“That won’t be all you’ll be saying, sugar. You ready to feel me slide inside of you, your cunt gripping me?” We had the birth control discussion, the reasoning on why I’m on it and how the first time we actually have sex, there’ll be nothing between us. Not only did I go through the wringer in high school, but then Mother Nature decided to mess with me some more, and I was diagnosed with polycystic ovarian syndrome. Imagine not having a period for months at a time and then going through the worst ever. Thankfully, birth control has calmed it down and has made me almost normal.
“If you’d quit talking about it and start doing it, then we’d both feel it.” I hold myself up on one arm. The other travels beneath my body, Trace watching me the entire time. When my hand finds his cock, squeezing it in the palm of my hand, it’s my turn to watch what I’m doing to him. Trace swallows. The tightening of his throat as his head tips back is an incredible sight, and when I bring his length to my entrance, bathing it in my wetness, that’s when he finally gives me what we both want. His big, powerful hands grip my hips, pulling me onto his cock, making me scramble to get back on both of my elbows.
“You’re going to kill me, I can feel it now, Dove.” Our eyes meet one another’s in the mirror, both of us working together. My body sinking back and his moving me forward, the delicious slide of him only making me need him that much more.
“Not if you don’t kill me first,” I groan, my head sinking down into the bed beneath me, unable to hold on as he takes over, the ebb and flow of feeling like I’m floating already happening, and when he demands, “Hands, sugar. I need them,” I give them to him, freely. He pulls them to my lower back but also maneuvers me so I’m up on my knees, and Trace hasn’t stopped the moving of his hips while I’m trapped at his mercy.
“God, Trace,” I moan. My eyes are on our bodies, my softness to his hardness. His cock tunneling in and out of my center, slick with wetness, my body giving him everything he demands.
“I know, sugar. I can feel it, see it, smell it, and it won’t be long until you take me with you,” he coos into my ear. My pussy clenches down as the aching need to come consumes me. I want Trace to come with me, but with my eyes slowly closing on their own as a shiver takes over my body, I’m not sure I can wait. Of course, that’s when Trace slides his hand to the base of my throat, arching me back for our lips to meet. Our heavy breathing colliding with each other’s, and the tightening around my neck does something unexplainable, tipping me over in the best possible way. I’m completely undone for Trace McCray, and it was without a doubt worth the wait.
“Dove,” he rasps against my mouth as warmth glides inside of me, causing me to come and take Trace with me, keeping us both in a permanent state of bliss, one I hope lasts forever.
Fifteen
Trace
“I think I’m ready to tell you about what I’m working on.” The two of us are lazing in bed, her naked breasts against my chest. It’s taking everything I have not to flip her over and take her again, rutting like a goddamn animal and beating my chest to let every fucking thing in the wild know just who she belongs to.
“Oh yeah?” I question. My fingers are lightly grazing her smooth skin when she sits up, giving me the view of what I just felt.
“Yes, I mean, it’s only fair. I’ve practically lived here this week, carrying on like it’s my own place and invading your space. Plus, I got a good chunk done this week. I was worried that it wouldn’t even work out, but it’s got me really excited.” Dove’s hair is a mess of waves and curls, mussed from my hands delving in it while we made love. Fuck, never thought I’d be this lucky to have a woman like her in my bed, my heart, and in my soul. Thank God, I took the advice from my sister-in-law and got my head screwed on straight, or she wouldn’t be here right now.
“Proud of you, sugar. I don’t care that you’ve invaded this place. It’s not much, but you being here has made it a home,” I admit.
“Trace.” She slides her body closer to me. Her hand comes up to lie on my heart, and Dove’s lips meet mine for a short kiss. A piece of me wishes she’d take it farther, but the other part is hoping she’ll spill the beans. All week, she’s left things lying here and there—notes, pens, planners, a cord to her laptop, drinks next to things, and snack wrappers like nobody’s business. I never said anything, and I damn sure haven’t snooped.