Page 124 of The Other Side

Her head peeks over her shoulder, and she rests a delicate palm between my unbuttoned shirt. She’s warm and soft, her flesh melting to the rippled contours of my stomach.

My fingers lift the hem of her dress, exposing her to me. “Fuck yes. Ride me, baby.”

I blow out a breath as her ass cheeks peek out of her white lace. The round globes slightly jiggle as she rocks my dick to ecstasy.

My brows crunch, and she fastens the knot of pressure tighter. Bathes me without shame.

I tuck my lower lip between my teeth, tapping the underside of her ass. “That’s it, come on,” I coax. Tap. “It’s so fucking good, baby. Make me come.” Tap.

She mewls, leaning forward to cup her palms around the denim of my calves. She teases me through doe eyes that glint with silvery flecks under the stars.

I hiss a breath in through my teeth, the new angle swirling that burden faster.

But she’s too fucking far away.

In the next breath, I cage her stomach with one arm to plant her back against my chest. She turns her head to the side, peering down at me. I rock up into her, and my eyes trace her beautiful face.

I see our future dance behind her eyes. A future I need in order to look forward to another breath of air.

She nods at my silent perusal, sinking a hand between her legs. She gyrates her body over me, and my mouth parts. Our eyes lock as she plays with her clit, brewing my climax to the surface at the same time.

“I-I’m ovulating,” she breathes.

Her voice quivers through the panicked confession. But there’s also a hidden plea sewn into it. Her gaze is coated with pleasure and anguish, and I hook my hands under her thighs.

I lift and spread them, Callie’s face tensing as I staple her in this position. “Then look at me when I give you our baby,” I whisper.

She hiccups on a breath, the shock of my statement settling into her.

“We’ll do it right this time,” I rasp. “For them. For us.”

I’m melodically pumping into her. It’s steady.

Thoughtful.

The toes of her pink cowboy boots scrape the floor of the pickup bed. Her fingers continue to work her clit, and she rocks her hips with me. Matching my tempo before she’s impatient.

Her perfect pussy squeezes me on each upstroke, and my uttered promise springs her next orgasm into motion.

“Oh god,” she moans. “Fuck!”

Her legs buck chaotically, and I glue my palms at the apex of her thighs. Holding her open. “Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move,” I chant breathlessly, fearful she’ll slip off me. “You’re okay. You can take it.”

My gaze cements to hers, and she drains every ounce of me.

She pulses just as I jerk inside of her, my crinkled brows reflecting her own. I fill her with ropes of my hot pleasure, my hands snugly caging her inner thighs so she has nowhere to go.

Her upper body thunders with satisfaction, her face painted in awe. Like I’m injecting her with hope of a better life than all of this.

Her palms find the top of my hands on her thighs, and I decelerate my pumps. Our damp and clammy skin grates under the star-dusted sky as we manifest this new fate.

We ride the final swells, her stray locks tickling her cheeks as we do.

She slumps her back into my torso. Our heaving breaths intertwine in the fresh breeze, and her hand brushes over my head.

Her nails graze my scalp, only to whisper the three words I’ve waited to return to me.

“I love you.”