Page 61 of Always Been His

“You feel that?” I ask her, and she makes a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a moan. “That’s me inside you. That’s my cock stretching you open. Tell me how it feels.”

“So full,” she whispers. Her thighs flex as she rises, then sinks again. “I can feel you everywhere…”

“Want more?” I release one of her braids and bring my hand to her clit, and the moment my thumb presses against her, she gasps. “Is that what you want, my beautiful girl?”

“Yes.” She moves faster, her breathing growing shallow as I work the softened nub between her legs harder.

The lavender crushes under my shoulders and the lupine bends at her back, and she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Her breasts, her stomach, the way her hips roll, the way her braids swing forward and I catch them again, both my hands in her hair now, anchoring her to me.

“That’s my good girl,” I say, and she whimpers. “You like that? Being called my good girl?”

“I love it.” She’s panting. Her rhythm falters, and I know she’s close when her thighs start to tremble against my hips.

Then she looks down at me, and there’s a spark in her eye that I recognize. The challenge.

“Is that all you’ve got?” She grinds down hard and stops, holding me deep. “Good girl? I thought you had a repertoire.”

Something snaps in my chest.

The growl that comes out of me isn’t planned. It’s not controlled. It’s pure instinct, and before she can react, I’m moving. I flip her onto her stomach in one motion, and she gasps, but I’m already behind her, pulling her hips up, positioning myself again at her entrance.

“What did you say?” I ask her, and my voice is a rumble against her ear.

She shivers. “I said⁠—”

“I know what you said.” I push into her from behind, and this time I don’t go slow. This time I fill her completely, and her hands scramble for purchase in the crushed flowers, and she cries out. My fingers tangle in her braids again, pulling her head back gently, exposing the long line of her throat and arching her spine. “You wanted my repertoire? Here it is.”

I move, hard and deep and relentless.

“You’re so tight like this,” I murmur against her ear. “So wet for me. You feel that? Feel how deep I am?”

“Grayson, oh God…”

“Not God.” I lean forward, my balls bouncing off her thighs. “Just me. Just the man who’s been in love with you for as long as I can remember. Just the man who’s going to make you come so hard you forget your own name.”

“Please,” she says, desperate. “Please, Grayson, please…”

My free hand slides around her hip, finds her clit, and I press in tight circles while I keep thrusting, and her whole body goes rigid.

“Come for me,” I say against her neck. “Come on my cock, Sienna. Let me feel it.”

She fucking detonates, grinding against me as she races past the finish line and still wanting more.

Her cry echoes across the field, her body clenching around me, her braids pulling taut in my grip, and I watch her face in profile, the way her mouth shapes my name, the way her eyes squeeze shut and then fly open. She is every good thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I bury myself deep and let go, groaning her name into the curve of her shoulder, my body juddering violently as I reach my climax and fill her up.

We collapse forward and stay like that, breathing hard, tangled in flowers and each other while time ceases to exist.

Then she laughs. A startled, breathless, beautiful laugh.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay. That was…”

“Yeah…” I pull out gently and roll onto my back beside her. My chest is heaving, my legs are weak, and I have never been happier.

She rolls toward me, supporting herself on one elbow. We’re both naked, glistening with sweat, and smelling like crushed lavender and sex. She looks up, and I follow her gaze.

The stars are out. A million of them, scattered across the sky like someone threw a handful of diamonds and just left them there.

“Look at that,” she whispers.