what he deserved."
Her eyes turned round again, and she whispered, "I think I'd have liked that."
Pressing a kiss to her lips, I murmured, "That's why you're perfect for me."
Twenty-Two
Indy
His kiss acted as a kind of seal, like he was forcing the words into me, making me believe them like they were the gospel truth.
We. Were. Perfect. Together.
I shuddered into his kiss, shivering when his good hand moved to cup me where I needed him the most. His fingers speared between my legs, and then he was there. Those clever digits sliding between my folds, unerringly finding my clit.
His movements were languid, slow, but there was an ease to them thanks to how wet I was.
So many guys had tried to finger me and found me as dry as the fucking Sahara, but Cruz always did this to me.
Always.
I was sopping wet for him, always for him.
Only for him.
Even as I arched my back, a pleasured cry escaping my lips, I started to think if he was the miracle I'd always been waiting for.
Someone who accepted all of me, who knew all my flaws and somehow seemed to think they weren't flaws. Were, instead, something to cherish.
To love.
I winced at the thought, then I burrowed my face into the duvet because, sweet fuck, what he could do with his hand was better than anything I’d ever experienced with most guys' cocks.
Shrieking when he began to frig my clit, I arched my hips, tensing my thighs as I clung to him, and when my first orgasm walloped me right in the face, I froze against him, juddering and jittering with the released pressure as the ecstasy of coming, with a man who loved me warts and all, turbocharged everything.
My entire being was shaky with the revelation, and I almost cried as the sweet torment of release drifted through my system like it was in a maze intent on seeking the way out. But the only way out was when he was inside me.
I knew this was, after all, just the appetizer.
Shivering when he thrust two fingers into me, I arched my back as he started to fuck me. He liked doing this, and I'd have been perplexed by it if he didn't always get me off. His fingers scissored inside me, thrusting hard and fast, rough with me when I needed it, hard when I needed him to ground me.
As he rubbed down the front wall of my cunt, I cried out, so close to the prize as the delirium of what he gave me was the light at the end of the tunnel.
And then he stopped.
But not for long.
His cock was there, no barrier between us, no boxers in the way as he tunneled between my ass cheeks and found my gate.
As he slipped inside, I moaned, tilting my head down so I could bite the pillow.
As he thrust into me, filling me so fucking perfectly, I wept with the sheer beauty of it.
Just the friction of him inside me was enough to make me feel like I was at a Fourth of July fireworks display.
He was so thick, so hot, filling me so full that I'd never known perfection like it.
And that was before he bottomed out. Somehow, he seemed to get deeper than usual, and the darkness of an impending orgasm hovered over my eyes, blurring everything else as he started to thrust. Retreating almost entirely, only to thrust into me hard again, jerking me across the bed, even as he kept me clamped to him, holding me close, not letting me go.
With anyone else, the hold, the restriction, would have been a trigger.
But there was no one else in my mind. Nothing else. Just him.
Just me.
He held me tight because he needed me this tight.
He didn't let me move because he needed me right where I was.
And where I was was right where I needed to be too.
When his fingers moved to my clit and he started to thrum it in time to his thrusts, I groaned long and low as the pleasure started to bombard me. Like bullets between the eyes, the ecstasy blacked everything else out as he sent me soaring high and fast.
Taking me to a freedom that no other would ever be able to conjure, making me feel so fucking light that I knew I could soar and soar, higher than a bird, freer than one too.
As my climax hit, I screamed, unable to do anything else as the intensity of what he urged