Page 47 of Her Broken Biker
I sink down inch by inch.
The stretch makes me gasp. He goes still beneath me, every muscle in him locked.
“Too much?”
I shake my head, breathing hard. “Just... still big.”
A strained laugh leaves him. “Yeah. Still me.”
That pulls a breathless smile from me.
His expression changes at the sight of it.
Then I take the last of him, and the smile leaves both of us.
Full.
So full my fingers curl against his chest.
Ace’s forehead drops to mine. “Good?”
“Yes.”
He does not move until my body settles.
Until the sharp edge fades.
Until I shift first.
The sound he makes is low and rough enough to turn my bones soft.
“That’s it,” he says. “Use me.”
My face burns, but my hips move again.
Small at first. Testing. Learning.
Ace’s hands stay on my hips, guiding without taking over. The chair creaks under us. Morning light spills across his shoulders. His bandage is bright white, my hands are on his chest, and I am bare in his lap while I move on him like I have known this man longer than a single impossible night.
It should feel reckless.
It feels inevitable.
He kisses me between breaths, dirty and tender at once. His thumb finds the place that makes me shiver, and the rhythm inside me breaks.
“Oh.”
“There,” he rasps. “That’s what I want.”
My body tightens around him.
He groans, his good arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me closer without jarring his shoulder.
I ride him slowly, clumsily, until clumsy turns into need. Until every little lift and sink drags pleasure through me. Until I stop thinking about how I look and start thinking only about how he feels.
Inside me.
Around me.
