“But—”
He holds up a hand, cutting me off. “But then I realized that no one will ever be good enough for you, not even me.” I see the dark look in his eyes as he takes a step towards me. “But it’s also true that no one will ever want you more than I do. And no one will ever love you more than I do.”
He drops down to one knee in front of me and pulls a simple gold band with a diamond on it out of his pocket.
“Brandon,” I whisper, my hands going to my mouth. I can’t believe what’s happening. He’s pouring his heart out to me. I hate that he thought he wasn’t good enough for me and that he doesn’t think he deserves a family.
“I want to prove to you that I’m not going anywhere. I dragged my feet to give you a chance to change your mind about me, even though my feelings never changed. There’s nothing about you that I don’t love. You’re loud, the center of attention in every room, and I get to sit back and watch you shine. You’re stronger and work harder than anyone I’ve ever met.”
I don’t say a word as reaches out, taking my hand and sliding on the ring.
“You’re going to marry me, Dolly, not because I’m asking—I’m not—but because there’s no other choice that I will allow. You’re mine. Have been from day one. You sealed your fate the first time you turned those eyes on me and flashed those dimples. You think I’m going somewhere, but I’m not. The only direction I’ve ever been headed is towards you.”
I want to cry, I want to laugh, and I want to fall on the ground with him, all at the same time. But I’m frozen in place. He’s given me my every wish, and I don’t know how to process getting my happily ever after.
“Now,” he says, getting off the floor and picking me up. “I’m going to take you to bed and wear you out.”
9
Brandon
Dolly’s back hits the bed, and I’m on her, ripping at her top. The material is no match for my need for her—or my anger at the shirt. The sound of the material tearing is loud in the room, and it makes me even harder. My mouth goes straight for what’s been taunting me all night since she showed up in this outfit. Her full breasts spill out, and I lean down, latching on to her nipple. I’m going to make sure these clothes never see the fucking light of day again.
My hands lock on her hips as I eat at her body, wanting to know what she tastes like everywhere. Needing to know. All these years of want are pushing down on me, and I try to remind myself to go slow, but I can’t seem to stop. I need it all.
“Brandon,” she moans, her fingers sliding into my hair as her back arches off the bed.
“You giving yourself to me, little lamb?” I ask, looking up at her. My hands on her hips dig in deeper in pure possession. I can’t seem to let her go.
“I gave myself to you a long time ago,” she admits, and her words sink in deep. She belongs to me. Always has. There has never been another option. We were made for each other. I’m going to spend my life proving I’m the man for her, and I know she’ll give me the life I’ve been dreaming of.
Her legs fall open, and the skirt she has on bunches up around her hips. Her bare pussy is pressed up against me, and only my jeans are keeping me from being inside her. I don’t know if I hate them or love them right now. They’re making me slow down, because otherwise I’d already have all of my cock shoved inside her tight little cunt, spilling myself deep inside her, trying to make all those thoughts of her swollen with our child come true.
“So you’re saying this belongs to me.” I thrust up against her, the hard ridge under my jeans rubbing against her pussy.
“God, yes,” she moans, trying to wiggle against me. Reluctantly, I let go of her hips and lean back, looking down at her. All she has on is the jean skirt shoved all the way up around her waist, and her little gray boots.
Her hips rise up, trying to get back the friction I just stole from her. She makes a grab for me, wanting to pull me back down to her. I level her with a hard stare. She stops, her eyes widening before she drops back down onto her elbows.
My hand cups her pussy before I rub my thumb up and down her slit, loving she’s bare here. Nothing getting in my way of her.
“You shave this for me, little lamb?” I ask as my thumb stops on her clit. Her eyes start to fall closed as she enjoys the pleasure I’m giving her. Slowly, I rub back and forth, stopping when she doesn’t answer me. Her eyes snap open as she bucks her hips in search of my thumb.
“Answer me,” I growl. My own need is bearing down on me as I watch her, spread out on a bed beneath me, her wild curly red hair everywhere while she’s enjoying the pleasure I give her.
“Yes, I did it for you,” she finally admits, narrowing her eyes at me.
“But then you wore a skirt that showed everyone what was mine.” I cup her pussy again, not liking the idea of anyone else ever seeing it. It’s mine, and the thought of another man getting a look at her makes me want to spank her ass again.
“It’s your fault! I had to wear the skirt. So if you want to be mad at anyone—” Her words stop abruptly when my hand on her pussy rises and comes down, slapping her sex.
Her eyes grow big, and a gasp leaves her mouth. But she opens her legs even wider.
“I can’t believe you—”
I smack her pussy again. This time when my hand lands, her hips push off the bed, meeting me halfway. Then she falls back flat on the bed, a moan leaving her mouth.