Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Let me see you, Danae. Don’t hold back.”
That little encouragement is all she needs. She sits up over me, back arched, tits pert as I press my fingers into her hips and rock her over me. Up, down, all around, she moves and it is fucking stunning.
Every inch of her is beauty. Every noise coming from her is a motherfucking symphony.
I feel it building as I watch her slide up my shaft and back down, my cock disappearing inside her. I throw my head back in ecstasy. The walls of her pussy tighten and release. Feeling my climax building, I slid my right hand down between us, pressing my thumb against her clit rubbing in small circles. The urgency builds from her as the rhythm becomes unsteady.
“Come on, Danae, I’m close, baby, you gotta come.” She drops her head to mine, our lips collide and teeth clank as I feel her tighten, freeze, and I’ll be damned if she doesn’t draw every ounce of come from my body up into her womb as her own climax washes over us both.
She collapses over me out of breath. My cock pulses inside her softening but I don’t want to slide out of her. This connection, her body interlocked with mine settles something inside me I can’t explain.
After we both return to regularly breathing, I kiss her softly before finally sliding out of her.
“Dixon,” my name on her lips has me getting hard again. “I didn’t come here for that. I want you to know I’m not normally like this.”
I laugh, “baby, believe it or not, neither am I. But something about you, I can’t get enough.”
Casually I run my hands up and down the soft flesh of her back before eventually getting up and leading her to my bedroom. In there, I pull her close to kiss her like I mean it. Not for things to go farther, but because I want to taste her again. Her hands slide up my stomach and chest to my neck, her fingers moving slowly like she’s memorizing me. Maybe she is.
In my bed, we have sex again. Slow, grounding, calming all the things inside me. I feel full. I can’t put it into words, but something about her in my personal space being just us takes away every bit of need to breathe right out of me. I feel content. Settled.
And I don’t know how to process that. So I choose to stay in the moment. Her in my arms, satisfied.
She falls asleep against me like it’s natural. Like she’s always belonged there. I wake before dawn, instinctively, the way I always do. And she’s still here. Her hair is tangled against my chest, her breath warm, her body heavy with sleep and trust. The sight of her like this—unafraid, unguarded—hits me harder than any ride ever has.
This is it, something inside me whispers. Not the road. Not the miles.
This.
I don’t move. Don’t even breathe too deeply. I just lay here and let myself want it, let myself feel the terrifying, grounding truth settle in. For the first time in my life, waking up somewhere doesn’t make me want to leave.
It makes me want to stay.
Morning is completely different when I don’t wake up alone. I don’t rush it. Don’t slip out of bed like I usually do, quiet as a ghost. Danae is still asleep when I finally ease up on one elbow, shifting from under her. I let myself look.
Really look.
This isn’t a woman passing through my life. My gut knows that, even if my brain hasn’t caught up yet. The road dog in me—the part that’s always itching to move—stays silent. No pull. No restlessness. Just a strange, steady calm I don’t trust but don’t want to let go of either.
Eventually she stirs, blinks up at me like she’s orienting herself to a new world.
“Morning,” she murmurs.
“Morning,” I say with a damn smirk because this shit feels good in a way I can’t put into words.
She smiles, small and real, and that’s enough to wreck me for the rest of the day. “Probably should start the day, buddy.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “Buddy? That’s what I am?”
She shrugs, “yeah, it was fun. You can be my buddy. But life is life, friend, and I have a cousin to get back to.”
The ease between us is nice, but I can’t help but notice the way my gut knots up being called her buddy and friend. Why? I don’t know. I’ve never cared what any woman called me, from being a God in bed to an asshole, it was all the same to me. So why does her boxing me up into this weird space piss me off a little bit?
We head over to Raff’s late morning. Danae insists on bringing coffee, because that’s who she is—never shows up empty-handed, never walks into a house without thinking about what the people inside might need.