When I'm Gone(74)

Lifting my legs up so his thrust went deeper, I felt him rub something inside me, and I instantly shot off into the brightest explosion I’d ever felt. His name tore from my lips, and I locked my legs around him and held on so I didn’t fall away.

His body shook as he shouted my name. As he jerked above me, I peeled open my eyes to see his eyes closed tightly and his head thrown back. Sweat had broken out on his forehead, and a small drop rolled down his face and landed on me.

When he finally opened his eyes, he looked directly at me. “I can’t apologize for that, because, God, Reese, I swear, angels just sang, and this house just rocked on its foundation.”

Smiling, I ran my hands through his damp hair and pulled his mouth down to mine. “What would you apologize for?” I asked against his lips.

“For coming inside you,” he said in a whisper.

He was still inside me. I’d been so lost in the aftermath of heaven that I hadn’t realized it.

“Oh,” I replied.

“When you locked your legs, I tried to hold off until you finished, but you’re so tight. And you’re so damn gorgeous when you get off. And you squeezed me like a glove, baby. I was coming before I realized it.”

I wasn’t ruining this moment because we’d forgotten ourselves. “Mase, that was . . . that was more . . . more than I ever imagined.”

He rolled over onto his back, still buried inside of me. I liked that he wasn’t in a hurry to leave me. I wanted him as close as possible. I was now on top of him. “I love you. You’re my world. But there are two things running a really close second,” he said in a serious tone. “Those long legs of yours and that tight little pussy are going to own me if you’re not careful,” he added with a teasing grin.

Laughing, I kissed him. Because he was mine.





Mase


I had written my address with a Sharpie on each box, now stacked by Reese’s front door. She was busy cleaning the now-empty fridge. Jimmy had just left after tearfully hugging her during their good-bye.

He’d done just as I asked. He’d been there for her. He had kept her safe. And I owed the man one. I wasn’t sure how I would repay him, but I would. Somehow.

Reese bent over, distracting me as her shorts rode up her legs and flashed my favorite freckle at me. “Freckle, baby. You want to finish that without my mouth on your ass, then don’t bend over,” I warned her, as I closed the door and stalked around the boxes toward her.

She stood up and swung around to grin at me. “Sorry. I had to clean the bottom of the fridge.”

“Don’t apologize. I’ve decided I want to kiss that ass. Bend back over,” I said, with a wicked grin.

Reese backed up, putting her hands in front of her to stop me. “No. We will never get out of here if you don’t stop it. We’ve had sex on the sofa, in bed, over the bar, and on the dresser. And it’s only been like thirty-six hours since we got here. We will never finish.”

I grabbed her hands and tugged her to me, careful not to hurt her. “Baby, whose pussy is this?” I asked, sliding my hand down the front of her shorts.

“Yours,” she said on a sigh.

My possessive monster roared to life. “That’s right. And I want to play with my pussy. And hear my girl scream my name.”

Reese’s eyes glazed over, and her breathing hitched. I knew I had her. She was so easy to convince. The first few times, I had been careful and taken our time. Made sure she was with me and that she knew I worshipped her and would never hurt her.

She didn’t need that anymore. All I had to do was talk dirty, and she was melting up against me, ready for me to do whatever I wanted. Again, this woman made me feel like the king of the world.

A knock on the door stopped me from pulling her shirt up and sucking on her tits. I fought back, muttering a curse, because it was probably someone else come to tell her good-bye. Reese needed to know she would be missed. That more people here cared about her than just Jimmy. And for that reason alone, I kept from complaining.

“I’ll get it. Miss Popular has more guests,” I teased her.

Her musical laugh followed me.

I jerked open the door, expecting to see someone I knew, but instead, I was greeted by a tall, distinguished-looking man dressed in what I knew was an Armani custom suit because I had one for special events. His black hair and olive skin made me think he was Italian. There was something about the way his eyes were shaped. They were brown but familiar.

“Does a Reese Ellis reside here?” he asked, his accent not as thick as I was expecting. He kind of reminded me of the Hollywood version of a Mafia lord.

“She did,” I replied, not liking that this man knew Reese’s name and was looking for her.