Ginger's Heart (A Modern Fairytale, #3)(136)
“I want that too,” she whispered, so close to him that her breasts were crushed between them. He reached down and cupped her ass, lifting her gently, helping her bent knees settle on either side of his hips. She arched into him, against him, reaching down to position the tip of his sex at the entrance of her body, then winding her arms around his neck to hold herself up.
“Lionhearted woman,” he sighed. “I love you forever.”
“I love you forever too,” she said, lowering herself, inch by inch, onto his swollen, throbbing cock.
She was wet and warm, tight and soft, squeezing him like a glove, sucking him forward and up up up into the heaven of her sex. He held his breath, feeling her stretch to take him, amazed by the tiny ridges that massaged his cock, waiting until she was fully impaled on him before exhaling. Her eyes, which had been closed, opened, finding his, owning his, and he knew, for the first time in his entire life, what it was to feel his body fused to another human being’s, what it was to feel his soul open to hers, and why having sex was a completely different thing from making love.
“Baby,” he panted, “are you okay?”
“Mm-hm,” she sighed, smiling this ridiculously beautiful, dreamy grin that made his balls tighten and his heart burst.
He thrust up, into her, and she moaned, leaning forward to press her forehead to his.
“Again,” she gasped, moving her hips, dragging her breasts against his chest.
“Kiss me,” he said, pumping into her, trying to restrain himself, but unable to resist the unbelievable paradise of her *.
His lips fell upon hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth as he quickened his thrusts. She broke off their kiss, her fingers curling into his shoulders as her whimpers became faster and louder, and the walls of her sex started squeezing.
“Cain,” she moaned, her voice breaking as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I love you. I love you so much.”
She was so beautiful, he could barely breathe.
“Come for me, baby. I’m right behind you.”
“Cain!” she screamed as her * fisted, then released, convulsing in waves. She threw back her head, her throat taut, her pulse fluttering like a wild thing.
Cain held on to her hips, plunging into her once, twice, three ti—he cried out her name, roaring his love for her as her wrapped his arms around her body and fell over the edge of bliss, knowing with profound certainty that his life was changed forever: baptized in love, reborn in devotion, his heart bound to hers until death.
Chapter 33
He was right, of course. Ginger had never made love until tonight. And now she wanted nothing more—nothing, for the rest of her life—than to spend every night making love with Cain.
The second time, he’d stared into her eyes and moved slowly, entering her with aching and maddening deliberateness, hovering over her, his weight braced on his veined arms, his muscles bulging, his thick erection moving inside her, leaving no part of her untouched, untaken, unloved. They’d come softly together with moans of pleasure, locked on each other’s faces, captive in each other’s eyes, with no need for pledges or promises. Just a million thoughts that they’d never expressed poured into one shared expression of seamless love as their bodies trembled together with the intensity of perfect union, and then they fell asleep still intimately joined, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms.
Hours later her eyes opened lazily to a pitch-black room. She stirred just a little from her warm and cozy nest, checking out the clock on Cain’s bedside table: 10:43. She smiled and nestled back into his arms. They’d been sleeping for a couple of hours, and she definitely wasn’t sure she wanted to wake up yet so she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed.
“You hungry, princess?” he asked, his breath warm and soft against the back of her neck.
“You’re awake?” She turned around in his arms to face him. Her tender breasts, which he’d loved to aching just hours before, scraped against the springy hair on his chest, and she bit her tongue to keep from moaning.
“I don’t . . .,” he started, then grinned at her, the crevices of his dimples deep in his cheeks. He shook his head and fell onto his back, scrubbing his hands over his face before looking back over at her with a goofy, happy grin. “I don’t want to miss anythin’. Does that make me the sappiest boyfriend in the whole f*ckin’ world?”
She was lying on her side, one elbow propping up her head as she watched him. “Boyfriend?”
He blinked, his eyes suddenly uncertain. “No?”
“Yes,” she said softly, laying her palm flat on the ripple of muscles on his chest, her heart bursting with tenderness. “Definitely, yes.”
“Can we be together in Apple Valley?” he asked, eyebrows raised.
She winced, taking a deep breath. “Not yet.”
“But he wanted—” Cain stopped abruptly, biting down on his lower lip, his expression troubled.
But he wanted . . .
“What? Who? ‘He’ Woodman?” she asked, rubbing his chest gently, leaning over to try to read his eyes, which he kept downcast. “Cain? What were you goin’ to say?”
He closed his eyes and dragged his thumb back and forth across his lip before opening them again but stared straight up at the ceiling, not at her. “Leave it.”