Skull’s asleep. We’re lying in bed and I’ve lost count of the orgasms he’s given me, though I know it’s at least five. I’m going to be sore tomorrow. The thought brings a smile to my lips… even while my heart feels like it’s breaking.

I’m propped up on my pillow with a hand holding my head up. My leg is wrapped over Skull’s body, watching him breathe and memorizing every mark of ink, every scar and curve of his body.

“How are you still awake, querida?”

His voice is whisper-soft and hoarse, and it sends delicious chills over my skin.

“I’m just watching you sleep.”

“What on Earth for?” he asks.

I let my index finger slide down his chest, following a jagged scar.

“You’re beautiful,” I tell him honestly.

He turns to his side and props himself up much like I am, studying me.

“I think that last orgasm might have fried your brain. There’s nothing beautiful about me, unless you count my woman,” he says, his fingers trailing down my neck to my breast and kneading it before sliding his thumb over the nipple. Even sore and worn out, I can feel the answering moisture between my legs.

“Skull,” I whisper, not even sure of what I want to say. He must understand because he leans over and pushes me carefully on my back before taking my nipple into his mouth lovingly. My ass leaves the mattress as I strain to get closer to him.

He lets go of my breast to look at me. “Jesus, you want my cock again, querida?” he asks as his fingers brush through the sticky wetness of my pussy. I’m so sore there and he’s taken me so hard and so much that it’s almost painful. Still, the way he touches me and pets the swollen and tender area soothes me too.

“You, Skull. I just want you. I will always want you,” I tell him, giving him honesty in those words that I can’t with others. He positions himself over my body and looks down at me. I caress his face with a hand, my thumb brushing the contour of his nose and the fine wrinkles around his lips. He captures the tip of my thumb with his mouth, memorizing the feel and the shape, then kisses it gently.

“So sweet, so fucking sweet,” he murmurs, his voice quiet.

He blows on the breast he’d sucked on. His breath causes tiny bumps of awareness to pop up across the skin, making the nipple pebble.

“Make love to me, Skull.”

“Are you sure, mi cielo? I don’t want to hurt you.”

In response, I spread my legs wider, making room for him. “Please,” I beg him.

He pulls his pillow underneath my hip and wedges it, then guides himself into me. I hiss from the sting, and when he tries to back out, I tighten my legs around him. “No, don’t stop,” I urge him. He’s worried, I can tell, but he begins carefully pushing inside of me at my request. I can feel every wonderfully thick inch of him sink into me.

“Every time feels like the first,” he whispers, and he’s right. It does. “It just keeps getting better, querida. Every damn time I’m with you, it just keeps getting better and better.”

“I love you, Skull,” I whisper, his cock stretching me more than ever before.

“It’s never close enough is it, querida? No matter how far I get inside your body, it’s never enough.”

His words break me because they echo what my heart is screaming. “It’s never enough, Skull. It’s never enough.” My voice breaks. I can’t hold the tears back—I don’t even try. I let loose the slow-rolling tears, spiked with emotion.

“My sweet, tender Beth,” Skull says, his thumb wiping a tear away.

“Love me, Skull,” I plead. “Never let me go.”

“Always, mi cielo,” he moans. “Nothing will ever stop me.”

I hold onto him as he takes my mouth, kissing me and possessing it as surely as he’s possessing my body. I come just like that, surrounded and owned by him, my orgasm sweet and gentle and consuming. When he does too, I feel his heat fill me. I swear, I feel it all the way in my soul.