She was beautiful underneath me, the sexiest woman that had ever had her legs wrapped around my waist. She refrained from moving with me because she was forbidden to, so she let me make love to her. Every time she took my cock, she took a deep breath. Every time I hit her in the right spot, she forgot to breathe altogether.
“I love you…” She breathed into my mouth, her eyes open and looking into mine. Her devotion was the biggest turn-on because she meant it. She wasn’t saying the right things to turn me on. Everything that came out of her mouth also came from her heart.
“I love you, baby.” I pushed deep inside her before I pulled out again. My hips wanted to buck and I wanted to slam into the headboard with force, but my heart slowed everything down. I could only take her easy, make love to her without moving her at all. The restraint didn’t hurt the sex. It enhanced it because it made it more meaningful. I could go downtown and find a woman who would give me wild sex for the night, but that didn’t sound the least bit appealing.
It was nothing compared to what I had now.
What I had was perfect.
She came, her thighs squeezing my waist hard. “Diesel…yes.” Her cheeks filled with color and her mouth gaped open as the moans poured out. Even if she was dead silent, her pussy expressed her emotions for her. She squeezed me tightly with a grip that rivaled a snake’s.
Every time she squeezed my cock like that, I wanted to come.
I wanted to come hard.
She pulled on the panties again.
I growled in her face.
She relaxed again, riding out the rest of the orgasm. Her head rolled back, her nipples hardened, and her moans stretched on for another minute.
I watched her with fascination, feeling more like a man for making my woman come like that.
When she finished, she opened her eyes again, full of pleasure from the satisfaction of that orgasm. “I want your come, Diesel.”
“I want to make you come again.”
“You will…but I want it first. I want your seed inside me…feels so good.”
My spine tightened. All the muscles in my back shifted as they contracted against my bones. Nerves fired off as the words circulated directly in my blood. She was the only woman who had taken my come, and I loved giving it to her.
My pumps continued as my dick hardened. I thickened further, my breaths turning labored with intensity. My hand snaked into her hair, and I secured my grip on her even though she wasn’t going anywhere.
“Diesel, give it to me…”
The second I heard those words, I was done. I came inside her, stuffing her with mounds of my arousal. I breathed against her mouth as it all released, filling her tiny pussy. It felt even better every time I did it. “Tatum…”
She softened underneath me as she felt the weight of my come. “I want more.”
My come was already seeping out of her entrance and dripping onto the sheets. She couldn’t handle the amount I gave her, but she wanted to be stuffed with more—over and over. “Then I’ll give you more.”
The clock on the wall said it was four a.m.
I was in the living room, sitting in my sweatpants as I stared at the blank TV screen. A scotch was in front of me, and I took a few sips to wash away the nightmare that still burned behind my eyes.
I tried to forget it.
Nightmares didn’t happen often for me.
But now they didn’t stop.
Tatum never survived in my dreams. She wasn’t quick enough to push the gun away, and she bled out on the floor of her lobby. I always stood near the doorway and watched the scene. Not once did I try to help. I stood by and did nothing, not because I was scared, but because I couldn’t move.
I didn’t save her.
I watched Bruce Carol shoot her in the face. I watched the smoke rise from the hot gun.
And I didn’t do a damn thing.
I dragged my hands down my face before I drank my scotch again. The sleep was still behind my eyes, and if I didn’t stay awake, I feared I would slip back into the nightmare. I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. The only entertainment that had no meaning was sports, so I watched a replay of a game that aired earlier that day.
And I kept drinking.
“Diesel?”
I turned to the hallway and saw Tatum standing there in my t-shirt. Her hair was messy from tossing and turning in bed, and her eyes were lidded from interrupted sleep. I’d been sitting there for a while, so she must have woken up when she realized my massive size was no longer acting as her personal heater. There was no hiding the scotch in front of me—or the disturbed look in my eyes.
She walked to the couch as she ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face so she could get a better look at me. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah…just couldn’t sleep.”
Her gaze intensified, calling my bluff without saying a single word. She had this natural ability to say her thoughts with just her expression. Her irritation filled the living room, and it continued to build as the silence stretched on.
I gave her the truth since she could see through my bullshit. “Nightmare.”
She came around the couch and sat beside me, my shirt still reaching her knees even with her body bent. All of my clothes looked like blankets around her petite frame, but she somehow looked
