But damn it… I’ve never stopped loving August. I love him as much today as I did years ago. And it’s hard not to notice how great he feels pressed against me. He has filled out—in all the right places—and it has been so long since a man touched me.
Almost ten years to be exact. The last time was in my childhood bedroom—with August—as we promised we’d be together forever while he’d been deep inside me.
Add that August just gave me the happiest news I could ever hope to receive to my overwhelming memories… and it equals up to my emotions and rationality being a jumbled hot mess right now.
I look up slowly—warily—and what I see on his face stuns me.
Pure desire. There isn’t a single fleck of recrimination or bitterness, even though he must feel those emotions toward me.
Immediately, yearning pools between my legs as memories of us hit me. Fueled by a near-hysterical gratitude that Sam now has a donor, my reaction is a recipe for all the wrong decisions.
When August’s mouth slams onto mine, I don’t regret it one bit. Maybe I will tomorrow, but not tonight.
Lust sizzles around us, seeming to cradle us in an electric cocoon as his tongue invades my mouth. If I open my eyes, I almost bet I’ll see brilliant sparks igniting—that’s how charged his kiss feels—but I don’t dare. I don’t want to break the spell or ruin one bit of this moment. Instead, I keep my lids scrunched tight and let myself get lost in the sensations.
August’s hands are everywhere. Roaming from my face, to my shoulder, then stroking my arm before wrapping his fingers around my throat for a breath-stealing instant. After a quick squeeze, he moves to pull me possessively against his chest. Whether time has dulled some memories, or else been really good to August, it seems he has filled out in other areas as well. He’s impossibly big—hard and throbbing—and I can’t help but rub wantonly against his erection.
He groans into my mouth. Where I want to smile triumphantly that I can elicit such a reaction from him, I can do nothing but gasp as I’m picked up and roughly tossed onto one of the beds. I bounce, the breath knocked out of me, but, before I can recover, my head starts to spin as August systematically strips me out of my clothes. It’s incredibly titillating, his look of almost feral possession when he yanks my tank over my head and exposes my breasts. Briefly, modesty strikes and I consider covering them, but I lose the opportunity when he quickly rips my sleep shorts down my legs, dragging my panties right along with them.
I’m naked, splayed on the bed, with August breathing heavily as he stares down. His gaze slowly roams over my body, and I wonder if he notices the stretchmarks I got from carrying his son. When he focuses on the area between my thighs, I practically combust as his hands frantically work to unbuckle his belt.
There’s an unholy light in August’s eyes, his jaw locked tight as if he’s fighting for a measure of control. I can’t help but be mesmerized by the way he slowly undoes his top button, then lowers his zipper past his monstrous erection. I get a glimpse of the elastic waistband of his black briefs before he reaches inside and pulls out his cock.
I melt into the bed at the sight. It’s dusky rose—slightly curved upward and mapped with a big vein along the underside. A bead of precum pearls on the tip, and my mouth waters. I have the insanely foolish urge to flip to my hands and knees, crawl across the mattress, and beg him for a taste.
But insecurity starts to set in because August doesn’t appear all that happy for a man with his dick in hand and a naked woman on the bed before him.
My legs start to slide toward each other, a warm blush rising up my chest and into my neck.
This was a bad idea.
“Don’t,” August growls so menacingly I instantly freeze. His eyes travel up my body, locking onto mine. “Don’t move.”
Head tipping down, he squeezes his eyes shut. His lips move silently, and I’m not sure if he’s having a discussion with himself or perhaps praying to God for guidance.
My heart starts a fearful drumming, but then August’s eyes open. Any doubt he may have been suffering is gone. Once again, yearning, need, and determination flashes across his face. Nothing is going to stop him now.
Always one to lead, the one to demand and show me the way, August grabs my ankles, gives a mighty pull, and yanks my ass to the edge of the bed. Before I can even wonder about his intentions, his mouth is between my legs. At first, major embarrassment to have him so intimately connected to me rushes over me. I wonder about stupid things—like how well-groomed I am, if I smell good, and if my taste is good enough for him. Struggling to remember how long ago I last showered, I wonder if I should be polite and say what he’s doing isn’t necessary?
Those beautiful, glorious moments of intimacy I’d had with him all those years ago fly out the window, essentially meaning nothing right now. I’m so overwhelmed that I can’t scrounge up a lick of confidence.
It’s a good thing August doesn’t have that problem. If anything, he has more than enough for the both of us. Even though I tentatively put my hands on his head and give it a tiny push, August still buries his face between my thighs with gusto. He licks and sucks away, slipping his fingers deep inside me he works at my clit so expertly—with such hunger—I feel myself starting to tighten up everywhere. My back arches off the bed, my hips lift, and I gyrate against his mouth. I swear I hear him chuckle, maybe even feel him shake his head, but then he’s gone, nothing but cool air blowing across my wet, sensitive flesh.
Barely getting my eyes open, I find August looming over me. How did my legs get spread so wide… and why does he suddenly look so freaking big?
With one hand pressed into the mattress, August uses the other to take his cock in hand. He dips his hips, pressing the tip right to my entrance. Blowing out a breath, he brings his eyes to mine and holds me captive. I want to smile and assure him everything is perfect, but then my eyes practically cross when he thrusts deeply into me.
I scream—not in pain but in pure fucking ecstasy—as he fills me up. August bottoms out, his pelvis pressed hard into mine.
Baring his teeth, he mutters, “Fuck… that feels good.”
If I could speak, I’d probably say something similar, but nothing seems to work. I can’t move. All I can do is lay there while impaled on his thick shaft, feeling pulses of pleasure take away every bit of my sanity.
Trapped beneath his weight, feeling the perfection of him inside me, I know I’d let him do anything he wanted to me. It’s been so long. We used to have the world… but then I hurt him by taking it all away.
If it gave him some measure of peace for all I’ve put him through, I’d let him take everything from me. Let him do his worst over and over again.
August’s hand moves from where he’d been gripping the base of his dick to wrap his arms around me—engulfing me in a cocoon of an embrace until I’m pressed chest to chest with him. It’s not an intimately romantic gesture. Rather, he wants to take away any chance of participation I might have. I’m tangled in his web, stuck on his cock, and completely submissive to him right now.
August starts to fuck me. A few slow, deep strokes that have me keening low in my throat. He’s so big that I’m stretched to capacity.
He pounds harder into me, the insides of my legs straining to accommodate him. His cock dominates me, his arms pinning me to him. He punches deeper and deeper, rough grunts coming from deep inside his chest with every stroke.