Page 99 of Parting Shot

I slicked myself fast and pressed against his entrance as I lifted my eyes back to his.

“Please,” he begged.

Slowly, I sank down into the welcoming heat of his body.

“You have to belong to me.”

I lifted his legs to my shoulders, and we moved together with the fluidity of years between us instead of merely days. Plunging deep and hard, I felt his muscles clenching around me. I pulled out, only to slam back inside.

“Don’t stop!” he gasped, and I could hear unshed tears in his voice.

“You want promises, but you’re scared to ask for them.” It was a statement.

“Yes,” he cried, and I knew it hurt to answer because it was true.

“Because everybody leaves you.” I uttered his fear.

“Yes.”

“Not anymore.”

“Duncan … you have to want me, need me, have me … you have to stay …” he whined, his voice cracking as I pounded into him, driving to his core. “Please.”

He was so tight and hot, and the way his hands clawed at me to keep me close, keep me buried inside him, all that was sexy. But his eyes were the true revelation. Whatever pride had been there was gone. I could see clearly what I was being offered, and his beautiful body was only part of it.

“Stay with me.”

I had no intention of going anywhere.

“Promise me.”

I shoved in, slid partway out, over and over, like I owned him, and he writhed beneath me, wanting more of my swollen cock and the savage pounding.

“I want the words.”

I was so close to giving up and giving in.

“Baby.”

“I promise,” I said, and we both knew what I meant.

I would stay. I would be patient. I would be strong and swear to keep the secret of what the man looked like when he completely came apart and offered his heart up for the taking.

“Duncan!”

“I won’t leave you.”

And all the worry and fighting flooded out of him, because from that second on, he would stand secure of his place in my heart.

“I want to feel your words.”

Grabbing his hips, I lifted him up and rolled to my back, impaling him as I felt the desire licking up my spine.

“Make a mess all over me,” I ordered him. “I’m yours.”

He rode my cock hard, pressing down, shoving me inside impossibly deep, and I learned right then that the pistoning was not what got him off, but the stretch and the push. His muscles milked my length, the pleasure edged with pain, taking me inside, the intimacy and the dominance—that was what flipped his switch and made him spurt hot and thick over my abdomen.

My orgasm ripped through me as I thrust up into him, loving the feel of the aftershocks that consumed him, his muscles spasming around my cock and his head thrown back on his shoulders in absolute surrender.