Page 131 of Love Me

“You feel so fucking good,” I growl into her ear.

She tries to raise her hands to my face but I hold them down.

“Don’t move,” I order. “You only get to move when I say so.”

Her lips part but I tighten my hold around her neck. The next sound to come out of that beautiful mouth of hers is a purring cry. I already feel her legs tremble around me.

“Don’t come until I tell you to.”

“I-I-I can’t,” she cries out when I loosen my hold on her neck.

“You can’t?” I ask at the same time I pull completely out of her.

A whining moan escapes her lips.

“Die—”

I don’t give her time to finish my name before I flip her onto all fours. Her hands still above her head, I push her face down against the blanket and make her back arch for me.

She’s so fucking wet, that I easily slide inside of her from behind. Her entire body shivers. I want to hold out for as long as possible. For the both of us to hold out for as long as we can.

I don’t ever want this feeling of being bare inside of her to go away. To know that right now, she’s mine. Only mine. The way it was always supposed to be.

“Mine!” I ground out with each stroke of my cock. “Say it, Monique. Tell me you’re mine,” I demand.

When she doesn’t respond fast enough, I pull her up, bringing her back against my front. I move my hand around to the front of her neck before biting her earlobe.

“Say it.”

“Y-Yours,” she pants out. “I’m yours.”

The words are the soft balm my soul needed.

“Then come on my dick like a good girl.”

I use my free hand to massage her clit. It doesn’t take much before she’s exploding around me. I feel every contraction of her pussy muscles as her orgasm tears through her. Monique lets her head fall against my shoulder while she continues to call out my name.

It’s music to my fucking ears.

How I went so many years without claiming her is a fucking wonder to me. That shit is over now, though.

“I love you, too,” she says, breathlessly. More than feeling her orgasm around me, those three words set off the explosion of my own orgasm.

She’s mine. And I’m never giving her up.

CHAPTER33

Monique

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I say to Kennedy Townsend with the biggest grin on my face. We’re standing in the middle of my gallery.

The opening is in less than a week. Aside from some minor touches, it’s complete. I’m waiting until the last moment to hang all of the paintings on the walls. However, I know where every single painting is going. My only question is which piece to make the centerpiece. The main painting that visitors will see first as they enter the gallery on opening night.

I’m having trouble deciding between one of Melinda Blake‘s works and one of Jocelyn Burke’s grandmother’s paintings.

“What you’ve created in a few short months is amazing,” Kennedy says as she looks around. “You’re going to have a full house on opening night. Theo Bilkens, the head of the Arts & Culture department of my paper, has already name dropped your gallery in a few writeups,” she tells me.

Kennedy is an investigative reporter for a major imprint based here in Williamsport. The fact that the name of my gallery has even made it into the rooms of her paper’s headquarters is music to my ears.