“That’s it,” he murmurs. He kisses my cheek softly. “Take all of me.”
When he bottoms out, I whimper. His response isn’t much more composed, just a guttural snarl that rumbles up from somewhere deep in his chest and ripples through every point where our bodies are fused together.
As soon as he’s all the way in, though, he stills.
His forehead drops to mine. We breathe the same air, share the same thumping pulse, exist in the same trembling, suspended second while my body adjusts to the impossible reality of all of him.
“I’m not pulling out tonight,” he decides.
My eyes snap wide. The words land somewhere between my ribs and my ovaries and does wild, heinous things to everything it touches.
“I mean it, Rae. I want to fill you up. I want to get you pregnant.”
I’m skewered on him and I
