Page 108 of Wait for Him

"What else do you like to call me?" She scrapes her nails down my chest and follows the sting with soft kisses, one for each mark.

"Ma'am," I say with a smug grin.

"Such a good boy for me."

She reaches between us and guides me inside her, sinking down inch by inch, and her head falls back on a deep moan. "I love how you fill me. How I wrap around your cock."

My eyes follow my own hands as I run them up over her shoulders, then down to cup her breasts, like I'm mapping her. They trail lower, over her stomach, across the soft strip of hair at her pussy, and finally settle on her hipbones, thumbs pressing into the hollows there like they were carved just for me.

She rises up on her knees, and I hold myself steady at her entrance and guide her back down slowly. She winces at the new angle, at how deep I sit inside her like this, and I go completely still beneath her, hands gentling on her hips.

"Take your time, baby," I whisper, holding her eyes.

She bends and kisses me softly.

I want to spend the rest of my life exactly like this. Not necessarily naked in a hotel bed, although I'm certainly open to making that a recurring agenda item, but with her. We wasted years pining and inventing reasons we didn't make sense, and every one of those reasons dies a little more every time she looks at me like this.

She was made for me.

Whether I deserve her is another question, and I'm not letting that particular bastard into this bed.

When she relaxes again, the tension leaves her face and she starts moving with more confidence, her hands braced against my chest while our eyes stay locked.

"Jackson." My name leaves her on a broken breath. Her back arches, and I can feel every muscle in her rippling around me.

"Fuck, Rose. You feel so… fucking… good," I growl through my teeth.

She sits taller and keeps moving, finding a rhythm that has the last of my control hanging by a fucking thread. I clench my jaw and watch her take what she needs, and I have never in my life been more grateful to be used.

"Keep me, Jackson." Her voice breaks on it. "Don't let me go."

My heart fucking clenches.

Does she even know what she's asking?

I'd keep her forever if she'd let me. Hell, I've been hers since before I had any right to be.

I catch a handful of her hair and bring her mouth down to mine, kissing her hard enough to swallow whatever sound comes next.

"I won't, Rose." I hold her against me, forehead pressed to hers when the kiss breaks. "You're stuck with me, baby."

Rose

"If you keep looking at me like that, we'll have to delay the jet and stay until I've had my fill of you."

"I am yours to command, ma'am," he says, matter-of-fact, one hand braced against the tile, the other stroking himself, water running over a body I've spent this whole trip becoming intimately reacquainted with.

We've been in New York for two days, and when we aren't in meetings, we've been locked inside this hotel room, surfacing only to eat, shower and occasionally sleep. There's a stack of room-service trays by the door and a do-not-disturb sign that has more than earned its keep. At this point housekeeping probably thinks we're dead. I imagine the food disappearing periodically is the only thing keeping them from calling for a wellness check.

And he's properly marked up now. Nail tracks run down his chest and back, with bite marks scattered over his thighs and shoulders in deep shades of purple. He keeps admiring them whenever he catches sight of himself in a mirror, pleased as hell with every one, and he took everything I gave him so beautifully that looking at the evidence makes me want to add to it.

He looks glorious as mine.

We need to be at the airport in a couple of hours, which is the only reason I agreed to let him shower alone. It was a mature, responsible decision made by two adults with a schedule to keep.

It lasted approximately ninety seconds.

"Jackson?"