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I rolled, snuggling my face against his rock-hard chest. His heart beat steady against my ear, and I clung to him, a sixth sense in the back of my mind telling me to hang onto him for every second I could.
I wanted to think that love could be enough for me to be content, that I didn’t need healing and reconciliation with Jacqueline, but would it? Could I submit to my emotions and be happy with Drake while being estranged from the mother I’d craved a relationship with for my entire life?
The war over childhood needs and adult desires cluttered my mind.
My ass ached, but I yearned for silence in my head.
I reached for Drake’s semi, and he grunted, hips flexing on instinct as I stroked him.
“Fuck, baby. Love having your hands on me.”
His words and body’s reaction to my touch roused my morning wood, and our breaths grew heavy. The thump of his heart beneath my ear was a welcomed cadence, steady and sure.
“Tell me another fantasy,” he demanded, his large hand rubbing down my back to grasp my ass cheek he’d bruised the night before. I loved he’d done that—and marked my neck in his desperate need of me. “Let me make all your dreams come true.”
My pulse raced, stomach flipping.
Love you too.
Swallowing hard, I decided to be as sexually blunt as I’d been since being stuck in the elevator. Why waste the moments allotted us, especially when Drake would never judge me for what I fantasized about with him?
Speaking what I wished for physically came ten times easier than the other vulnerable parts of me my tongue and insecurities wouldn’t allow me to share.
“I want you to suck me off and use your mouthful of my cum as lube to fuck me,” I stated without stuttering.
“Oh fuck.” Drake huffed a chuckle against my hair, thrusting into my hand. “Jesus, Preston.”
He moved in a rush, flipping me onto my back, his sleepy blue eyes peering at me from where he settled on his belly between my thighs. Butterflies erupted in my stomach at the grin lighting up his face as he pushed my legs wider. “You’re so fucking hot.”
I snorted. “Hardly.”
His gaze focused with firm intent to convince me otherwise. “You said I was your dream come true, but you’re my everything, Preston. Always have been.”
I’d imagined about hearing those words. Had craved them. And now, they hung suspended in the air between us. The promise of him wanting that same forever I’d spoken of.
But.
My throat tightened over the war inside me. “Make me come,” I rasped, desperate for release from my thoughts.
Drake swallowed me down, humming around my length and delivering my mind from its agony. I swam in pleasure, thankful for his experience, uncaring of the real world and the unknown that waited for us outside the suite’s walls.
Time stalled, and I lost myself in Drake’s touch. His coaxing lips and throat.
He feathered fingertips over my dry hole while swallowing me down, bringing me to the brink of release.
“Give me that mouthful of cum, baby,” he crooned, stroking his hand up my chest to rest over my heart. “Want it coating my dick when I sink into your sweet ass.”
“F-Fuck.” I choked on a gulp, my hips thrusting my spit-slickened cock into the air.
“Mmm,” Drake hummed while sinking over me, the heat of his mouth and swirling tongue too much to deny.
I came with a cry, my hands grasping at his hair, spine arching, and body writhing in my release. Tingles raced through my blood, sending a rushing sound through my ears. I gasped for breath, going limp, limbs askew.
Drake spat, and I blinked him into focus.
He held my cum cradled in his palm, dripping between his fingers.
Stomach flipping with desire, I stared, still breathless, as he coated his stiff length with my spunk. He spat into his palm again and grasped the back of my right knee. “Hold yourself open for me, baby.”
