It was a sweet relief when he finally moved his hips, pulling out, then driving back into me hard. I let out a breathy sigh, fingers digging harder into the base of his spine.

“I fucking love your body,” he whispered like a vow. “I’ll never leave you again. Never.”

His words fixed something in me, sealed up any lingering doubt. He was here to stay. And I’d never let him go.

And then he was driving into me fiercely, expelling years of hunger and loneliness. I knew the feeling. It was almost euphoric to finally have someone, to connect at the most base and human level. I ran my mouth over his jaw, tried to catch his lips in mine, but they evaded me as his body moved fast. His muscles were coiled tight, his breaths harsh. I wanted his kiss, dammit. Just as though he was attuned to my every need, he slowed his pace and gave me his mouth.

As we kissed, our lovemaking became slow and languid, but somehow more feverish. I felt every second, found myself shivering as I relished the push and pull and savoured every inch of him inside me. My pores beaded tight, my skin was hot and flushed, and a light layer of sweat coated my skin.

He lowered his face to my neck, still fucking me, and breathed in deep. There was an urgency to his movements, and I knew he was going to come soon.

“I love you,” I whispered in his ear. “Always.”

And then he grew still as he came, before falling hot and heavy onto my chest.

***

Something felt wonderful. I thought I might be dreaming, but there was this fluttering tightness in the pit of my stomach that set my heart thrumming, and I realised the feeling was all too real. I stirred a little in the bed, blinking open my eyes and looking down to find King’s head between my legs, his tongue lapping at me hungrily. I inhaled shakily at the sight, and the first sound I made was a low moan.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice a whisper.

“Not teasing you,” he said, his words recalling a memory of the first night we spent together in Rome, and how he’d woken me up by planting kisses along my thighs.

Before I could respond, his fingers were inside me, pumping fast as his tongue worked its magic on my clit. I had just enough energy to turn my head and check the time on my alarm clock. It was five-thirty in the morning, and therefore early enough that Oliver wouldn’t be awake yet. I could enjoy this. I let out a sigh of relief that mixed in with my moans.

King had thrown my legs over his shoulders to give him greater access, and I swear to God I could have died from the heavenly sensation of his lips and tongue.

“Have I mentioned that I love you?” I sighed.

He chuckled into my skin, the sound vibrating pleasantly through my body. Then he hummed low in his throat, a sound of sheer pleasure like he was truly enjoying himself. I relished the feeling of lazy arousal, of just having to lie there playing me like a piano. The thought caused an image of him with his instrument to flash in my mind, and then I was even more turned on. God, this man.

Sinking my fingers into his hair, I pulled his face in closer, his stubble scratching maddeningly at my thighs. He chuckled again, and I huffed out a breath.

“Shut it.”

He came up for air. “Tell the truth. This is why you wanted me to keep my hair long.”

I ground my jaw and replied breathily, “I said shut it.”

More chuckling, and then he was back at me, licking me until I was coming long and hard on his mouth. His hand stroked my stomach, trailing up my body and caressing my breasts, my nipples. I trembled from the after effects and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him up to me.

“Come here,” I whispered, and wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him close. His breathing was deep and relaxed, and I loved how chilled out going down on me made him. My thighs were around his waist, his delicious body heavy on top of mine. I stroked his hair, enjoying the silky feel, and felt him drift off back to sleep.

I wasn’t sure what time it was when I woke up, but I knew it had to be later than my usual hour. King and I had moved while we slept, and now he lay behind me, his big body encapsulating mine as we spooned. The duvet was pulled high, covering us completely, and it was a good thing, too…because I opened my eyes to find two curious blue ones staring back at me.

Oh, Jeez.

Oliver stood there in his PJs, an inquisitive look on his face as he held one of his teddy bears to his chest. He took in the sight of me and King in bed, but he didn’t seem upset by it. He only seemed curious. I might have felt ashamed if the man in my bed wasn’t his father and if I didn’t plan on spending the rest of my life with him.

“Oliver 2 is asleep,” he whispered, and pointed.

I gave him a tight smile, and honestly, I kind of felt like laughing. Hadn’t I learned by now that there was no privacy when you lived in a house with a five-year-old? I really should have thought to lock the door. Then again, if he’d woken up and found my door locked, he either would’ve gotten scared and started crying, or thrown a hissy fit until I let him inside.

Well, it wasn’t exactly perfect, but I guessed this was one way for him to find out that King and I were together.

“Why is he sleeping in your bed, Mummy?” Oliver asked, still wearing that curious expression. It was sort of adorable.

“Because he’s my…special friend,” I answered, immediately cringing at my choice of words. Seriously, I could’ve done better than pulling out the “special friend” card, but there just wasn’t a right way to explain this situation to a child. “Will you do something for me, baby? Will you go downstairs and grab Mummy’s handbag from the kitchen? The blue one?”