Page 34 of Curveball (Tennessee Terrors #9)

So many options here. I press her legs apart with my knees, and she willingly widens them.

Reach one long digit between the plump folds of her pussy and swipe.

My finger comes back glistening with her wetness, and I suck it into my mouth.

Palmer whimpers and squirms, her jostling breasts drawing my attention.

The mattress gives when I lean over her, bracing my arms on either side of her shoulders to draw one pretty tit into my mouth, teasing her nipple with my tongue and sucking hard. She bucks her chest into me as if demanding more.

I have so much more to share with her.

“You know what else is max?” I tease, though there’s not a damn thing funny about what I’m about to do to her. With her.

“For God’s sake, say it’s your staying power.”

Grinning, I yank her leg up by the knee and slap her sweet ass.

She yelps, then surges up to kiss my lips, her mouth wide open and hungry, her tongue searching out mine, clutching herself to me with her hands clasping my shoulders.

I push her so we’re both lying flat, our mouths fused as I shift her upward, toward the mound of pillows that some law of nature insists must be piled on a woman’s bed.

“Jesus, woman, tell me you have condoms in here,” I mutter into her mouth.

Her pause is slight, but I notice it, and if I need to stop kissing her to retrieve my wallet from my pants, my dick won’t be the only one weeping.

“No need,” she finally gasps out. “Pill. Clean. Damn it, Max, don’t stop!”

“Thank Christ,” I exclaim, and add a few muttered words about being clean and getting tested regularly, while she clamps her hands around the corded muscles of my forearms, then reaches below my waistline and strokes the length of my cock.

“This, Max. Now,” she demands in a rough voice, as if, yeah, this foreplay shit is great and all, but let’s get to the main attraction.

I’m totally on board.

I raise her hands over her head and trap them by the wrists in one of mine, then choose a long firm bolster from her selection.

“Lift your hips, baby,” I croon in a low voice, and she does. One-handed, I slide the pillow beneath her, raising her sweet pussy. Her fat, shimmering clit is peeking out, needy and ready for action, and I give it a tweak.

Palmer squeaks out a noise somewhere between a yelp and a moan.

She pulls her hands from my loosened grip and uses one fist to tighten around my dick.

Gotta be honest, he’s a happy fucker right now and doesn’t mind the attention.

Her other hand stretches to my chest, tracing my areolas and pinching a nipple. A shock of awareness arcs to my dick.

“Fuck, baby, my cock loved that. Now, what do you like, tummy or back?” Sex done right is always good, but I want this to be better than that for her.

Better than merely satisfying. I want it to be what she likes best, desires most, dreams about.

What makes her feel sexy and powerful. This is her show.

“Tummy, Max. I want it from behind.”

I’ve died and gone to heaven.

I help her maneuver to her belly, propping her hips high with the pillow, her ass there, practically in my face, tempting me.

Torturing me. Kneeling behind her, I rub my hand over one soft cheek, then the other.

Her mass of curls hides her beautiful face from me, so I collect it at her scalp in one fist and tug tight while I stroke my length with the other and then notch the head of my dick at her entrance.

“Ready, baby?”

“Damn it, now.”

I give my girl what she wants, and slide home, filling her with my length. She gives me a scream that makes my ego smirk.

I stroke in and out of her, alternating my speed, the depth, slamming in and dragging my tip along her clit on the way out. Reaching under her to rub her breasts and pinch her nipples.

Palmer alternates between growling and huffing out the sweetest sounds. It doesn’t take long before her legs are quaking and her breathing quickens.

Do that.

Don’t stop.

Do it again.

She talks non-stop.

My Palmer Girl is bossy in the bedroom.

I love every dominant moment of it.

I’m heaving breaths, thrusting hard and sucking in air scented with our arousal. A film of perspiration dampens my skin. And then . . .

“Max . . .”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Gonna come, Max. God, I gotta . . .”

I drive into her and give her a slap on the rounded flesh of her ass that turns her skin a nice shade of pink.

Then, I lay over her as I continue to plunge in and out, my chest to her back, skin to skin, and reach between her thighs to help her find her release.

Her clit is engorged and juicy, wetness from her pussy flooding her channel and seeping out.

I rub tight circles over her sensitive bud and she bucks, screams, curses.

I change my movements to wider circles, and then long, firm strokes, and Palmer comes undone.

She’s still rocking back against me, but I’ve been holding off for a minute. In no time, I’m pulling out and pulsing, coating her back with thick streams of cum as a satisfied growl rips from my throat.

Before I can hop up to get a washcloth from the bathroom, she’s rolled over to her back and kicked the bolster off the bed.

Her arms reach for me and I slide into them, then smoothly pull her naked body into the length of me, holding her close and soothing her until her breathing is deep and even and she’s fallen asleep.

I set a timer on my smartwatch and let myself unwind, nestled with my girl. We no longer have a physical connection, me inside of her, but this peace—this trust—that’s settled in my soul, is every bit as precious.

I tighten my arms around her and hold off a yawn.

My girl has made a good life for herself and her son and that took bravery, and courage.

But she went through a shit ton of grief to get what she wants.

My last thought before I doze is that this is where I want to be—here, to support her, to provide whatever makes her happy—for however long she’ll let me.