Page 61 of The Heart Breaker

“Fuck,” he groans. “Stop teasing and put my cock in you.”

I pin my bottom lip between my teeth and shift onto my knees, lowering myself slowly onto him… but he doesn’t wait.

His hands snap to my hips and he thrusts up into me in one brutal thrust, pulling a rough sound out of both of us. My head drops forward, my forehead brushing his shoulder as the thick stretch of him punches every ounce of air from my lungs.

He groans into my neck, his fingers digging into my ass as he holds me there at the base, impossibly deep. “Jesus, Prescott,” he grits out. “I forgot how—fuck—how good?—”

I slowly grind my hips, rolling up and forward so the piercing drags along the exact place inside me that makes my breath hitch. My head tips back, a low, needy moan slipping out before I can stop it.

How does he feel this good? Why does he feel this good? Why does my body betray me like this every time he touches me?

“God, I hate you,” I moan, humiliation and pleasure tangling so tight I can’t tell them apart.

“Yeah?” he grinds out, his fingers biting into my ass as he lifts me off his cock, only to slam me back down. “Me too, Viper. Butfuck, I love this pussy.”

A shiver slices through me and I rake my nails down his chest. He groans, dropping his head back as the car rocks beneath us. The windows fog up from the rain and our heavy breaths, the sound of skin slapping and the slick slide of my pussy taking him again and again filling the car.

His gaze drops to where we’re joined, where I’m slick and stretched and taking him to the base, and his thumb trails down to my clit.

“Fuck…” he murmurs, rubbing little circles over it. “Watching you take me might actually ruin me. Look at how wet you are.Christ, Prescott, you’re making a mess all over my lap.”

His hand slides up my spine, tugging me forward until my chest meets his. He pushes my shirt up, shoves the cups of my bra down, and drags his mouth over one nipple, then the other, sucking hard enough I hear the wet pull of his lips.

A moan tears out of me and he groans in response. His fingers slide into my hair, fisting it, tipping my head so he can press his mouth against my throat.

“Cole—” I manage, though I have no idea what I’m trying to say. Stop. Don’t stop. Don’t do that. Please do that again. Nothing makes sense except the heat of him inside me and the pressure of his lips on my neck.

“God, you feel so good,” he mutters against my skin. His thrusts slow, deepening.

My breath stutters when he presses his lips to my neck, kissing my skin over and over again. My hands curl in his hair when his pace slows even further, rolling, grinding in a way that feels… oh god…tender.

Absolutely.

Fucking.

Not.

A coil tightens in my chest and I slam it down before it can breathe. I drag my nails sharply down his back, enough to make him hiss.

“If you’re too scared to actually fuck me, just say so. I can always take care of myself later.”

His hips falter slightly and his breath stops against my neck. When he lifts his head to look at me, the look he gives me is pure, livid fury.

His hands grip my ass so abruptly that I gasp, and before I realize it, they’re under my thighs, gripping the backs of them,hauling me up and twisting me around. A sharp yelp escapes me as my back hits the seat, my legs instinctively spreading around his waist.

He doesn’t give me a second to breathe.

Cole lifts my ass in the air and leans down, spitting directly onto my pussy, making my clit throb so hard it’s almost painful. He drags his thumb through me, smearing it over where I’m already drenched before he grips the base of his cock and rubs himself along my pussy.

“Cole—” My voice cracks on his name.

He shoves into me so deep and fast that I cry out, grabbing the sides of the seat as he drives into me again, harder, his breath breaking in a low groan that vibrates against my skin.

“Oh fuck—” I can’t stop the words from flying out, my breath from coming out in choppy little gasps, the way my back arches as he pounds into me.

“You’re such a brat,” he snarls, driving into me harder, the seat jerking beneath us with every thrust.

I narrow my eyes, even as my hips lift to meet him. “I’d rather be a brat than a boring Barbie doll.”