heart and his cock.
Because Daniel Stryker isn’t going to leave this unclear. This is going to be a hundred percent crystal between us.
That’s who I’m in love with.
And not that I’m an easy sell, but it also helps that he got me coffee again this morning.
He seems to have quickly figured out that it’s the way to my heart.
Coffee and orgasms. Orgasms and coffee.
I wonder if he could make me come while I’m drinking coffee? Hmm. Wait . . . scratch that, it sounds like a sure-fire way to end up with second-degree burns on my tender niblets. So we’ll stick to one, then the other.
Last night, he gave me three—orgasms, not coffees—and the last one was so intense and emotional that I cried. I can’t say I’ve ever done that for coffee, so there’s definitely a hierarchy of the paths to my heart.
But mostly, I think the key is Daniel.
His growled declarations of love don’t hurt either. Back when this was a mere crush, I think I’d vaguely expected him to be sweet and romantic in bed, but his rough passion is infinitely better than any fantasy I created in my head. At the memory, my core clenches, sore from delightful overuse and reminding me that I wish I could have him inside me again right now.
Unfortunately, we can’t afford to take another day off and stay at my apartment. I have work to do, and he has an urgent meeting with Human Resources and Legal before dealing with Mark and Brandon.
Today will be tough for him.
I’ve learned so much about Daniel in the past few weeks, and nothing triggers him more than betrayal. He can take disrespect, he can take teeth-baring aggression, and he can take apathy. He’ll let those go in the end, figuring it’s your loss.
But betrayal?
No way in hell. He wants to understand why members of the Fox family would work against him this way. After what happened in his past, he needs to understand because he’s been cut to the bone by it before.
During a break between rounds last night, we talked while we hydrated and refueled. He told me about Sandra, his ex-wife, and how he came back from shopping with Elle one Saturday to find the house empty, the closet stripped, and a piece of paper taped to the TV.
Daniel,
I’m tired of being second-string in your life. I want to be the center of a life. I want to live an adventure. I can’t do that with you. I’ve packed up my things and I’m moving in with Andi. I’ve already called a lawyer. Let’s keep this as civil as possible. It’s best for the child.