Page 136 of This Bitter Sweet Temptation
“You want me,” she whispers raggedly, like she needs to hear me say it.
“So fucking badly. I want to make you come a hundred different ways. I want to ruin you. I want to rattle your bones and leave you hoarse. I’m that fucked up. Do you understand?”
She answers with a kiss, messy and needy, and everything dissolves into a lustful desire that’s new and intoxicating.
Her hair brushes my shoulders.
Her mouth feels soft, too, but her tongue is hot and wet and wild.
I reach down to grab her ass, urging her to let go, to grind on me to her heart’s content.
I’m already drunk on the sounds she makes—little gasping moans when I touch her just right and the head of my straining cock slides against her clit.
If we had the luxury, I wouldn’t leave this room for a week.
I’d bolt us in here, exploring her body again and again, until I branded every inch of it into my brain.
“Holden,” she rasps against my mouth.
Yeah, little girl. I know.
I reach between us, finding her clit.
She lets out a long, shuddering moan as I smother it with my thumb, and fuck me, her pussy grinds my cock until I groan.
“Can’t believe you haven’t done this for a long time,” she whispers frantically, grabbing me and pushing my cock to her entrance.
“Doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it plenty.”
“With me?”
Before I can answer, she arcs down, engulfing me.
I grip her hips until I know it hurts.
I don’t care, and neither does she.
We need this.
We need the white-hot pleasure so intense it’s blinding.
“You already know,” I snarl. “I’ve imagined all this with you. I’ve had to jerk off in the ice-cold shower ever since we shared that damn bed and I woke up with you in my arms. I can’t stop wanting you, Clee. You’reminein every crazy, warped sense of the word. Later, you can tell me I’m crazy. But right now…”
I don’t finish that sentence.
Not with words.
“Yes. Fuck me like you mean it.”
Happy to oblige.
Taking her hips, I hold her, invading that sweet pussy like I’m going to rearrange it so it’ll never fit another man.
She cries from the slow, rough friction.
Her hands brace against my shoulders.
I get one split second to think how glad I am that I sent Kit away for the night, and then I’m pushing inside her again, hell-bent on hearing her scream.
