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“I don’t know. Weren’t you the one testing the waters?”

I barked out a laugh. “I guess I was. Yep, you’re ready.”

Marlowe’s bruises were now green and yellow, so I rested most of my body weight onto my one forearm, as I guided my penis to her delicate entrance. Just like the times before, she reared upwards, taking more of me than I was ready to give.

My woman was greedy.

My woman was perfect.

I thrust the rest of the way inside of her body, and my groan of pleasure mirrored her moan. I stayed there. Not moving. Basking in the way we fit together. Marlowe opened her eyes and looked at me from beneath her lashes. Then the minx squeezed me. I groaned again.

“You’re not going to go easy on me, are you?”

“What’s the fun in that?” she purred.

She had a point.

I pulled out the tiniest bit and thrust back in. I did it two more times in quick succession.

“Now who’s not going easy?” She gasped.

“All’s fair.”

She clamped down on me again, and my grin matched hers. Just like that, I was riding the best ride in the amusement park.

Our bodies were soon slick with desire as we fought to bring each other to the brink. Back and forth we played with one another. She tried to push me over onto my back. I made her work for it before I acquiesced. Her smile of triumph was a thing of beauty.

“I’ve gotcha now,” she crowed.

“Yeah, but what are you going to do with me?” I smirked.

“This.” She rose up, then slammed down on my cock, then she bit my chest.

God, this woman was made for me.

I rolled her back over and nuzzled her neck as I thrust in and out, I could tell I was hitting that magical spot inside of her, because her moans were getting serious.

“Kai. Do something,” she begged.

“I thought I was,” I teased.

“More. Make it more. Kai. Do more.”

I loved the way she wasn’t making sense. Hell, I was about close to gibberish, that’s the reason I wasn’t talking. I pressed in deeper, making sure to twist my hips. Each time I did, Marlowe would gasp, or moan, or cry out. Each sound she made would push me closer to the edge.

“I’m close. So close,” she whispered.

Thank God.

I thrust deep.

“Yes! God yes.”

Her channel gripped me like a vice, and I went over the same hill of the rollercoaster.

“Fuck, yeah.”

We were both reading on the sofa when my phone played Lynard Skynyrd’s “Free Bird.” Marlowe looked up at me, a question in her gaze.