Page 14 of Where the Roses Bloom (Gospels & Grimoires #1)

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 wanting everything .

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.

“Then take it,” he snarled, fucking me hard now, the rhythm relentless. “Take every fuckin’ drop, rosebud. I’m gonna fill you so deep you’ll be dreamin’ about it. You won’t be able to walk straight without rememberin’ who did this to you.”

I moaned, head falling back against the blankets as heat bloomed low and desperate. Every thrust dragged me closer to the edge again, slick and shaking, his name rolling off my tongue like it was the only word I remembered.

He brought one hand between us, thumb circling my clit in time with his thrusts, his breath hot against my neck.

“Gonna breed you, baby,” he whispered. “Make you mine for good. Make you a mama. You want that? You want to be all knocked up and swollen with my baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes?—”

“That’s it,” he groaned. “Come on my cock, Willow. Let me feel you milk me dry.”

I shattered with a cry, every muscle locking tight as I came again, harder than before. And Rhett—Rhett let go. He drove deep once, twice, then moaned, his whole body shaking as he spilled inside me.

He didn’t pull out.

Didn’t even move at first.

Just collapsed forward, bracing himself above me, one hand tangled in my hair, the other splayed over the curve of my belly. I felt him soften slowly inside me, warmth seeping deeper with every breath.

“Jesus,” he whispered, kissing my temple like he couldn’t stop. “That was…I’ve never…”

I reached up, cupping his cheek. “Me neither.”

We stayed like that for a long time, bodies tangled, his release still held deep inside me, our skin damp and hearts pounding in tandem. He didn't pull out…didn't panic, didn't tell me I needed to take Plan B in the morning.

For him, this wasn't a mistake.

Not for me either.

“I didn't mean to…” I paused, feeling how his cock pulsed inside me, groaning softly. His hips rocked, and I knew we weren't done yet tonight. “If…I've wanted a baby for a long time and I didn't mean to say…”

He brushed his lips against mine, breath still ragged. “We’ll talk tomorrow, rosebud,” he said. “But tonight? Tonight you can pretend it’s already true. You can take everything I’ve got and dream about what we’re makin’ together.”

His mouth found mine again—slow, claiming, his hips rolling deep like he couldn’t bear to leave me empty.

I gasped, clinging to him, already aching for more. “I don’t wanna pretend.”

His smile was crooked, lazy, almost drunk with it. “Good.”

He moved again. And again. A slow, steady rhythm like we had all the time in the world. No urgency now. Just the sweet ache of staying joined, of giving in.

I held him tighter. Let myself float on the edge of it, high and hazy, already sore in the best kind of way.

The windows were open. The honeysuckle breeze curled around us. And somewhere outside, a barn owl called low and lonesome into the dark .

But here…in this bed, with Rhett still inside me, his hands on my skin and his mouth trailing kisses across my throat…

Here, I wasn’t alone.

Here, I was his.

And if the moon had its way with the tide—and Rhett had his way with me—maybe I wouldn’t be alone for much longer.