The Resurrection of Wildflowers (Wildflower #2)(46)

My heart beats loudly and rapidly. “You want to marry me?” My voice is high and squeaky.

“I want more than to marry you.”

“W-What does that mean?” The man has me so flustered I’m stuttering now.

“It means, I want to have more babies with you. I want to go on vacations with you. I want to cook meals in this kitchen and do stupid mundane shit like clean the fucking house together. I want your clothes with mine in the fucking laundry. I want to laugh and cry together. I want to hold you every night when you sleep. I want to kiss you goodnight and good morning. I want to make love to you slow and fuck you hard. I want to sit out on the front porch and rock on the swing. I want, not only to grow old with you, but to live life with you. I want it all.”

I tackle the man.

Literally jump out of the stool I’m sitting in, where it falls with a loud bang to the floor and wrap my arms around his neck so I can kiss him. He holds me tight against him, kissing me back.

He stands up with me in his arms, my legs going around his waist.

His lips never leave mine as he sits my butt on the counter.

My hips grind against him and he puts his hands on them, forcing me to still. I mewl in protest.

Need. I need him.

“Thayer,” I plead between kisses.

His lips glide softly, delicately to my ear. “I want to take things slow,” he reminds me.

Leaning back, I grip his shirt in my hand forcing him to look at me. “Fuck slow. I went six years without you. I want you. Today, tomorrow, fifty years from now, and even when we’ve turned to stardust.” He smiles at my words. “Now, please, for the love of God—”

I don’t have to finish my sentence. His mouth slants over mine, stealing my breath.

My hands skim beneath his shirt, feeling the heat of his stomach. His abdominals flex at my touch. I pull him closer, between my legs.

Kissing his way over to my ear, he murmurs, “You are everything to me.”

Gliding a hand down my chest, between my breasts, he gently guides me to lie back. The stone is cold against my back, but I don’t feel that way for long when he quickly undoes my jean shorts, sliding them down my legs to drop them on the floor.

I cry out at the first swipe of his tongue against my pussy. I slap a hand over my mouth, stifling my sounds. He senses this somehow, grabbing my arm to pull it away from my mouth. He wants to hear me. He works his tongue against me like a man who’s been starved too long—which I guess in a way is true. His hand moves and I see him palming himself over his sweatpants. I whimper at the sight. Thayer touching himself is a ridiculously big turn-on.

With his freehand he rubs my clit and between that and the stimulation of his tongue, my orgasm spirals through me.

“Yes, yes, yes!” I cry out, the orgasm feeling never-ending.

When I finally come down from the high, my legs shaking, I climb off the counter and drop to my knees in front of Thayer.

I don’t waste any time in freeing his cock from his sweatpants. He’s big and hard and ready for me.

Biting my lip, I look up at him from beneath my lashes. “For the record, you’re still the only man I’ve done this with.”

I don’t give him a chance to respond. Swiping my tongue over the bead of pre-cum and letting the slightly salty taste settle on my tongue.

His eyes are dark and hooded, his head dropping back with a soft, “Fuck.”

Swirling my tongue around his tip, I take him deeper, stroking his length with my hand. From the sounds he’s making I must be doing an okay job. I haven’t been sucking him off long when he pushes me back.

“I’m not coming in your mouth. Not tonight.”

He gets on his knees, taking my face between his thumb and forefinger he pulls me into a rough kiss. He bites my bottom lip, quickly soothing the sting with a swipe of his tongue.

We rid ourselves of the last of our clothes, and then he’s laying me down on the floor. He bends one of my legs, and slides into me with one hard thrust.

“Oh my God!” My nails scratch at his back searching for purchase.

His eyes are molten, taking me in beneath him. He traces his fingers lightly over the stretch marks on my stomach.

“I fucking love these.” I blush at the compliment. He lays his hand over my stomach. “You grew our child in there. Your body loved her so much it always wanted to remember her.” He trails his finger over the line of one and I nearly shiver. “You feel so good, baby. You’ve always felt like mine.” He buries his head in my neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin there. I hold him tight, never wanting to let go—never wanting to forget this. The weight of his body on mine is a reminder, that this, us, is real.

“Keep going,” I beg, tugging on his hair. “I’m almost there again.”

He moans when my pussy squeezes around his cock. “Keeping doing that and I won’t last long, Sunshine.”

“Can’t help it.” I do it again. “You feel so good in me.”

“Fuck, yes, I do.” He rises above me, taking my neck in his hand and squeezing lightly. “That’s because I was made for you. And—” He pumps into me harder—“you were made for me.”

The sounds he’s making are such a turn on. Knowing he’s enjoying this, hearing his pleasure, is enough to send my second orgasm rattling through me.