The Words

by Ashley Jade

So does not thinking about him barging into my room in the middle of the night and ripping me out of my bed…just so he could bend me over and fuck me senseless in his.

“But the plans I have in mind for us involve my bed. Not yours.” A rush of heat envelops me. “What plans?” After digging his key card out of his pocket, he opens the door and pulls me inside. “Tonight, you’re gonna be the puppet.”

Given our memories shape all facets of who we are…seeing a man who looks like my dad but doesn’t act like my dad is a brand of psychological torture I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

No matter how tight I hold on, my best friend is slipping away—a little more each day—and there’s nothing I can do about it.

“Don’t let your insecurities overpower that which makes your soul come alive. Otherwise, you’ll walk this earth never feeling whole…and that’s no way to live.”

“I want to fuck you against this window.”

His lips claim mine, his tongue devouring every inch of my mouth as he rolls us over so he’s on top. His cock nudges my entrance, and he rubs himself against my slit, coating his shaft with my slickness. My heart revs into overdrive and I’m about to reach between us so I can put him inside me, but he grabs both my wrists, securing them above my head with one of his hands.

After freeing my wrists, he props himself up on his elbows, hovering above me. I exhale and he inhales as he slips inside me inch by painstaking inch. Our gazes lock as he fills me to the hilt. My chest contracts because I know nothing will ever feel as good as when he’s inside me.

A range of emotions fill my chest—each one penetrating me with the force of a bullet—as my inner walls squeeze him and I whisper his name for the very last time. His lips part and his brows draw together as pleasure washes over his face. His intense gaze never strays from mine as hot liquid fills me.

Leaning in, he closes the distance between us, kissing me with such tenderness a rush of warmth engulfs me. And then he whispers two words against my lips…two words that make the universe come to a screeching halt before bursting into flames. “Marry me.”

“You’re drunk.” I run the pad of my thumb over her cheekbone. “Trust me, if you weren’t, I’d fuck you so good you’d beg me not to stop and so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk for days.”

His chuckle is a half groan as he kisses me the same way he kisses my mouth. Passionate. Needy.

Gripping the headboard, he picks up his pace, our skin slapping together in a wild, carnal cadence that’s visceral. And his kiss is just as brutal. All tongue and sharp teeth as he ruts into me. Taking and using, but also giving and providing.

“I feel you drip down my balls every time you take this fucking cock.”

The organ belonging to her contracts as I stare at my wife. No, I didn’t.