“We’re not gonna lose shit,” he promised.

He kept moving, going deeper.

She slid one hand up and curled it tight around the back of his neck, the other arm she wrapped around him to hold on.

“I’m gonna make it good,” he vowed.

She tipped her hips up, gazing into his eyes, now panting.

“You gotta believe,” he ordered.

“Believe,” she whispered.

He went faster.

She held on tighter.

“You gotta believe, Livvie,” he grunted.

“I believe, honey.”

He took her mouth. He fucked her cunt. She came hard for him. He shot deep in her.

He stayed on top and tangled his hand in the back of her hair, holding her still as he said in her ear, “No more talk like that. You think like that, you don’t sleep. You think like that, you worry. You gotta let that go, Liv. I’m gonna make it all okay. You gotta let it go and believe.”

“I’ll let go.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise, Nick.”

He drew in breath.

He let it go.

He felt her body yielding beneath him.

She’d let it go too.

Letting it go, it was time to move on.

And it was Saturday. They had time to move on to good things.

So he moved on, doing it lifting his head and again kissing his Livvie.

* * * * *

8:27 – Sunday Morning

His back and shoulders to his headboard, his knees cocked, feet in the bed, his hand full of Livvie’s hair, holding it back, he thrust up, watching her take his cock with her mouth.

“Fuck,” he grunted.

Twisting her hair gently, he went still so he wouldn’t blow.

She didn’t.

Without him thrusting, she started bobbing.

Fuck.

“Livvie, only warning you’re gonna get,” he growled.

Without breaking her rhythm, on an upward glide, she wrapped her hand around his dick as she released him with her mouth.

Then she gave him her hot, hungry eyes as she jacked him.

Jesus.

Fuck.

“Take me there, baby,” he ordered thickly, his hand still in her hair, gripping tight.

She stayed between his legs but leaned over him, still jacking him, hand in the bed beside his hip, her beautiful face, gorgeous naked body and fist pumping his dick all he could see.

“Fuck,” he grunted, thrusting up, fucking her hand.

She made a noise that was hungrier than the look in her eyes.

“Fuck,” he whispered, and closed his eyes as she took him there and he exploded, shooting on his stomach.

She milked him dry, stroked him sweet and he came down with her pressed to his side, feeling her cheek on his shoulder, his hand still in her hair.

He gave it a gentle tug, dipped his chin and caught her eyes before he took her mouth.