Page 146 of Saxon

I snort a laugh as he goes cross-eyed, knees already giving out.

"Wait, wait, wait." He pulls away, tensed, panting.

Before I can say "Boo," he's picked me up and is carrying me across the suite to the bedroom. He sets me down carefully, as if I'm made of glass. I reach up and cup his face.

"Come here," I whisper.

He kneels on the bed between my thighs, and I sit up, claim his mouth in a kiss—the kiss to end all kisses, knotting my fingers in his hair, pulling him down over me.

I splay my thighs wide to accommodate him, reach between us and guide him to me, still kissing him, desperately, moaning.

He breaks the kiss to groan as I take him into myself, and his face buries in my breasts. I hold him there, wrapping my heels around his back.

"Terra," he whispers, shaking.

"I know," I whisper back. "Me too."

"You feel too fucking good," he growls.

"Show me."

He digs a hand under my head and cups the back of my neck, and his eyes bore into mine from inches away, and I see his soul laid bare, pouring into me.

We move together, and he's all I need—us, like this. I feel it rising, and I don't fight it, don't push it back or hold it off, because I know he's right there with me. His eyes never leave mine, not for a moment.

There's no fanfare. It's not the most powerful orgasm he's ever given me. It happened pretty fast, all told, but it's perfect.

I explode into climax, and I feel no shame in my tears. "Oh god, Saxon, oh god—I love you, oh god, I love you, I love you, Saxon, I love you—"

He lets his own tears fall at my words, unashamed, as he releases in sync with me. "Terra, Terra, my love, my love—oh god I love you.”

I kiss his tears as he pours himself into me, and then I taste salt, my tears on his tongue, and I know that no matter what he may have said, he needed to hear it, needed to hear me say it.

When it's over, he collapses on me, and I cradle his head to my breasts and feel him breathe, and hold him. Stare at my rings—my diamond catching the morning light, my wedding band glittering.

"Husband?" I say, tucking my chin to look down at him.

He grins up at me. "Yes, wife?"

"Fuck me again. Please?" I push against him, feel him respond. "And then take me home so we can christen your bed. And your shower. And your floor. And maybe a few walls."

He laughs. "Just a few of the walls?"

"Fine, all of them."

He rolls me to my stomach, presses kisses from my shoulders to my spine to my ass, kissing me there, everywhere, endlessly, before he pulls me to my hands and knees and drives inside me, and fucks me senseless.

And then we go home—to Club Sin, where we christen all the aforementioned places.

And one of the benches in the gym.

And the stairwell leading up to the parking lot.

But mostly, he just loves me, in bed and out of it.

THE END