Page 42 of Silver Fox Grump
“You’re so slick and tight, you feel like heaven. Being such a good girl for me.” I thrust harder, and then I can’t help it. I’m speeding up.
But I’m intent on her pleasure, too, so even as my balls tighten, and the pressure spirals at the base of my spine, I’m watching for the place that makes her shudder and moan. And yes, I’m using her. I lift her hips to get her onto my cock faster and deeper.
“Come, Maisie. I can’t hold on and I need to fill you up and make you pregnant.”
Her cheeks go pink, and she whines, almost lifting herself off the bed from her tense forearms.
“I’ll use you as my precious, perfect sex toy, filling you up over and over until my seed is permanently sliding down your thighs. I’m going to fuck my baby into you.”
She’s sobbing now, just needing that spark to tip her over.
“Milk it out of me,” I say hoarsely. “If you want it, take it, sweetheart. Take it.” I slam into her, my hands grasping. “I love you.”
She clenches around me, and I feel her orgasm before I hear her choked scream and see her shake with the intensity of it. And this time, I can’t hold on. One more stroke into her lush, beautiful body, and then I come.
I’ve never felt anything like it. My balls pull up as jet after jet wracks through me and into her. It’s an explosion of pleasure. I’ve lost control of myself. I roar. This girl is mine, and marking her by coming inside her is a primal satisfaction.
I’m broken. Mind, body, both destroyed. My heart is hers, given entirely, with every part of myself. As I promised, I filled her up.
But I’m not hollow. I’m full too.
Somehow, I manage to lie down and have her in my arms, careless of how messy we both are. My hands are sticky from her juices, and between her thighs and all over and around my cock is soaked. But when I lie on my side and press my forehead to hers, my chest is overflowing with love. It might be my love for her, or hers for me, I don’t have a clue.
All I know is that when I kiss her, she whispers, “I love you,” and I say the same thing back to her, and that is all that matters, and will ever matter.
I can’t move, and neither can she. I think we nap, and when I open my eyes, Maisie is tucked into my chest, and she’s awake, tracing her fingers across my skin.
“Did you mean it that you’ve watched me from when I started working for Morden?” she asks, her lips on the tattoo I got only weeks after we met.
“Yes.” I turn and press my lips to the top of her head. “There has been no one else since we met. You’re everything, and you always will be. I could no more think of loving another woman than a deep-sea fish could leave the ocean. It would be death. It would be throwing away all the things that nourish me, let me breathe, and give me joy.”
“Ohh.” She sighs happily.
“You’re mine, Maisie. I meant that. You’re mine, and I’m yours.”
EPILOGUE
MAISIE
7 years later
He’s still a stalker, my husband.
I’m with the kids in the playroom, on my hands and knees as we play zoo. I’m a horse. Tommaso is a hippo, Josie is a rabbit—even though her twin Jackie is grumpy that rabbits aren’t zoo animals—Jackie is a monkey, and Ginevra is a tiger. We are all crawling around on the floor, except for baby Aldo, who is asleep in his crib on the other side of the room.
He, according to his big sister Josie, is a mouse.
“Arrrr!” Tommaso makes an indistinct noise.
“What was that?” Ginevra asks, coming out of tiger character.
“’Ippo!” Tommaso says delightedly. He is just three, and shakes his head in what I think is supposed to be a hippo action.
“It was a growl, but I’m the tiger, not you,” says Ginevra, skirting along the line of peevish and amused.
“I think it sounded like a wolf,” says Jackie, distracted for the moment from her critique of Josie’s animal choice.
I suppress a giggle. It did sound a bit wolf-ish.