It's Just Business

but of Raven. Her smiles, her strength, her poise in the face of adversity, her intelligence, her willingness to sacrifice herself for me, her love. And in the same flashes of memory, I see my own growth, the way she’s cracked through the stone walls around my heart and I’ve let her in, giving her the deep, dark, ugly parts and trusting that she won’t run from them or from me. She makes me a better man, and she is a better woman than Olivia could’ve ever been.

Because she’s my Raven. There is no other. There could never be anyone like her. She was meant to be mine, and I was meant to be hers. I want her here. No, I need her here. If
marrying her is what she wants, I’ll do it. Because what I want is her.

“Marry me.”

“What?” she exclaims, lifting up once again. Her green eyes are wide and wild, but there’s the tiniest glimmer of hope hiding deep there. I can see it, can feel her excitement even as she doesn’t fully risk believing me.

“Raven, I love you,”

Unbidden, I say, “I love you.”

Her movements go jerky as she loses the rhythm. Her eyes pop open, pinning me for a split second as she realizes what I’ve said, and then she falls off the edge into bliss.

Her body quakes over me as she collapses down to kiss me desperately. Amid the kisses, she gasps, “I love you too.”

At her words, my cock gives one last twitch before I explode, my orgasm rocking through me.

My vision blacks out for a moment, and the only sound I hear is Raven crying out her own release, but as the orgasms fade away, we return, panting and spent. Raven collapses onto me, boneless, and I wrap my arms around her, smoothing her hair back from her face as we rearrange ourselves to lie together on the couch.

She rides my face, her arousal covering my mouth as her body trembles. I can feel her climbing, getting closer and closer to coming, and I double my efforts, needing to suffocate in her,
wanting to drown in her. Suddenly, she pitches forward, her breath whispering over my sensitive cock as she cries out, coming hard. And screaming my name. My name.

When the shudders subside the slightest bit, I use the opportunity of her momentary blissful distraction to free my arms. I grip her hips, pulling her to my mouth even tighter.

“Dylan,” she gasps.

“Mine,” I growl against her, flicking my tongue over her clit again. She’s barely come down and she can go again. I’ve done it to her before—one good orgasm turning into a second earth-shattering one if I work her back up quickly enough.

Her moan turns into a grunt as her hips buck, not pushing me away but chasing my tongue for more. I pull away for a split second to keep myself from coming.

I’m about to. From licking her, having her on my face, and her infrequent, glancing touches, I’m about to come. And she knows it. This is the power she has over me.

She wraps her finger and thumb around me again, squeezing tightly, and I hiss.

My toes are curled, digging into the leather, my abs are clenched, and my balls are pulled up tight to my body in preparation for the one thing I’m not ready to do. I need more of her.

I need her to come. Now. Because I can’t hold back. I can’t.