“It’s just… You’re so damn big. And I’ve never been with anyone who is so…well-endowed.” A flash of vulnerability lit up her gray eyes for a moment before she reached out and touched her soft fingertips to the tip of my pulsing cock.
“We don’t have to do this,” I told her even as sweat beaded down my back. “There is plenty of fun in what we’re doing right now.”
“No!” she answered with an adamant shake of her head, causing her glossy black hair to fall over her tits. “I want you. All of you.”
I got to my feet then bent to lift her into my arms. She squealed, wrapping her arms around my neck as I carried her into the bedroom. “I would have been all too happy to spend the night licking your pussy, my Mila, but I’m so fucking glad you want more.”
Placing her in the center of the king-sized bed, I followed her down. She spread her thighs, and it felt like she was welcoming me home. I kissed her, letting her taste herself on my lips and tongue. She was sweeter than a Georgia peach, her honey already making her thighs damp all over again.
Her skin was petal-soft. I could have happily spent a lifetime skimming my fingertips over every square inch, counting each freckle that graced her body.
Pressing her hands to my chest, she shoved me back, and I went willingly. She climbed up over me, straddling my thighs, and trailed kisses from my neck to my chest. I could feel her pebble-hard nipples rubbing against me and cupped each one in my hands. She was not small, but she didn’t fill up my entire hand either.
She was simply perfection—in every way.
Somehow, I held on to my control and didn’t roll her beneath me again. She was nervous, and I couldn’t blame her. I’d always had to be careful so I didn’t accidentally hurt anyone. And if I hurt her, it would kill me.
I let her have her fun exploring my body, rubbing herself against me. I was barely holding on, but I would have done it for hours if I needed to.
Then juicy lips wrapped around the head of my cock. Her tongue swirled around the tip, and I prayed. “Baby, please,” I choked out. I’d never begged a girl before, but fuck, I was at that moment. I needed to feel her pussy surrounding my shaft, needed to be balls deep inside her wonderland before I snapped and fucked her so hard she wouldn’t be able to walk for days.
With a whimper, she wrapped her hand around the base of my cock as much as she could and started to lower herself onto me. She was so wet, so soft, so fucking tight. I reached my hands above my head, knotting my fingers together when I didn’t find anything to hold on to, trying to keep from reaching for her and impaling her on my cock so I could feel all of her stretched around my girth.
Slowly, inch by torturous inch, Mila glided down then lifted. Each downward stroke of her pussy gave her a little more as she fucked herself on my cock. Her moans were driving me closer to the edge of insanity; the way her inner walls were already contracting told me she was close to coming again.
With a soft cry, she finally seated herself fully. Sweat was rolling down her brow and glistening on her chest. When I licked my lips, I tasted the salt of my own sweat and prayed I didn’t pass out when I came because I knew it was going to be cataclysmic.
“Ah fuck, Lyric. I can feel all of you. You’re so damn big. It hurts, but it feels so fucking amazing.” She rocked her hips, and I silently begged the world to stay on its axis for just a little longer. Just until she came again, and I felt her cream flooding over my cock.
I focused on her face, the way her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink and her eyes were bright and glittery. She pressed her hands against my abs, steadying herself, and when she rocked her hips again, her head fell back, causing her hair to tickle my thighs as she cried out my name. “Lyric!”
Her release hit her then, causing her inner muscles to lock around my shaft so hard I couldn’t breathe through the pleasure for a few seconds. Her nails bit into my abs, but I didn’t feel the sharp sting. When her pussy released its stranglehold on my cock, she slumped forward, dropping onto my chest and gasping for air.
And I couldn’t hold back another moment. Locking my arms around her back, I thrust up into her over and over until I exploded deep inside her. A soft, contented mewl leaving her was the last thing I remembered as I fell into darkness from the best orgasm of my fucking life.
◆◆◆
When I opened my eyes again, the room felt empty. Lifeless.
Groaning, I lifted my head and looked dazedly at the digital clock beside the bed.
Noon.
“Fuck,” I groaned and sat up. “Mila? Babe, you hungry?”
Getting no response, I walked naked into the sitting room, only to find it empty. The clothes I’d taken off her the night before—or rather, during the early hours of the morning—were gone.
And there, on the floor where it must have fallen when I’d picked her up to take her to bed, was the wrapped condom.
“Motherfuck!” I half yelled, half whispered as I picked up the foil packet.
We’d been so lost in the moment, neither of us had thought about protection. That never happened. I always gloved up. Always. I’d never been so desperate to be inside a girl that I didn’t protect us both.
But apparently, there was a first time for everything.
Scrubbing my free hand over my face, I searched for my phone. I needed to call her, make sure she was okay. And warn her. I was clean; there was nothing for her to worry about when it came to that, but…
What if I’d gotten her pregnant?
That question filtered through my mind as I finally found my phone, and I was surprised it didn’t make me break out in a cold sweat. Yeah, I was freaking out a little, but not because the idea of Mila having my baby scared me. I wouldn’t say I was a hundred percent ready to be a father, but I wouldn’t be upset if she did get pregnant.
Snatching up the phone, I unlocked it and pulled up my contacts.
Only to realize I didn’t have her fucking number.
She was gone, and I had no way of contacting her. A feeling of complete helplessness pressed down on my chest, and I sucked in a deep breath.
A pained, rage-filled roar left me, and I fell to my knees.
Chapter 8
Mila
I shifted on the church pew and bit back a whimper when even that slight movement caused me discomfort. Mom caught me grimacing and lifted a questioning brow at me.
I quickly looked away, pretending I didn’t see her gray eyes filling with understanding. She was my mother, for fuck’s sake—of course, she knew why I’d come through the front door of the Vitucci mansion at seven that morning. My hair was wild from only finger-combing the tangles out of it, and my clothes were so wrinkled there was no way she could come to any other conclusion but that I was taking the walk of shame.
Thankfully, it was just her, Aunt Raven, and Aunt Flick who saw me, and not my dad or uncles. Dad would have blown a gasket, and I wasn’t clearheaded enough to work my way out of that kind of trouble with him.
“Take a shower, Mila,” Mom had said with a shake of her head. “And maybe take a nap. I don’t need you falling asleep during the ceremony and your dad asking questions I’ll have to lie to answer so he doesn’t ruin Tavia’s wedding.”
I’d gone up to the room I was supposed to be sharing with Monroe. She was lying in bed with the covers pulled up over her head, and I figured she was sleeping. Grabbing a change of underwear, I walked into the connecting bathroom and took a long shower.
As the smell of Lyric on my skin was washed down the drain, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. All evening, I’d continued to tell myself it was just for one night. But now that it was over, I knew I’d only been lying to myself. I missed him already.
The priest was saying a blessing over Tavia and Theo now, but I could practically hear the wheels turning in Mom’s head. I’d been walking stiffly since she’d seen me again when we were leaving for the church. Stiffly—what a laugh. I was walking like an old woman with a broken hip who’d spent the night being bucked around by a gigantic stallion.
Which was basically the same thing I’d done with Lyric, minus the broken hip, but I sure as hell was walking like I had.
Finally, Theo and Tavia were declared husband and wife, and while everyone was cheering, Mom leaned close to whisper in my ear. “Was it at least good?”
“Mom!” I grumbled, glancing at Dad. But his attention wasn’t on us. It was on Monroe, who looked like she was about to start sobbing at any second.
Forgetting about my aching body, I focused on my sister. “She’s just really happy for Tavia, Dad,” I told him, pushing a tissue into Monroe’s hands and hugging my sister to my chest. “Get it together. He’s going to start slitting throats if you cry.”
I felt her shudder, then nod before sucking in a deep breath. “I’m good,” she promised, and she turned with a weak smile for Dad. “She looks so beautiful, doesn’t she? And they’re so in l-love.” When her voice broke, Dad’s eyes grew wild. Didn’t matter if Monroe or I cried because we were happy or sad. Our tears brought out a side of Dad that had most people trembling in fear. “It was such a beautiful ceremony.”
Her answer didn’t appease Dad in the least, but he didn’t call her out on it. Instead, he only watched her closer as we left the church and went to the reception. But we wouldn’t be able to stay long.