Page 39 of Where the Roses Bloom

He pulled out. Pushed back in.

“Fuck…fuck,” he growled. “Never…never felt like this.”

I scratched a languid line up his spine. “I know, I know, I know…”

He moved inside me again, hips rocking. “Tryin’…I swear I'm not usually quick on the draw, but you feel so fuckin’ good…”

“Take your time,” I breathed. “I don't want you to stop.”

No…I didn't want that at all. I wanted him to fuck me until he came…I wanted him to fill me.

Then I wanted to be filled again. Again.Again.

I wanted him to put a baby in me.

As if he could read my mind, Rhett started to move. Bracing himself with one knee on the bed, he hitched my leg up around his waist…thrust deep…

Then—the rhythm. In…out…in…

“Fuck…” he cursed again, but he didn't stop. “Fuck, are you on the pill? I didn't even think…”

“Just come inside me,” I blurted out.

His breath caught.

For one suspended second, he just stared down at me—like I’d knocked the wind right out of him. Like I’d offered him something he hadn’t even let himself hope for.

“Willow…” he breathed.

And for a heartbeat I thought he might pull away. Thought maybe I’d said too much, too soon. That I’d crossed some invisible line between wanting him and wantingeverything.

But then?—

He surged forward with a sound that was all need and no hesitation, his mouth crashing to mine, his hips grinding deep like he couldn’t help it anymore.

“Jesus,” he groaned into my neck. “You want me to fill you up, baby? Want me to come so deep you feel me for days?”

I gasped, nails biting into his shoulders.

He didn’t wait for permission this time. Didn’t pull back to ask again. He just started moving—slow at first, thick and heavy inside me, every roll of his hips dragging moans from both of us. His hand slid up to cradle the back of my head, like he was trying to protect me from how hard he was fucking me.

“This pussy,” he rasped. “Fuck, it’s mine, isn’t it? You want me to claim you, really claim you—make sure nobody else ever even thinks about touchin’ you again?”

“Yes,” I whined. “Yes, yes…”

“You want me to fill this pussy up, rosebud?” he snarled. The slap of our bodies together was an insane melody, primal and perfect. “Want me to give you a baby?”

God, yes. Yes, it was what I wanted more than anything. I curled around him as I nodded into the crook of his neck, biting my lip so hard it bled. “Please, Rhett.”

His hips stuttered at my plea.

For half a breath, he froze—like the world had tilted beneath us—and then he snapped.

“Oh, fuck me,” he growled, voice breaking. “You want me to knock you up, baby? You want my baby growin’ in this sweet belly?”

“Yes,” I sobbed. “God, yes—please?—”

He shoved in deep, burying himself to the hilt. My back arched and his hands locked around my thighs, pushing them wider, holding me open.