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I say doubtfully, “I don’t think that’s going to—” but my concern is muffled by his tongue in my mouth again. Somehow, I’m flat on my back with Owen’s firm but soft lips on mine, his inked forearms framing my torso and his broad chest blocking out the rest of the room.
“I think I'll fit,” he rumbles, then shoves my hips apart with his thighs and lines up that throbbing dick. I’m wet and ready for him, and it’s a good thing, too, because I am swiftly stuffed with thick, hot cock. My formerly empty pussy is suddenly very, very full, and I fight for air as my body accommodates his.
I feel tears at the corners of my eyes, but not of pain. I’m not sure what they’re of, really, but Owen sees them and hovers, restraining himself.
“Are you okay?” My cheeks flame—I would have a total break down right when I’m about to get the dicking of a lifetime. He bosses, “Nope. Don’t you dare. I feel it too. Just hold still and let me take care of you.” And then he starts to move and I forget everything but his broad form moving over mine, his dick filling my body, his balls bouncing off my ass, his chest rubbing against my sensitive breasts, and his warm brown eyes drinking in mine and everything they reveal.
The intense moment passes as he starts rolling his hips against me faster and deeper, while I urge him on with my heels against the backs of his thighs and my arms around his neck. I arch into him as he reaches under me and, spanning my lower back with one hand, pins me in place. I relax and submit as triumph molds his features and he fucks me even harder and faster. My breath stutters in my chest and waves of ecstasy roll through me as I cling to him while he thrusts roughly a few more time, then stops. My pussy is filled with heat as his orgasm floods me, then I collapse back on the bed, spent.
He collapses too, barely holding himself up enough not to crush me but still pressing against me with feverish skin. I can’t stand the intensity in his gaze and shut my eyes, but he doesn’t let me escape that easily.
“Give me your eyes, Elizabeth.”
“No.” I shamelessly pout.
“Now,” he orders.
I force them open and watch his fierce stare soften into something else. Something I’m afraid to name, afraid it’s not mine to keep but knowing I can’t bear to give it back.
“You don’t have to,” he says, and I realize I said at least some of that out loud.
“But you left,” I answer, having finally regained my voice. "If you feel…that…why did you come up here without me?”
“I didn’t leave to get away from you, babe. I came up here to get a place ready for you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I knew you would come up here and I wanted to be ready. You won’t be going back.”
“What will I do up here?” I add belatedly, “And also, that’s not your decision to make.”
“You’re right; it isn’t mine. It’s yours, and you’re a smart woman. You’ll see I’m right.”
“Ugh, your male ego.” Owen smirks while I sigh, my chest tight with all the things that could go wrong. Will I end up like Len’s wife, giving up pieces of myself until there’s only an Elizabeth-shaped ghost left?
“No,” he says firmly after reading my face. “I will never take from you what I won’t give.”
“You aren’t quicksand? I’m not going to sink into your dick trap until there’s nothing of me left? Promise?”
“I promise, Elizabeth Brand. With me, you don’t stand on quicksand. You stand on stone.”
I look at him solemnly for a few seconds replaying his words, then I burst into laughter while he replays them in his head too.
“Okay, that was a lot, but I meant every sappy word. You’re mine, Elizabeth. I will clear the way for you, work beside you, and stand behind you. But I will never let you go.”
Well okay, then, says my heart, and for once, my mind agrees.
Chapter Six
A few weeks later, my girl falls asleep in my arms after a ceremony and reception, topped by a wild fuck and dessert. Now, after making leisurely love to my new wife one more time, my gaze falls on the gleaming band on her finger and I dream about our future.
I have no doubt that she’ll accomplish every single thing she puts her mind to. When she falters and needs a steadying hand, a good fuck, or laughter over pizza and beer, I’ll be here. Elizabeth Stone is mine to cherish, mine to protect, and mine to keep.
For as long as we both shall live.
And they lived happily ever after.
Thank you for reading our anthology to promote suicide awareness and mental health support! If you’d like to read more about the Concierges, you’ll find the same humor and heat, along with a truckload of action and intrigue.
