Page 70 of Operator

“Well, you don’t, but I will. I don’t mind doing all the work.”

Giggling, she strips out of her clothes, and I get distracted watching her before I remember to do the same. When we’re both naked, she doesn’t hesitate to climb on top before I can position myself between her legs. “Maybe I want to do the work,” she says.

I stretch out underneath her and cross my arms under my head. I fucking love it when she gets bossy. In fact, before she reaches for the lube and toy I’ve grown so fond of, I’m already hard and waiting for her. She murmurs her approval and slicks the lubrication over my cock. In one movement, she impales herself on my length, throwing her head back and moaning as she takes me deep.

“Do you like this?” she asks as she puts her hands on my abdomen and rocks her hips.

“Depends,” I say and reach for her toy. Her eyes fly open when she hears it buzz to life. They go half-lidded when I position it between her legs in such a way that she can move and it’ll stay there pressed against her clit. “Do you like it?”

“Mmhmm,” she purrs as she works herself over me. I reach up to roll her nipples between my fingers and her hips stutter in their rhythm. “Callum, yes.”

“You like that, too?”

“Yes,” she moans.

Her hips move faster, chasing the orgasm, but it’s elusive. I rub a hand on her back and encourage her to lay across my chest. Breathing heavily, she doesn’t fight me, and when I thrust up into her, her moans fill my ears. This way, all she has to focus on is what feels good. My cock inside her, the toy pressed tight to her clit, and the fingers I reach around to press into her sweet little hole. She shudders over me.

“You like that most,” I whisper in her ear.

“Cal,” she breathes, and I take that to mean yes.

I press a finger inside, and she shatters, coming so hard her pussy wrings my own orgasm from me without warning.

When she straightens, she’s wiping tears from her eyes. “Are youcrying?” I ask incredulously. Not gonna lie, maybe I even feel a bit proud.

“Shut up,” she says and rolls to the side.

“Dirty little angel,” I whisper.

“Whatever.” Fuck, I love that sass.

“Mydirty little angel.”

This time, she lets me take her into my arms and that’s how she falls asleep. At least for the next few hours. I’m content to hold her because maybe a part of me is afraid I’ll wake up and find myself alone in the desert with her far away and belonging to someone else. But when I do wake up to her going to the nursery in a robe to soothe the baby, I’m right where I’m supposed to be.

And tomorrow, the ring in my jeans pocket on the floor is going to be on her finger.

Right where it’ll stay for the next fifty or sixty years.