Page 101 of Timelessly Ours

I whimper and lift my hips, needing more.

But he pulls them out.

I groan. “Did you have other plans for tonight?”

“As a matter of fact, no. But…since you’re here.” He positions himself at my entrance and strokes me with the tip.

“Fuck.” He stops and reaches for what I assume is a condom at his nightstand. He tears it open, and I grasp his hands.

“I’m clean. I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”

“I believe you honey, but—”

“And it’s a safe time of the month for me. I don’t want anything between us. At least, not the first time we do this."

He whispers words of endearment and bends to kiss me. When I open my eyes, the condom is gone and his hands are on my hips as he slowly pushes inside me.

I freeze.

I know he’s not fully in, but I feel so full already.

It hurts. But not in a painful way. I feel an unfamiliar ache in my chest, in my stomach.

It feels remarkably good, but it also makes me want to cry.

“Nicole.”

I meet his gaze. The tender way he’s watching me.

“What is it, baby?”

I reach up and cup his cheeks. “Make me yours tonight. Own me. Own my body.” If I ever wanted to be possessed by anyone, it would be by this man and this man only.

He gives me another slow thrust. “Then I’m yours,” he counters, moving slowly until I have every last inch of him.

It’s intense. And it doesn’t even feel like an invasion. It feels like he belongs.

I’m so aroused that I lift my hips for him, urging him on.

He drops his palms on either side of me and watches me as he thrusts faster, deeper, his cock pulsing inside me, making me clench.

He groans when I do and pumps furiously until we’re both breathless. I cry out and moan low, shaking beneath him, feeling like I’m literally coming apart at the seams.

“Squeeze my cock again,” he growls.

I comply and with another deep thrust, he roars beautifully, meeting me there.

I return from the bathroom a few minutes later, feeling much cleaner than I did when he tried to gently wipe me with a washcloth.

He breathes me in when I slip back into his strong arms. “Do you like flowers?”

“Um…I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

“You don’t know if you like flowers?”

“I mean, they look pretty in gardens. But I don’t have a favorite or anything. We never had fresh flowers in my house growing up. Wh—why do you ask?”

He strokes my neck. “The perfume you’re wearing. It smells like lilac and vanilla.”