Bombshell

“Yes, please, Jack,” I plead against his mouth. I wriggle to hasten his access. My pussy clenches with need and anticipation. I’ve wanted this for so long.

He moves lower until his mouth is at my pussy. He licks me long and leisurely, deep and hard, drawing me to the edge and pulling me back. It’s a slow, sweet death. I try to endure it. I try to hold back, but the orgasm grips me anyway. I shudder and shake under his firm grip and his marauding tongue that doesn’t let up even as I crest the wave of desire. The orgasm leaves me breathless, but I still want.

“A needy puss, aren’t you?” he says with immense satisfaction. “Good thing I’m here for you.”

He stretches over me until his cock lies heavy against my clit. “Is this what you want, Kate? Do you want a good fucking?”

I squirm helplessly under him, trying to get him to penetrate me, but he uses his strength to keep me from gaining access to his hard cock. He rubs the length against me, using my own arousal as lubrication.

“Yes,” I gasp. “Yes, I want you.”

“How much?” he demands. “Are you mine?”

“Please, Jack. Please,” I whine and grind against him.

He ignores my pleading and continues his cock tease, pressing me hard into the mattress. “Are you mine, Kate?”

“God, yes. I’ve never been anyone but yours.”

It’s all he needs to hear. He drives into me with one powerful thrust. I scream when his broad head breaches my opening. He’s so big.

“Shh, it’ll be fine, baby. You’re tight is all. Your body will get used to me. Remember?”

I don’t, but my body does. It adjusts to his girth. He takes it slow at first, dragging the head of his cock against what seems like every single nerve ending inside of my sex.

“We’re not fucking,” he says. “Fucking is what you do when you don’t mean it. This is lovemaking, baby. Because you love me and I love you. Don’t deny it. No matter what happened, I found my way to you because I belong to you. There will never be anything”—he thrusts, his cock going deeper than I thought possible—“anything that keeps us apart. Not people”—he withdraws and drives in again until he’s fully seated—“not illnesses. Nothing.” He reaches around to circle my clit, pinching it until I cry out in drunk pleasure. “You got that?”

I don’t answer because I can’t. I’m too caught up in the second orgasm that is barreling its way down my spine. This time he doesn’t need an answer. He understands because we’re connected somehow. In some deep, beautiful way, we’re one. I come with a shout, crying out my own love for this man.

He pistons into me, his hips working hard as he chases his own climax. His movements get rougher and less rhythmic when the orgasm overtakes him. His hot seed jets inside until he fills me up. Shaken, he falls to the mattress, throwing himself to the side at the last minute to avoid crushing my body with his.

“Fuck. No condom,” he groans. “I’m sorry.”

“Good thing I’m on the pill. I started it last month. It helps me stay regular,” I inform him. “Besides, I should’ve told you to use a condom.”

“But you didn’t,” he notes. He sounds pleased.

“Nope.” I was too caught up in the moment.

He pulls me close and flips a blanket over us.

“I’m sorry for something else,” he says. His words send small puffs of air across the top of my head.

“For what?” I swirl my finger in a loop around his right nipple. His heart beats erratically under my ear.

“For not remembering.”

“But you did remember. You said that you felt empty and that your heart hurt so bad that you wondered if you might die.”

“Yes. Because I missed you. No, missing is a weak word. Longed?” He tests out the word. “Yeah, I longed for you. I love you, Kate Chandler,” he whispers into the side of my head. “My world was empty for the last ten months. Thank you for saving me.”

I bury my face into his throat. Some of the moisture on my face isn’t from sweat. “I love you, too, Jack. I never stopped.”

“Thank God.”

Chapter Six

One day becomes five. Five days become two weeks. An entire month later and I’m still waking up in the morning to Jack puttering around the kitchen with Anna plastered to his side. After only a couple of days, he mastered executing his tasks one-handed, which is both impressive and necessary. Anna hasn’t been able to separate herself from her new friend. Jack carries her over to me with a plate full of freshly made waffles.

“Do you have a lot of work to do this morning?” he asks, setting a plate of the golden-brown squares in front of me.