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Her whispered voice is all the confirmation I need. This woman is mine, and I’m gonna find a way to keep her.
If there was another man, he’s done now. He let her out, let her cross my path, and that’s his own fault. Because if she was mine, I’d keep her tied to my side. Literally, if necessary.
Thirty to my forty-five.
“Please don’t cry, Baby Cakes.” The pressure of his hand on my back increases. “I can’t take you crying.”
I’m sorry for making you cry. I know you don’t know a thing about me, but I’m pretty sure I’m half in love with you and I’d rather die than make you cry again.
“Fuck it,” he growls, a brief moment before his mouth closes on mine.
“Take more,” she sobs. “Take whatever you want.” Images of our life together flash through my mind. Diamond rings. A white dress. Sunny beaches. Tiny babies.
“Baby Cakes, we’re never gonna be done.”
“Good girls get sweet things. Naughty girls get it rough. And you’ve been very naughty.”
“I’m yours. And that wetness leaking out of you, soaking my cock, that marks you as mine. There’s no one else. For either of us.”
