Page 66 of Offside

I pinned her wrists above her head with one hand and felt her whole body shudder against mine—the full-body yes of it—and the last of whatever I’d been holding carefully in check came loose.

“Yes,” she said on a breath. “Ryan. Yes.”

I pushed inside her in one long stroke.

She gasped—sharp and unguarded, her back arching hard off the mattress—and I held still, jaw tight, every muscle locked, because she was warm and tight around me and it felt so good it was almost unbearable and I needed a second before I did something irreversible. Her wrists flexed against my grip. Her hips rolled up toward mine with unmistakable intent.

I exhaled through my teeth.

Then I gave her exactly what she’d asked for.

I started to move—deep and deliberate, not gentle, not tentative—and the sound she made punched straight through me. I found the angle that made her breath stutter and stayed there, relentless, and every time she made a sound I felt it in my spine, in my chest, in every place I’d been keeping this locked away. She felt incredible. She felt like something I’d been stupid enough to walk away from once and was never going to be stupid enough to walk away from again.

“Tell me how that feels,” I said against her ear.

“So good,” she said, breathless. “Ryan. God. So good. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Keep fucking me!”

“Good girl,” I said.

She clenched around me so hard I had to lock every muscle I had to stay in control. I felt it register in her face—the surprise of it, the way her breath caught differently—and I filed it away immediately.

“Oh,” I said against her throat. “You like that.”

“I—” She stopped. Started again. “Yes!”

“Tell me what you want,” I said.

“Harder,” she said. “I want—harder. Please.”

I gave it to her. Drove into her deeper, harder, exactly what she was asking for, and she cried out and her back arched off the mattress.

“Look at me,” I said. “Maren. Eyes on me.”

She brought her eyes to mine. Dark and blown and completely undone.

“Don’t close them,” I said. “I want to watch you come around my cock while I fuck you.”

She groaned and I could’ve sworn she got wetter.

“You feel perfect,” I said, my voice rough, my rhythm not letting up for a single second. “This pussy was made for me, Maren. You understand that? It was made for me.” I grunted as I pounded into her, giving her what she wanted.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Ryan⁠—”

“Say it.”

“S-say what?” she stuttered out the words.

“You’re mine, Maren. Mine.”

“Yours…”

“Say it again,” I demanded, losing my control as she squeezed around me, our breaths mingling, sweat forming between us.

“Yes. Yours. I’m yours. Please⁠—”

“Good girl,” I said. “Such a good girl.”

She clenched around me when I said it and I groaned against her skin and felt her everywhere—warm and tight and so perfectly mine it was almost disorienting, like some part of me had always known this was where I was supposed to end up and had just been waiting for the rest of me to catch up.