Don't Speak (A Modern Fairytale, #5)(116)

***

“I do,” he said, his face reverent and tender as he nodded. “Kneel on either side of my hips.”

She followed his directions, never looking away from his steadfast gaze, grateful for his patience and for the loving way he watched her. Kneeling over his erection, she could feel the tip brush against her as she positioned herself and it made her shiver with the enormity of what they were about to do. But no part of her, not one cell, questioned if this was the right decision for her and her life. She’d dreamed of this moment for six long years.

“When you’re ready,” he said, his voice pure gravel, “reach down and guide it inside.”

“Like . . . sit on it?” she asked.

He nodded, his jaw tight, like he was in a little bit of pain.

“Okay,” she said, her voice breathless in her ears.

She tilted her ass up which made her breasts rub against his chest, tightening her already rigid nipples. Biting on her lower lip, she reached between their bodies, her fingers wrapping around the velvet-covered steel of his erection. It pulsed in her palm, alive and eager, and made her mouth water with anticipation. Her body, deprived of his for so long, was slick and wet with want as she lined up the tip of his sex at the opening of hers.

Her breathing was shallow and ragged as she released him, holding his eyes with hers as she rested both hands on his shoulders and slowly—so slowly that she could feel the ridges of his cock massage every inch of her—she lowered herself onto him until her ass rested on his upper thighs, and he was embedded as deeply within her as possible.

“Ahhh!” he cried, the sound a mix of a growl and a groan as he reached for her hips, his hands landing on them gently but firmly as he thrust upward.

It was her turn to moan, her head falling back as her shoulders clenched and her eyes rolled back in her head. He was so big, so thick, filling her completely, stretching parts of her that hadn’t been touched since their daughter was born years before.

“Am I . . . oh, baby,” he asked, groaning as his hands guided the movements of their bodies, moving hers up and down on his. “Am I hurtin’ you?”

“Noooo,” she sighed, leaning her head up and opening her eyes. “It feels so . . . good.”

“It does,” he said, taking one hand from her hip to plump her breast and suck the nipple into his mouth. He laved it with his hot, wet tongue, making her whimper in pleasure-pain, his cock still driving up into her body with increased speed.

She reached for his jaw, lifting his head and kissing him, their tongues seeking each other with urgency as he continued sliding into her. A swirling had started in her belly when he’d first touched her tonight, and now it had color and sound. It was brighter and brighter whenever she closed her eyes, and her heartbeat was louder and louder in her ears as heat radiated out from the place where they were joined, inviting her entire body to experience the climax that was coming.

Her fingers curled into his cheeks as she kissed him, and he leaned back against the pillows, flat on his back. Laire tipped her body forward, still impaled on his thickness, her palms flattening over his erect nipples as she rode him, meeting each of his upward thrusts. His hands slid from her waist to the backs of her thighs, pushing her forward with faster, tighter movements inside her.

Her breathing was as ragged and shallow as his when she felt the contractions start deep within, changing quickly into lightning-fast muscle shudders, her body fisting around his cock as her head fell back and her body convulsed with a cry that came from the depth of her soul.

He jackknifed into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around her.

“I love you. I love you. IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou . . .,” she murmured blindly, looping her arms around his neck and letting her sweaty forehead fall to his shoulder as her body shattered and shook, coming apart and fitting back together in his arms.

He thrust upward with a guttural groan of pleasure.

“Laire!” he cried, his arms tightening as his cock strained, pulsing wildly within her. “Laire. Laire. Laire. My darlin’ . . . you’re mine . . .”

His forehead fell limply against her shoulder, and that’s how they remained. Entwined in each other’s arms, finally sated, finally whole, their hearts beating madly against each other, love found, love made, love requited.

***

It was torture to leave her.

Torture.

As he pulled out of the Pamlico House driveway at the crack of dawn, he looked up to see Laire, wrapped in a sheet, waving from the second-floor window. Her eyes were soft, and her lips tilted upward in a sad smile. She pressed her fingers to her lips then flattened her palm and blew. I love you.

I love you too, he mouthed, rolling down his window and blowing a kiss back before pulling away.

Turning onto Route 12, he sighed, letting himself relive a little of last night’s splendor. They’d made love four or five more times, reaching for each other ceaselessly, showering in the early hours of morning, only to crawl into bed and make love again. Finally giving up on sleep, they opted instead to cuddle together in Erik’s bed with Laire telling him stories about Ava Grace until the first strains of sunlight forced him from her arms.

He resented the sunlight. He hated it.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he muttered. “But I have to go now to come back for good.”

“What’s the plan?”