“So I either pull out, or we start trying for a baby? Are you really ready?”
“Are you?”
“I want everything with you, Becca. I want as many kids as you want to give me. Anything I make with you in this life is a gift as long as that’s what you want.”
“I’m ready, Taylor.”
And I was. I could picture him taking our kids out to skate at the rink, teaching them how to play hockey. Protecting them. Loving them. Worshiping the family we made. After seeing him with his family in Scotland, I knew there was nothing he was more suited for. It was the thing he had been missing here in the States, but I could help with that. And I would.
Before I could say another word, his mouth was on me, sucking, teasing, tasting, and biting. His fingers followed and then worked in a rhythm with his tongue. Inside and around, over and over, until my thighs were quaking. I clenched my fingers in his hair as I came with a ragged moan on the bed, reaching a climax in less than five minutes.
“Thank you very much.”
He backed away, wiping the back of his hand over his lips before he freed himself from his sweats, gripped me under the hips, and shoved me farther back onto the bed.
Then he positioned himself between my legs, notching his cock at my entrance, spreading his thighs wide, just like I’d seen him do countless times as he stretched on the ice.
“Are you ready?”
“I’m so ready. Fill me up, Taylor.”
He rolled his hips forward and sank deep in one long thrust, and I cried out and clenched around him. The way he had to grit his teeth and close his eyes as he stilled himself to take control did things to me.
“Don’t do that if you want me to last.”
“I don’t want you to last. You have three minutes left, and then you have to go. And you can’t go see my brother-in-law smelling of my pussy.”
“If you think I’m washing you off me, you are very wrong, Mrs. Savage.”
I loved the idea that he would go around all day smelling me on him. Tasting me. He rolled his hips slowly, hitting every nerve ending on the way in and then out, and it wasn’t long before both of us were panting, close to reaching our climaxes. I dug my nails into his back and dragged him down to me so he could kiss me. As he came with a quiet, shuddering gasp of pleasure, I followed.
“I love you, Taylor. Scottish bad boy of hockey or not, you’re mine, and this arrangement we made was the greatest decision of my life.”
He held himself up on his elbows before pressing a kiss to my nose. “Who would have thought the pirate would have ended up with the pixie in the end?”
“I don’t think you’re a pirate anymore.”
“Oh, no?”
“No.”
“What am I, then?”
“One-hundred percent mine.”
“Damn right.”