Page 73 of Single Dad Problems
"Yes," I managed.
"You're going to feel me next."
Cole drove in deep and ground his hips against mine and I came again, clenching around him, and he groaned like I'd punched it out of him and buried himself to the hilt and shuddered and spilled into me with his face pressed to my neck.
He stayed there for a breath. Then he lifted his head and looked at Luke.
"Your turn," he said.
Luke was already moving.
He didn't grab me the way Cole had. He knelt on the bed and took my wrist and turned me over onto my hands and knees. And I went like a dog in heat, because apparently my body took direction from Luke Carter without consulting me first.
"There she is." His palm ran down my spine, slow, from the nape of my neck to the base of it, and I shivered the whole way. "Do you remember what I told you at that desk?"
Oh God. The desk.
"You said-" I swallowed. "You said next time there'd be no interruptions."
"Full sentences, Cupcake." His hand kept moving, down over my ass, one slow proprietary sweep. "What do you want?"
"Luke."
"That's a name, not a sentence."
"You are the single most infuriating-"
His hand came down on my ass with a crack that was more sound than sting, and I gasped, and then I laughed a shocked breathless giggle and I heard him exhale behind me like the sound had physically done something to him.
"Try again," he said, and his voice had dropped into the register that short-circuited my nervous system.
"I want you inside me," I said, in a full sentence. "Please. Right now. That is my thesis statement and I am prepared to defend it."
"Good girl."
Two words and I nearly ended things right there on the spot.
He pushed his cock into me slowly. Inch by deliberate inch, and when I tried to push back and hurry him his hands caught my hip and held me still, and he kept going at exactly the pace he had chosen, because this was a man who had decided to ruin my life one measured centimeter at a time.
"Luke. Luke, I swear to God—"
"I know." Perfectly calm. Completely seated in me now, filling me up, not moving. "You can wait."
"I absolutely cannot."
"You can." He drew back and thrust in slow and deep and ground against me at the end of it, and stars went off behind my eyes.
He set a pace that was steady and relentless and maddening, deep rolling strokes with that grinding finish, one hand on my hip and the other trailing praise up my spine, and every time Igot close to the edge he felt it and gentled, held me right there at the brink, humming like a struck bell, until I was babbling into the pillow, actual nonsense, threats and pleading and at one point what I believe was a partial grocery list.
"Look at you," he murmured. "So good for me. You have no idea what you look like right now."
"Luke, please. Please make me cummm."
I felt the change go through him like a current, his fingers biting into my hips, his rhythm fraying, and the man who had thought everything through his entire life stopped thinking. He hauled me up so my back hit his chest, one forearm banded across my collarbones, and drove up into me hard and fast, his breath ragged at my ear, saying my name like it was the only word he had left.
His forearm was right there.
I bit it.
