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“You’ve always?—”
“Always, Hannah,” I say.
She moans against my lips.
“I’ve always wanted this pussy,” I say. “Your mouth.” I take a handful of her hair and tug lightly. “I’ve always wanted to make you come while you sit on my face.”
“Oh my?—”
“And I’ve spent fucking years thinking about you naked. Resisting you. All while you walk around looking like my girl.”
She’s speechless, her gaze on me, her body soft and mellow, moving with mine as I work inside her, nice and slow.
“I’m going to make you come once for every time you’ve tortured me,” I say.
“How many times?”
“I’ve lost count, Princess.” And then I pull back and move my hand between her legs. I toy with her clit, circling it until she’s rising toward me, on the brink of her climax, then stopping again. By the third time I’ve brought her to the edge, she slaps her hands down on the comforter.
“Carter!” she shouts. “I can’t any more. I need to come.”
“You want to come?”
“Yes, please.”
“Tell me how many times you’ve come for me when you were alone.”
“I’ve… lost count.” She circles her hips, seeking release as I kneel between her legs. “Make me come. Make me come!” Hannah slaps her hands down again and grasps fistfuls of the comforter, twisting it like she wants to rip it apart.
“And how many times have you pictured it was me fucking you when you were with one of your exes?”
Her eyes widen.
I’m circling her clit again, and she’s panting, working her pussy on my shaft, losing her mind for me.
“How many times, Princess?”
“Every time.” The words escape her on a whine.
“Good girl,” I say, and, this time, when she reaches the edge, I don’t stop, I drive her over it.
Hannah screams my name repeatedly.
I wait until she’s come down before I move on top of her. “Arms around me. This is going to be fucking rough.”
And then I grab hold of the headboard behind her and start fucking. I pound into Hannah, and her skin flushes, as her eyes roll back in her head, as she comes for me again, speechless, breathless, screaming nothing.
I want to fucking ruin her for all other men on this planet. I want her to remember me when she’s gone. I want her to think of me every night for the rest of her life.
I take us both to the edge, and then I spill inside her, grinding it out. I tug on the headboard hard, and the sound of wood snapping fills the bedroom.
After, I lower myself on top of her again, still inside, and roll onto my back with her on my chest.
Hannah moans a couple more times, but the sounds wane as she drops off to sleep. I grab the comforter and pull it over both of us.
We’ll deal with the broken bed tomorrow.
Twenty-Nine
