I cried out, balls drawing up and cock erupting in an inferno of pleasure that drowned out every thought.
His movements grew frenzied, and he plowed into me with no finesse, just pushing deeper and deeper until he shuddered with a hoarse growl.
My ass was still pulsing with pleasure as he came inside me. My cock gave another half-hearted spurt as aftershocks washed through me.
Knight collapsed over me, and I held him close, both of us trembling.
“I hope I get to do that again,” he murmured into my neck.
“Yeah,” I said. “I think, uh, that can be arranged.”
He lifted his head to gaze at me. “Was it good? Please tell me it was good or we’ll never do it again.”
“It was good. So good. I promise.”
His eyes held mine. “And you’re okay? No regrets about?—”
I pulled his head down and kissed him. “No regrets. I love you.”
“I love you too,” he murmured. “No matter what we do in bed.”
“Good.” I tightened my legs around his waist. “Because I’m going to fuck you as soon as we both recover.”
He smiled against my neck. “Fuck yeah. Take anything you want. I’m yours.”
They were just words. Sexy ones, at that. But I knew with Knight, they were more than that. They were a promise.
A love confession.
This man would give me anything I asked. He’d do it happily. But I wasn’t like his ex. I wasn’t going to take advantage of that. I wasn’t going to take and take and take his love without giving anything back.
So I wrapped my arms around his neck and murmured in his ear, “I’m yours too. Anything you want, Will. Don’t forget that.”
He nuzzled into my hair. “We’ll take care of each other, then. How does that sound?”
It sounded perfect.
No, not perfect because I was trying to let my notions of perfectionism go. To choose happiness and fulfillment, family and love, over some benchmark of achievement.
I held the man I’d come to love tighter, affection flooding me. “That sounds like exactly what I want.”
CHAPTER 31
KNIGHT
“Watch the corners!”Ghost called.
Hollywood swore a streak as his knuckles scraped against the doorframe. “Damn it, Joy!”
“Why is it my fault?” Joyride demanded, voice strained as he and Hollywood carried an antique desk—tilted at an angle to fit—into the trailer that Ghost was moving into on the south end of the Clover Leaf Mobile Home Park.
“What did you do?” he asked Ghost. “Fill the drawers with rocks?”
“Nope,” Ghost said. “That’s just solid oak. They don’t make them like that anymore.”
“With good reason,” Joy muttered.
“Why do you need a desk?” I asked as I hauled a recliner up the sidewalk, balancing it over my back like a turtle with a shell.