“I can’t fecking slow down, Justice,” Brody grunts, one of his hands lifting to the headboard. “Best pussy of me life, lass.”
“Yesss.” I drown in him, voice fading from the intensity. As we screw in feverish agony, I beg, “Never stop, Brody.”
Our rhythm surpasses a speed greater than light. We move in tandem, tangled in each other. Our hips grind together, faster, faster, until it all comes to a shuddering halt. Wrapping me in his arms, Brody presses me against him, covering my face with kisses. “Write me a poem,” he says.
I smile, yet it morphs into a soft laugh. “To increase the size of your ego?”
“Look at me dick, Justice.” His voice is suddenly more sensual, more Scottish. “Does it look like my ego needs a boost?”
“Nope. Biggest I’ve ever seen.” I drop my hands over my embarrassed face. “Your ego, I mean.”
“Nae, ye meant the dick.” His finger trails over the soft curve of my stomach. “Tightest pussy I had too. Ya need to be conceited about that shite, lass.”
The arc of Brody’s bicep shields the flush of heat across my face. I stifle a yawn, hoping the night lasts until the end of time because come tomorrow, I’ll be lonely for Brody’s kiss. All the time I’ve spent on the run, alone in my feelings, I’ve come to value intuition. It’s like the clutch at the pit of my stomach when Ewan declared his daughter was to marry the man who brought me to ecstasy a thousand times.
I’ve also come to appreciate the small pleasures in my mundane life. I’ll relish this rollercoaster ride. The ticket expires tomorrow.