Cannon (Carolina Reapers 5)

I didn’t lose his gaze as I reached my hand up, dragging it slowly over my breasts, and lower, loving that flash of flame in his eyes as I found that bundle of nerves his mouth had been on minutes ago.

“Fuck,” he hissed as I touched myself in time to his thrusts, never once hiding the pleasure rippling over my face. Never once breaking our gaze.

“Harder,” I said, if not demanded.

Cannon smirked. “Where are those southern manners?” he teased, his breath coming out ragged.

“Please,” I nearly growled, my back arching off the couch as he sank deeper and deeper inside me.

“There she is,” he said, and obliged me, thrusting with the power his immaculate body was capable of, allowing me to feel that strength with each time he sank into me to the hilt. I kept up with him, teasing myself as he pumped into me again and again.

Each thrust felt like a promise or a plea.

“Cannon,” I moaned, my muscles clenching around the hardness of him.

“Fucking hell, Princess,” he groaned, feeling me tightening around him, just as I felt him holding back, felt the leash he kept on himself.

“I can take it,” I said, and understanding and question flashed in his eyes. “Take me as you need me, Cannon.” My words were breathless, but he caught everyone.

Then he unleashed himself, a fury of hard pumps as he pistoned his hips into me, pressing down on my knee to go deeper, as deep and fast and hard as he possibly could.

Blinding, beautiful pleasure burst from every coiled cell in my body. One orgasm rolling right into the other as I came hard and long. I trembled around him as he found his own release, his thrusts slowing down into a rhythm that eased our heated breaths until he stilled inside me. He shifted between my thighs, dropping one of my legs until he could lay his head against my chest, our bodies slick with sweat.

And as he settled his head in the center of my chest, the words I’d spoken earlier radiated from me. I kept them silent but was certain he could feel them.

Cannon propped his chin up, eyes fixated on mine. “What website was that?”

I laughed. “Cosmo,” I answered.

He smirked and nodded against me. “What other illustrations did you find?”

So I showed him.

And then he obliged to show me.

Two more times.

15

Cannon

“His paws are massive,” Nathan noted as we walked down the path from the woods behind Reaper Village. Persephone had a late evening, and when Nathan had seen me taking off on our evening walk, he was quick to jump in. I was happy for the company, but since we’d just gotten home this afternoon from a three-day trip, I really fucking missed my wife.

“Yeah, he’s going to be a big guy,” I agreed as Cerberus ran out ahead of us in a tangle of legs and tail. He reached the end of the leash and then ran back to us again before repeating it all over again.

“How old is he now?”

“Almost eight weeks.” We’d had him for two weeks now, and life had changed drastically.

“So pretty much a baby,” Nathan laughed.

“You have no fucking idea. He whines all night unless Persephone lets him into bed with us, pees wherever he wants to, chews on whatever stick he can find lying around, to include the hockey ones, and just when you’re about to kill him—he curls up and naps on you.” And I loved every fucking minute of his idiocy.

“Yep. Exactly like a baby. Without the stick chewing, or so I’m told.” We crested a small hill, and our subdivision came into view. “Not that I’m ever going to find out at this rate.”

Fuck. I sucked at relationship shit. Even my own marriage was fake. When the fuck had he decided that I was the emotionally stable one?

“Uh…you guys okay?” Hey, I was trying.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said quickly. Way too quickly. “It’s just seeing all the wedding prep you and Persephone are going through. That’s all. I’m not sure Harper will ever actually want to take that step, or if she’s happy being permanently engaged. Maybe I’m a little jealous.” His speech slowed at the end as if he was just coming to the realization.

“I get that.” I had half a mind to tell him not to be jealous. That he might have a gun-shy fiancée, but at least his relationship was real. Mine would end when Persephone’s mom was no longer with us, which was so fucked up to think about that I tried not to.

“You guys look happy, though, which is way more than I thought possible when you two stumbled out of that hotel suite in Vegas.” He tilted his head and gave me an appraising look. “Love looks good on you, man.”

I almost tripped over my own feet. Sure, I adored my wife. Worshipped her. Enjoyed her company and missed her when we weren’t together, but love? Fuck that nonsense. Love was for healthy hearts capable of giving their all. Was I infatuated with my wife? Hell yes. Did I love her?