Page 32 of Making Her Theirs


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“Lachlan,” she gasps, grinding her hips against mine. “You’ll visit?” Her face is hopeful.

“Of course. I’ll visit when you miss me. Us.” I’d follow this woman to the ends of the earth.

“Oh, that means so much.”

I back her against the door while peppering kisses down her neck. I smile when goose bumps scatter across her petal-soft skin.

Her hands are in my hair as my mouth captures hers. I swallow her moan. Her nipples burrow into my chest, and she’s positioned herself between my thighs and is dry-humping me. Greedy hands pull at my T-shirt and her hands stroke over muscle that quivers with her touch.

“I’m so wet for you,” she gasps when I palm her nipples.

“Show me.”

I fully expect my hand to be guided into her panties, but with a smoldering look, she dips her fingers into her shorts, past white cotton and her eyes shutter closed. I can only imagine what she’s doing. She brings two glistening fingers toward me. I am slack-jawed. She blows my world when she sucks on one finger while I feast on the other.

“Fuck.”

“Yes, please,” she murmurs.

Her shorts are off, her panties gone, and my angry, pulsing cock is freed. I massage her clit and give it a pinch, and her eyes open, her face reddens, and, fuck me, her eyes are so hazy and crazy with lust. I lift her and impale her on my cock. Her back arches, and she writhes in my arms while I drill her against the door. She screams into my neck, her fingers digging into tight muscles while I pump into her. I am gone when her walls milk my cock, and I come on a roar, pumping everything I have into her while she convulses around me. We’re panting and staring at each other.

Her eyes widen. “I think the door works.”

I laugh. Really laugh. Like I haven’t done in a long time. I couldn’t say how long, but it feels fucking amazing. Soon she’s giggling. I set her on her feet, grab my T-shirt from the floor when I yanked it off, and clean her, paying extra attention to her thighs and my newly found happy place.

“Let’s get your clothes.”

“Can you not wear a shirt?” She swats me playfully.

“I’m wearing a shirt.” I smirk.

“Well, I’m going all creeper on you and keeping this one.” She picks up the shirt I’d dropped on the floor.

“I’ve got other shirts. Don’t take that one.” I go to grab it from her, but she pulls it behind her back.

“No, I want this one. It smells of you. Smells of us.”

“Creeper much?” I can’t believe I’m this relaxed, this open around a woman.

“I know, right?” She widens her eyes.

I glance around at the threadbare flat. All that’s here is my old patio chair, and there is no way on my watch she’s sleeping in it. She’s only here for nine days. The perfect solution sails into my head.

“The only pillow you’ll be sleeping on is mine.”

She blinks at me. “What?”

“After we collect your clothes in my car because you are not catching an Uber, we’ll bring your stuff back to mine.”

Her brows draw in confusion. “What are you saying, Lachlan?”

“There’s no point in renting furniture for the short time you’re here. You already know I’m not a creeper I don’t snore. And…”

And in the short time you’ve been here, you’ve changed my life.

I break into old habits and start jiggling my leg.

“And?” Hopeful eyes hold mine.

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