Page 52 of Riding Hard

Cade, of course, wants ham, pepperoni, and Italian sausage. It’s his go-to pizza order, but I have no idea what Juliette would want, and I’m glad I get to find out. I think this will be good. She’s my old lady now, declared to Dare at the club. I should know what the fuck she likes to eat, how she takes her coffee, and everything else about her.

I can’t only fall in love with her for her cunt. I’ve got to know more about her than that. And this is how I’m going to figure it out. Living with her, having Cade here, being together. I just fucking hope it works out between us. I want it to, and I think she does, too, but hell, who the fuck knows what the future holds?

“Slade,” Juliette calls out.

My spine straightens, my body jerking slightly as I am pulled out of my own head and brought back to this conversation. “Pizza,” she murmurs.

“Pizza,” I confirm.

“Canadian Bacon, olives, and bell peppers on thin crust, if they have it.”

My lips twitch into a smirk. So we’re going to be doing three different pizzas, because I won’t be eating any of that shit, and while I like Cade’s pick, it’s not enough meat for me. So, I make a call and order three pizzas, my gaze flicking between the two of them.

And I know. This moment is when everything changes.

For the better.

For the fucking best.

I can feel it.

CHAPTER

FORTY-THREE

JULIETTE

My fingers grip the headboard as I slam down along his length. Hard. I grind my clit against his pelvis when I do, my head falling back as the welcoming tingling sensation slides throughout my entire body.

I’m close.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I try to keep from crying out. My hips begin to buck against his pelvis, grinding, searching, and then finally finding my release. Slade reaches up, his fingers curling around the back of my neck before he jerks me against him, burying my face in his neck.

Then it slides out.

I cry out against his throat, my hips continuing to roll as I ride through my orgasm. Slade’s hips lift beneath me, and they don’t stop. Even when I think I’m too sensitive, he continues.

Lifting my head, I look at him, whispering a plea. “It’s too much,” I whimper.

He growls, his jaw clenched as he looks up at me. My breath hitches, and his fingers, still curled around the back of my neck, grip the strands of my hair there, tightening his grasp as he looks into my eyes.

“It’s not too much,” he grinds out through gritted teeth. “Relax your body, Jules. Breathe through the sensitivity and take it, honey.”

Take it.

Simple words, but he’s not feeling what I am right now. My clit aches. It’s so sensitive that it almost feels like it’s burning me, or maybe it might spark and catch on fire, both of which sound like a serious gynecological issue, but it’s definitely not.

So I clench my jaw, and I decide that I’m going to take it—just like he told me to.

Sucking in a breath, I hold it for a moment, then breathe out slowly. I force myself to relax as much as possible as he continues to lift his hips beneath me. The hand not in my hair is gripping my hip, holding on to me tightly, keeping me exactly where he wants me.

Then something shifts. It’s no longer pain I feel. Instead, it begins to feel warm. My blood seems to become thicker as it courses through my body, my belly dips, and what was almost painful just a few seconds ago now feels… amazing.

My eyes slide closed as my head falls back between my shoulders. I’m boneless, only staying up because Slade has a firm grip on my hair and hip. If he were to release me, I would fall forward.

I place my palms against his bare chest, my fingernails scoring his skin slightly. My breasts bounce with each thrust of his hips. Then, as if something is sending a jolt of electricity through him, he sits straight up, releases my hair and hip, wraps his arms around me, and holds me close.

“Finish, Jules. I need you to come again,” he murmurs as he leans forward, and I feel his lips touch the center of my throat. “Fuck me, honey. Come again.”