Page 61 of Ruthless Scar
I work her slowly. Long strokes. Learning her geography. Where she gasps. Where she moans. Where her hips buck. She’s responsive to everything. Every shift of pressure. Every change. She’s climbing toward a climax. I can tell. The tension in her legs. The pitch going high and short.
I ease off. Kiss the inside of her thigh instead.
“No.” She’s gripping my hair. “Don’t. Please.”
“Breathe.”
Again. Different. My tongue focused. Direct. One finger sliding inside her, curling, and the dual sensation lifts her clean off the mattress. Her thighs clamp around my head and I press them open.
“The sounds you make.” Against her skin. Low. “I want every one of them.”
She’s louder now. Permission granted and she can’t undo it. Her hips rolling against me. My name coming apart between her teeth. Close again. The tremor starting in her legs, the flutter around my finger.
I ease off.
“Lorenzo. I swear to God.”
“Patience.”
I tilt her hips up. The angle changes everything. She gasps. Just the tip of my tongue now. Tracing where she needs me but not giving it.
“Please.” Her voice breaking. “Please, I can’t?—”
“You can.”
I hold her at the edge. Whimpering. Writhing. My name between gasps like a word she’s trying to hold onto.
When I let her fall, I stay through the orgasm. Her body contracting against my tongue. The sounds. Unfiltered. Uncontrolled. The loudest I’ve heard her. I stay through the aftershocks. Until her hold goes slack in my hair. Until the trembling stops.
Then I move up. Over her.
She turns. Automatic. Rolling onto her stomach. The position that’s simpler because it’s anonymous and distant and she doesn’t have to look at me while I’m inside her.
“Not this time.”
She looks at me over her shoulder. Half undone. Hair plastered to her skin. Cheeks flushed.
I answer by easing her onto her back. Settling between her legs. Face to face. My weight on my forearms. Open under mine.
This is my choice. Not because she wants it. Because I want her to see what she does to me.
Condom. The wrapper tears wrong and I have to try again and I grit my teeth. Then I’m lined up.
My cock pushes into her. Her face. Everything. The way her expression opens. The way her eyes widen and narrow. The way she arches to take me deeper.
I have never chosen this. Facing a woman while I’m inside her. More devastating than being shot. And I’ve been shot twice.
Her ankles lock at my lower back. Her fingers bite into my shoulders.
I move. Deep. She gasps. Her spine bows beneath me.
“God, Lorenzo.”
“Yeah.”
“You feel—” She swallows. “You feel so good.”
I’m too close. Too fast. Her pussy is tight and wet and she’s open beneath me.Damn.I want to slow down. Make this last. But the discipline that’s kept me alive is dissolving. Not failing. Dissolving.
