Page 106 of Filthy Fae

Waylon bit down on his lip again, gripping the headboard and bracing his knees on the bed, ramming into the very depths of me. A charge went through me like nothing I’d ever felt before when his eyes locked on mine. He drove into me again, and again, and again. I wrapped my arms around his neck, hanging on while he ripped into me with that massive cock, driving my head against the headboard. I didn’t care anymore. I could feel the connection of not just our bodies but our eyes, our souls.

“I’m gonna come,” I blurted out.

“You’d fucking better,” he said. With a giant thrust, he drove me against the headboard, his cock throbbing painfully huge inside me. A rush of warmth filled me, and I cried out, never letting my gaze leave his. My walls clenched around him, gripping him in my depth while waves of ecstasy rolled through my body. Waylon let out a guttural cry, his cock throbbing as it spurted into my pussy again and again.

“Fucking hell, I love you,” he said, collapsing onto me at last.

Heat and tenderness swelled between my legs, where my pussy still pulsed around his cock. He didn’t pull out, but let me feel his cock throbbing in answer, squeezing every last drop of come into me.

7

Amber

When I’d recovered enough to speak, I said, “The feeling is entirely mutual.” And then I burst into tears. When I say I cried, I don’t mean cute little sniffles or silent tears. I mean big, heaving, ugly-cry sobs.

Waylon stiffened and muttered a curse under his breath. “Did I hurt you? I’ve never made a woman cry while I was still inside her.”

“No,” I managed, pushing at his chest until he rolled away.

He stood up from the bed and pulled on his jeans. “Let me call Holden.”

“No,” I sobbed, shaking my head.

Waylon stood by the bed, looking panicked as I curled into a ball and hiccupped and writhed. “Should I go?”

“No,” I said. “Haven’t you ever seen someone cry before?”

“I usually try to look the other way.”

“Well, I’m not one of your brothers,” I said through my tears. “If you’re going to have a girlfriend, you better learn to comfort her when she’s crying.”

“You want me to comfort you?” Waylon asked. I wasn’t a big crier, so this hadn’t been an issue since I arrived. I might have shed a few tears on Holden now and then when my mom was busy abandoning me, but otherwise, I’d kept my cool the majority of the time.

I nodded, more tears spurting from my eyes when Waylon sank onto the edge of the bed and awkwardly patted my shoulder. He cleared his throat. “This comes more naturally to my brothers. Are you sure I can’t call them?”

“No,” I blubbered. “I just need you to hold me.”

He swung his feet up and lay down beside me, wrapping me in his strong arms and pulling me against his long, lean body. “Do you want me to ask what’s wrong?”

“Not if it’s such a burden to you,” I said, angry all over again.

“It’s not a burden,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

“How about my mother disowned me? She won’t even let me visit for Christmas. Apparently, I’m a liability. And my best friend isn’t coming here, which means I won’t see her, either, and now that I’ve moved to the middle of nowhere, we might never see each other again, and I have no one else to talk to. I never thought we’d grow apart, but I think we are.”

A fresh wave of sobs wracked my body.

“That’s a lot on your shoulders,” Waylon said, holding me against his chest.

“And oh yeah, I invited your brother here by accident and now you’re mad at me, and I burnt the cookies.”

“Those were supposed to be cookies?” Waylon asked.

I cried even harder.

“I’m not mad at you,” Waylon said quietly.

“I knew what I was getting when I agreed to this, and I’m grateful, don’t get me wrong. I know you’re giving me a lot. I just didn’t realize what I’d be giving up.”