He roared his release, his whole body bucking and juddering beneath me, his cock swelling and jerking as he buried it deep inside me. My sex clenched around him, milking him as I ground my hips down, wringing every last drop of pleasure from him until I collapsed against his chest, both of us breathing like we’d just run a marathon.
Finally, after a long moment, I roused myself enough to unclench my fingers from the back of the couch, groaning as I straightened them.
“Ow…” I grumbled, then glared up at Ian as he chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath my cheek.
“It’s your fault,” he said, smirking down at me.
I didn’t reply, choosing instead to bask in the afterglow of my orgasm. I cuddled closer to him and he wrapped his arms around me tighter, his cheek resting on the top of my head.
“I love you,” he said, softly.
I closed my eyes. “I love you, more,” I whispered back before I sighed and shifted, lifting up off of him. I shivered as I felt him slip out of me and smiled at his soft groan, leaning down to kiss him once more before going to clean up.
It’d been a month and a half since the last incident with Icktoria (Chloe came up with the new name) and, hopefully, she’d gotten the message, because we hadn’t heard anything from her. Does that mean that I breathe easy thinking that it would never happen again? Hell, no!
We’d gotten the window replaced and put a lock on the gate, plus we’d had an updated alarm system installed. I’d replaced my clothes and underwear that she’d damaged, and yes, we had a bonfire with some hellaciously expensive luggage that would probably make some people weep and question our sanity.
In fact, most of the guys had been on fire and baby duty that night, being the gracious husbands/fiancés/boyfriends they are, and we women had gotten gloriously wasted on Ice Wine, champagne, and sangria. Even Nanny had attended and had sipped a finger’s worth of champagne (she’s not supposed to be drinking), claiming that as the reason she took off her bra (underneath her shirt, thank God) and whirled it around her head as she danced around the fire.
What’s worse? My mom and Allie’s mom joined in.
So we couldn’t be left out, right? And there may or may not be a video swimming around a phone somewhere that I just know is gonna end up on YouTube. My brother’s a dick sometimes. A funny one, but one nonetheless, and he lives to torture us. Add in the chance to torture our Mom? It’s inevitable. I just thank God that Calland was nice to me at my graduation party. He almost didn’t live to see the end of Emma’s…poor girl. But still, that video is going to come back to haunt us…
Ian walked into the bathroom while I was getting in the shower, breaking me free from my thoughts. I couldn’t help the thrill that shot through me at the sight of his naked body, impressive in all ways, even when things were…let’s just say sleeping.
“You okay? You were taking forever,” he said, conversationally, as he opened up the shower door and pushed me back, stepping into the enclosure with me.
I quirked my eyebrow at him and reached for the shampoo.
He took it from me, squirted some in his palm, and then spun me around before sinking his fingers into my hair, gently massaging my head as he worked up a lather. I moaned and let my head fall back, giving myself over to his ministrations.
“So, do we have plans today?” he continued speaking, rinsing my hair carefully under the spray and moving on to conditioner.
“Umm…” I mumbled, unable to think right then. “I don’t think so…”
He rinsed my hair once more, and when he was done, I leaned back into him, feeling that not-so-sleepy-anymore part of him prodding my back. “You’re poking me,” I grumbled, playfully, still keeping my eyes closed and my head tipped back.