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In my room, she is spread out on my bed. My seed is dripping out of her pretty pink pussy. She's spread out for me like the finest buffet. This girl doesn’t play, she even turned the bed down. I’m not going to lie; I like that she’s making herself right at home. If I had my way, she’d never leave. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was creeper, but to be fair, it’s her. Only her. She ruined me for another woman when she took my hand in that dark and dirty basement. With the patience of a saint, I waited for her to finish growing up. I can’t love her properly from prison. I watched from afar as she did school plays, learned how to drive. She made her life plans and I stayed away. But I can’ stay away anymore. She’s mine. She always has been. She basically moved in with my sister and her husband after the incident and became a part of our family. Trauma bonds are a real thing. Brynn felt responsible for her and fuck if I don’t feel that way now. I love her and I don’t give a flying fuck if it’s crazy or disgusting or wrong. Love isn’t really quantifiable and it never fucking fails.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she says running her hands through her hair. I swallow thickly and shake my head. “I worked up quite a sweat.” She is somehow both a sweet and sassy sex kitten with the way she’s purring right now.

“I really don’t. You belong with me. You know that don’t you?”

“I do,” she says, grinning at me.

I drop my pants and kick them along with my shoes across the room. I drop her discarded panties on the pile of clothes she took off. Can’t be leaving those in the elevator, even though I am the only one that uses the damn thing. Pulling my shirt over my head, I climb into bed with her. Lying beside her, I stoke her thigh. She reaches over to me and grips my cock. She strokes me up and down like an expert.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” I grit out. My voice is harsh.

“Am I hurting you?” she asks innocently.

“No, but no one but myself has ever touched me like this,” I admit.

“Yeah right. Have you seen you?” I stop her hands and tip her chin up so that she is looking at me.

“That was my first time too, Tiny Dancer.” She moves to get out of my bed, but I stop her. “Where do you think you are going?” Panic fills me, but I tamp that shit down. She’s not going anywhere. Ever again.

“I won’t be lied to, Bart. I just won’t be. There is nothing to be gained here,” she says.

“I swear to you I am not lying. My father told me that waiting for the woman who’d be my wife would make everything in life worthwhile. I listened to him,” I tell her. She settles back down beside me.

“Your wife huh?” she asks giggling.

“One day, Arabella. One day,” I say pulling her closer to me. Fuck. I need to be inside of her again. I need her full of my seed. I need her bred and wed as soon as fucking possible.

“Name the day and I’ll be there, Mr. Vitali,” she says rolling over so that she’s on top of me.

“Yeah?” I ask as she slides her tight pussy down my still hard cock. I have a feeling it will always be hard around her. Always.

“Absolutely. I love you.” She begins to move up and down on me and I grip her hips to keep her in place, stilling her movements.

“You have to know that I love you too, Arabella. I always have.”

“I do now. I thought you’d see me as a sister. I had no idea you felt this way, though that was probably for the best.”

“I never saw you that way.”

“I’m glad. Can I move now? I need you.”

“Fuck, babe. You’re killing me.”

“Don’t die. I need you.”

I flip her over onto her back, cock still buried inside of her.

“Marry me on Friday. Become Mrs. Vitali. My Mrs. Vitali,” I say.

“The day after tomorrow?” she asks, excitement evident in her voice.

“Yes. We have to wait a day after we get the license.” I may have already researched the law in New York for this very fucking moment.

“Friday it is,” she says, wrapping her legs around my waist. “Now, move. Please,” she begs.

“Anything for you, Tiny Dancer,” I say, kissing her.

“Can you call me something else? I don’t dance anymore. It doesn’t fit,” she says.

“Okay, anything for you, bella fantasia,” I say. It’s true, she is my beautiful fantasy.

“Okay, I like that,” she says before kissing me. Fuck, I could kiss her forever.

There’s no way I could ever resist her. I pound into her harder and harder until she screams my name. I’m a lucky man, I know that. I’m luckier than most ever will be.


Tags: M.K. Moore Romance