Page 17 of Viper's Desire
I don’t plan to move. My hips do it on their own, a slow drag up into him, chasing the pressure, and the friction punches a gasp out of me.
He goes rigid above me. “Do that again.”
So I do. I push up into him, and he drops his forehead to mine and lets me, holding himself on locked arms while I learn the shape of what I want against him.
Then he takes over. He moves his hips and slides his cock—not penetrating me, only through my folds. With every movement, the thick ridge of him drags over my clit on every pass. The head of his cock catches my opening, and my whole body jerks.
“Tanner—”
His mouth is at my ear. “Not yet. Just this.”
He works himself through the slick of me, certain, unhurried, and every glide drags fire over the spot his mouth already found, building me up again faster this time.
I’m soaking him. I can hear it, the wet drag of us together. My hips lift into him, greedy, working myself against the hard line of him.
He keeps his eyes on my face and reads everything I can’t say. Every muscle in him is locked, holding on by a thread, giving me this and only this until I’m strung so tight I’d beg if I had the breath for it.
“Please.” I find it anyway. “I need all of you.”
“You have me.”
He reaches over to the nightstand, and there’s the tear of foil, and he kneels up to slip the condom on.
“What happens after tonight?” I ask. I told him I didn’t want to talk, but I’m talking.
He settles over me again, forearms bracketing my head, and holds my eyes until I quit moving.
“This isn’t a tonight thing, Eden.” His thumb strokes my cheekbone. “You’re my forever.”
I exhale, my whole body feeling the weight of those words.
He reaches between us and lines himself up, and the blunt pressure of him there makes me clench up on instinct.
“I’ve got you. Breathe.”
I breathe, and my breath shakes going out.
He pushes in by inches, giving me a little and stopping, letting me stretch around him. It burns, and it’s strange, and I want more.
A stinging sensation pulls as my body opens for him, sharp enough that my nails dig into his shoulders.
Sweat beads at his hairline, his jaw is tight, and his arms are locked.
He keeps his eyes on my face the whole time, reading me, stopping when I wince, pressing in when I loosen. There’s no rush in him at all.
“Still with me?”
“Yeah.” My nails are dug into his shoulders. “Don’t stop.”
He presses into me, and once he’s fully seated, I’ve got both arms locked around his neck and my face pressed to his throat, breathing him in. He holds there, buried and unmoving, his forearms shaking with the work of staying put.
Every place we’re joined, my pulse throbs around him, the stretch right at the edge of what I can take. I lock my ankles behind him to keep him deep, and he groans low, his whole body shaking with how hard he’s reining himself in.
“You’re—” He cuts himself off. “Tell me when.”
I tip my hips up, testing, and the drag of him inside me turns the burn into a deep ache that’s way more pleasure than pain.
“Now,” I say. “I’m ready.”
