Page 116 of Returned Mail

“George,” I gasp. “I'm—I'm gonna come. Fuck⁠—”

“Give it to me,” he says immediately. “Don't hold back, sweetheart. Come all over me. I want to feel you.”

His hand slides down and his fingers find my clit, circling it hard, fast, rough, and I completely shatter. The orgasm tears through me. I scream his name so loud it echoes, my body convulsing around him. He holds me through it, still thrusting, drawing it out until I'm shaking uncontrollably.

“That's it, Mia,” he murmurs.

When I finally come down, completely destroyed, my arms give out, and I collapse onto the couch, utterly boneless and thoroughly fucked. But George doesn't stop. He follows me down, his weight settling on top of me.

The pace changes to something slower, but also deeper.

His mouth finds my shoulder, and he kisses it softly, tenderly, then moves to my neck. The contrast between this gentleness and the savagery from moments ago makes something crack open in my chest.

“Mia,” he breathes against my skin. “I'm about to come. I'm so fucking close.”

“George, please don’t stop,” I whisper. “Please, I want all of it.”

He groans, hips stuttering. “Are you sure? I don’t want to force you into anything you don’t want just because it feels good right now. I⁠—”

“George. Yes, I want it. I want you. I want all of you inside me, please.” He groans, and his hips snap forward three more times, and then he stills completely, buried deep inside me. I feel him pulse inside me, feel the warmth as he fills me.

“Fuck, Mia,” he gasps against my shoulder. He collapses carefully, his forehead resting between my shoulder blades, his breathing ragged. For a long moment, neither of us moves. We just lay there, connected, bonded.

Eventually, he pulls out slowly, and I whimper at the loss, at the sudden emptiness.

“Stay there,” he says softly. I hear him moving around, then the sound of water running. He returns with a warm, wet towel. His touch is gentle now. Careful.

He cleans me up with such tenderness that tears prick my eyes. “You okay?” he asks quietly. I nod, not trusting my voice. He helps me sit up, then hands me his t-shirt. I put it on, and he kisses my forehead.

“You want some tea?” he offers.

I laugh. “You just fucked me senseless and now you're offering me tea?”

He grins. “What can I say? I'm a gentleman.”

“You're something, that’s for sure,” I say, smiling.

He pulls me close, and I curl into his side. “Stay here with me.” He says again. Not a question this time, a statement, a promise.

“I'm not going anywhere,” I whisper.

And I mean it.

There’s no way in hell I’m leaving this man.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Mia

I don’t know at what point of the day we ended up having lunch in bed, but here we are.

After a very eventful morning, we had breakfast, we showered together for the first time, and well, we did more than just shower.

He sets the tray on the bed. The edge of the metal is warm against my thigh. He smells like heat and soap and something that has rapidly become my favorite scent on earth. It feels domestic, and easy. Way too easy.

Dangerously easy.

He sits beside me on the bed, close enough that the mattress dips and my whole body tilts toward him. His knee brushes mine. My breath stutters a little. We eat together, like this is our normal. And I’m enjoying every second of it. There’s hunger in his eyes.