Page 39 of Fixing to be Mine (Valentine Texas #5)

“Keep watching, darlin’,” I say as I continue, not giving her a second to recover.

Her hands are gripping the sheets so tight that her knuckles are white. Her legs are shaking so much that she can barely keep herself upright. I’m not done with her yet—not even close. We’re not stopping until she knows how much she means to me.

Her body shatters with the force of her first orgasm. Her cries of pleasure echo through the room.

I stand up, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, and look at her in the mirror. She’s a fucking mess—her hair tangled, her skin flushed, her pussy dripping wet.

She looks at me with half-lidded eyes, a lazy smile spreading across her face.

“You make me feel so good,” she whispers.

“Keep your focus,” I tell her as I unzip my jeans, freeing my cock. I’m hard and too fucking desperate for her as I line myself up with her dripping entrance.

I slam into her in one brutal thrust. Her body jerking forward, and I hold her still, my hand wrapping around her throat as I start to fuck her hard and deep.

“Look at you, being so perfect for me,” I mutter, tightening my grip on her neck just enough to make her gasp. “Look at how fucking wrecked I am for you.”

Her eyes are wild in the mirror, her lips swollen from biting them, her tits bouncing with every thrust. I can feel the way her pussy grips me, tight and wet, and it drives me fucking insane.

I pound into her harder, my balls slapping against her ass, the sound ricochets off the walls of this quiet room.

She’s moaning nonstop now, little whimpers and cries that only make me fuck her harder.

“You’re mine, Stormy,” I growl, my voice rough with possession. “I don’t give a fuck if you leave here. Every fucking inch of you belongs to me, no matter how far away you are.”

Her hand reaches back, clawing at my thigh, and I know she’s close again. I can feel her pussy clenching around me. I lean over her, my chest pressing against her back, and I bite down on her shoulder as I fuck her even harder. Her body shaking as she explodes again, and I can’t hold back anymore.

I bury myself deep inside her, my cock pulsing as I fill her up.

We stay like that for a moment, both of us panting, our bodies slick with sweat.

I pull out slowly, watching my cum drip out of her perfect little pussy, and I can’t help but smirk.

She collapses against the bed and I know she’s mine in every way that matters.

I crawl up beside her and wrap my arms around her, pulling her close, letting her come down in my arms. She breathes against my chest, fully relaxed. There’s a new peace in her now, one I haven’t seen before. And I think maybe, just maybe, she’s starting to believe the things I say to her.

“You don’t have to be anything else,” I say, holding her. “Not for me. You’re already more than enough.”

She’s still curled into my chest when I realize the light has changed again.

Faded blue slips in around the edges of the windows, turning everything still.

Stormy’s fingers are tracing circles on my stomach.

She hasn’t said anything since I pulled her into my arms, and I haven’t needed her to, but I feel something change in her breath.

It’s a new kind of tension, and I patiently wait.

She lifts her head so she can look at me. Her eyes are steady now, like whatever she’s about to say is already decided.

“I have to go back to New York,” she says.

There’s no drama in her voice, no hesitation. Just truth.

I nod once. “I know.”

She watches me carefully.

“I’m not running away from you,” she says, like she needs me to understand. “There are things … people I have to face. Loose ends I need to tie up. Family I need to look in the eye.”

I don’t look away from her.

She exhales like she’s been holding that breath for days. Her forehead drops to my shoulder, and I feel the tension bleed out of her.

We lie like that for a while, breathing in sync. The fan hums gently above us.

She moves in my arms, her cheek brushing against my chest like she’s working up the nerve to speak again.

“I want you to come with me,” she says.

I blink because that’s not what I expected her to say.

For a second, I think maybe I misheard her, but then she lifts her head and looks at me. There’s nothing casual about the way she said it.

“You want me to …” I trail off, trying to catch up. “To New York?”

She nods once. “I know it’s a lot, but I don’t want to go without you.”

I sit up a little, leaning on my elbow so I can see her better.

It hits me all at once. She’s asking for me to join her, not just here in this bed or this house, but wherever she’s going next. It feels big. It is big.

“Stormy,” I say, brushing her hair behind her ear, “you could ask me to follow you to the edge of hell, and I’d pack my bag before you finished the sentence.”

She exhales, and her whole body relaxes against me.

“I don’t know what I’m walking into,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “But I know what I’m walking away from.”

“I understand,” I say, watching her. “And what happens afterward? Will you return here with me?”

“Only if that’s what you want,” she says.

“What do you want, darlin’?”

“This,” she stresses. “You. Us. A half-finished house and a dog that needs adopting.”

I hold her tight, laughter and happiness spilling out of me. I press kisses wherever I can. “You’re choosing me?”

“You chose me first,” she says, smiling, happy, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I don’t want this to end. I don’t care about anything else.”

We lie there like that for a while, and it feels like a decision is being made in the silence.

Eventually, I glance toward the clock and slide my hand across her lower back.

“What time will we leave?”

“Around eight in the morning on Saturday,” she says against my chest, kissing my tattoo. “I’d say now, but I’m looking forward to dinner with Remi and Cash tomorrow night. And I have a lot of mental preparation to do.”

I grin into her hair. “I’m here with you.”

She laughs. “Should I tell them we’re leaving?”

I shake my head. “Only if you want to answer five million questions. You can explain when we return, if you’re comfortable.”

“Okay.” She’s silent for a beat. “I’m glad I found you.”

Her voice is certain, like she’s not just saying it; she believes it.

My chest tightens. I pull her closer. “Fuck, me too, darlin’.”

She exhales against my skin, and I can feel her settle, like something inside her has changed.

We lie there like that with our limbs tangled and hearts steady until the room fades to night. And in the stillness, I realize that she’s not just choosing me. She’s choosing us —this life, this future, this messy, half-built dream we’re still putting together. And I’ll follow her anywhere.

She’s worth crossing the country for, especially if she’s coming home with me afterward.