Page 79 of The Last Person

He strolls into the room, hands tucked in the pockets of his gray sweats. “I like watching you in your element.” He nods toward the windows. “How are the kids?”

“Mostly good.”

“Greta?”

“Yep.”

“Always my spicy girl.”

I break into a laugh. “I love you.”

Wrapping his arms around my waist, he brushes his lips over mine. “I love you too.”

Then one hand slides up my back as he slants his mouth over mine. Our tongues twist, and that calm, settled feeling washes over me. Physically and emotionally, I’m home.

I curl my fingers into his hair, dipping him back slightly as I deepen our kiss.

More than a year together, and I’m just as desperate for him as the night it all started.

My life has been richer and warmer since it twined with his. Not that it’s a surprise. His brightness lights up every dark space in my life.

“I need you,” he rasps.

Then we’re fumbling across the house toward the master, shedding clothes as we go.

“What do you want?” I rumble, dragging my lips down his neck.

“I need you to fuck me.”

“Are you?—”

My words die as he turns and shows me the plug in his ass.

I groan, then lift him into my arms and set him on our Wyoming king bed—a little longer and wider than a typical king, so we have more space.

Climbing over the top of him, I grab lube from the drawer and get myself ready, then slowly remove the plug, savoring his whimpers as I do.

As fun as it is to tease him, this is one of the times where I’m too needy and desperate to even consider that.

As I press my tip to his entrance, he bears down, and when I add more lube, my cock easily slips inside.

“Fuck, baby. I’ll never get enough of this.” He throws his head back and fists the sheets, his legs pulled up to his stomach as he waits for me to fuck him.

“Neither will I,” I mutter. The head of my cock is oversensitive with how horny I am, and my balls are already tight.

The only bad thing about our sex life is how easily we both come the first time around. It’s hard to go slow.

“I need to come,” he whines, stroking his cock.

“Then come. Let your perfect ass squeeze my cock until I fill you. Or do you need to feel the warmth of cum first? Need me to mark you as mine?”

“Yes,” he gasps, stroking himself faster.

I’ve barely made it all the way inside him, and he’s ready to blow. But I am too, so I have nothing to say.

Grabbing his waist, I pull him tight to me, and he cries out.

“More?” I ask.