Page 27 of Control (Everyday Heroes 3.50)
I nod—at least I think I do—because I’m too busy absorbing the pleasure assaulting me as he pulls out before taking his time to push back into me.
My hands grip the sheets as he palms my breasts when he starts to move with a bit more force. Driving in, grinding against my pelvis, ever-so-slowly pulling out before starting the
frenzied process all over again.
The pace picks up. Our own panting and the sound of our bodies connecting with each thrust battling for an audience over the thunder.
Right there.
“Feel good?”
Oh yes.
“Jesus, woman.”
He looks incredible as the muscles in his neck strain and his fingers dig into the sides of my hips as he tips my center to meet him with every thrust. A damn Adonis giving me exactly what I need.
And then it hits me.
The Molotov cocktail.
Its impact turning into an out-of-control wildfire.
It eats the oxygen in the room. It pushes and pulls at every part of me until the flames consume me in an explosion of pleasure.
The orgasm washes over me. In a tsunami of sensations. Followed by waves. Then ripples. With his hips stilled, he stares at me and watches me absorb the ecstasy.
Every part of me wants to look away, but hell if those eyes on me only heighten the intensity. It makes me want to show him how good he made me feel.
So I reach between my thighs where he’s still hard and testing all restraint by not moving. I slide my fingers around the portion of him not buried within me.
He groans. His head falls back and his mouth falls lax as I guide him deeper into me before moving my hands to his hips to tell him I’m all his.
With a scrape of my fingers over his torso, his control snaps. His desire to give me what I need met, his own need supersedes all else now.
He slams into me. Harsh and ragged and desperate. His hands on me. His eyes on me. His cock into me.
And within moments, it’s my name that fills the room. It’s his storm that takes over until his tense body relaxes and he drops onto the bed beside me.
Our ragged pants fill the room only to be rivaled with my pulse pounding in my ears.
“Holy shit.” I finally laugh.
“You can say that again.”
We fall into silence, our minds lost to what just happened between us. Mine wondering how I’m going to walk away unscathed, because Reznor Mayne is definitely a man I’d take seconds with.
But then again...I can’t put my finger on it but this feels so very different than anything I’ve had of late. And late meaning in the past year or so...I may like to have my fun, but that doesn’t mean I sleep around.
I hear the raindrops outside for the first time. The tap, tap, tap against the roof overhead through the open windows.
It had to be the eye contact.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Or his need to slow it down and make a first impression.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
