Bane tipped his head so their foreheads touched, lips a fraction of an inch from hers. “I’ll take anythin’ you give me, baby.” His dick lined itself up with her entrance, notching into place as if it knew it was home. He rolled his hips and pushed inside slowly, not stopping until he’d seated himself deep with a single stroke. “You want your sweet William in bed with you, I can be sweet.” An arched back for the withdrawal pressed his belly against hers, and he felt the tiny rounded bump that was the baby. “You want a little rough and rowdy, I can be your Bane, too. I’ll be whatever you need, Myrt. Just—” He rolled his hips, faster, thrusting in and pulling back, growing the rhythm she set each time she met his movements. “—baby, you just need to need me.” That felt like a vulnerable statement, maybe too vulnerable for this early, and he closed his mouth, pressing a kiss to her lips.
“I’m going to always need you. You should know by now.” Each breath ghosted over his lips, and he wanted to kiss her hard, derail whatever words she was about to say. “Bane—William, you’re both to me. My lover, my protector, my friend, my partner.” He hadn’t moved fast enough, and she’d gotten out every word, all of it, enough to shut him up for a long breath. Her head tipped back, and he attacked the side of her neck with his teeth and lips, gliding his tongue along the taut tendons as she chased her pleasure. “I won’t ever not need you. Oh, please.”
Pushing up on his arms, he stared down at her as she fell over the edge, body writhing, hips lifting to meet every thrust inside her. The muscles of her pussy clamped down, and he was losing the fight for control, balls drawing up tight to his body as sparks danced up and down his spine. He curled himself around her again, arm shoved under her shoulders, face buried in the pillow as he pounded harder, deeper.
“Please, Bane.” Her mouth was next to his ear, words scarcely audible over the rapid slapping of flesh on flesh filling the room.
He grabbed her leg, hooking her knee over his hip, driving himself a little deeper. The need to bury himself inside her and never come out was strong, and he centered his thoughts around the give of her breasts against his chest, the tender strength in her hands as she held tight to him, the heat and silk-slick sensation of sliding in and out—the orgasm took him by storm, rolling over him so his rhythm stuttered and he held, thrust deep, and then stilled, trapped in the paroxysm of desire.
Mine.
The single powerful thought rocketed around inside his head as she lifted her other leg, wrapping her heels around his ass and pulling him tighter against her. She had him cradled to her—arms, legs, even the angle of her head had him willingly trapped, every movement showing him her love. The emotional connection would have been loud and clear even if she’d never said the words, and he knew in that moment everything he’d been feeling and thinking was right. They were destined for each other. His whole life he’d been looking, wandering place to place, trying to fill a hole with his brothers and the club—all it took was one petite woman to get him all wrapped up in knots, and slot herself inside him in a way that meant he was never gonna let her go.
“My peace, baby. You’re my peace. Mine.” His gusting breaths stirred the hair at the side of her head. Panting hard, trying to slow his heart, he eased them onto their sides so he didn’t crush her. “Don’t want to let go yet, Myrt. Hold on with me.”
“You’re mine, too. I’m holdin’ on, my lands yes. Holdin’ on.” She panted and rested her head on the pillow, staring straight into his eyes as she breathed out exactly the words he’d hoped to hear. “Mine, and this baby’s. You’re our hope and future. I’m depending on you, Bane, but you know what?”
“What, baby?”
“I know you won’t ever let us go. There’s a peace in that, too. So I guess you’re my shelter.” She sighed softly. “My solace.” Her breath hitched. “Momma woulda told me to find my answers in the Bible. I pick Job chapter sixteen, verse five.”