Page 61 of Her Rival

I had to grip tight just to keep my palms from quivering.

"That's it, ride me," I grunted.

"Shut up," she glowered.

Her hand wrapped around my fucking throat.

My eyes went wide as I stared up at her. Dani. Ashley. Whatever name she'd walked away from in the parking lot of a high school nine years ago. She was wild. Free. Her head thrown back, her hand around my throat, her hips chasing a high she'd more than earned. She looked like the devil herself. A succubus sent to drag my soul out through my dick. Her hair burned in the warm yellow lamplight, and the black-tipped curls of it fluttered against her body as she moved, and the woman who'd spent a year teaching me to make myself small was riding me like she'd been built for the single purpose of taking what she wanted, and what she wanted was me.

I had never seen anything like her in my life.

She kept moving. I kept letting her.

I'd kept my body for myself, in most of the ways that counted, longer than most men I knew. Longer than most men anyone knew. And I hadn't understood, until this exact moment with her riding me and her hand on my throat, what I'd been keeping it for. The mega-church that raised me had taught me a lot of things. To keep certain doors closed. That what you gave away from your body was a thing you didn't get back. I hadn't believed most of what they taught me by the time I was nineteen. But that one I'd somehow believed, on some level I'd never figured out how to argue myself out of.

So I'd been careful. With everyone. With the puck bunnies. With the girls in college. With the women at the bars in this city for eight years.

And here I was on a Saturday night in November, with the woman who'd cost me my hometown riding me like she'd been made for it, and my body was choosing to give her what it hadn't given anyone all the way before her, and I did not, in that moment, have the language for what I was choosing.

I figured I'd find the language later.

"Oh god. Come on. You can do it, Dani. Just a bit longer," she whispered to herself.

"You've got this," I growled, coaching her back up toward her high. "Take it. Take what you came here for. You've been chasing it nine years, don't you stop now."

I bucked up hard, meeting her thrust for thrust, just like she'd done with me. My mind fell blank. My voice, robbed. The feel of her slick dripping down me filled everything in my body back up, and I didn't even know I had a second round in me until it was already coming. Her hips moved faster. Her hand tightened on my throat. I choked a little, gasping for air as she hung her head and her hair curtained us off from the rest of the world, and I let her have my air, because she'd taken everything else and she could have that too.

And then I felt her legs stutter against my hips.

"Come for me," I growled, reaching up to smooth her hair back and hold it away from her face so I could watch.

But nothing could've prepared me for what came out of her as her body locked above me.

"I'm so sorry," she choked out, her body shivering as the pleasure ripped through it. She gritted the words out. "I'm sorry for. who I was. back then."

I went very still inside of her.

She swiveled her hips, rendering me silent as I felt the orgasm coil up tight at the base of me. "I'm sorry. for. the girl. I let my dad. turn me. into."

I almost broke.

I almost stopped, right there, with her shuddering on top of me and her hand still loose around my throat and her hair falling around her face. Because what she was saying was a thing I'd waited nine years to hear and had stopped expecting to hear at any point in those nine years, and to have her say it now, in a voice cracking the way it was cracking, in the middle of an orgasm I'd already given her half of, was a kind of timing I hadn't braced for.

I did not break.

I kept her hips moving.

"And I'm sorry," she choked out as she collapsed against me, "for hurting. you."

The instant she collapsed against me I stopped caring about anything else. I rolled her over, tossed her legs over my shoulders, and watched the pleasure rip through her face as I fucked another orgasm up through her body. I gave her no time to breathe. No time to think. No time to panic. She'd done enough of that in her life and tonight was not the night for any more of it.

"You're going to come again, and you're going to like it," I growled as my body twitched against hers.

When I slipped my fingers between us to play with that swollen nub of hers, it was all she needed.

"Jett."

The force of her orgasm pulled me over with her, and I felt her milking me as I collapsed on top of her. She couldn't move. I couldn't move. All we could do was lie there in my bed, my weight pressed into her softness, her body wringing what was left of me out of me.