Page 89 of Then You Happened
It takes everything I have not to.
But that’s only because this feels so damn good that I don’t want to waste the pleasure.
“You do realize that, when you do that, it begs me to fuck you on every goddamn surface in this house, right?” I groan as my head falls back, and I fight the urge to fuck her into oblivion.
Her laugh rings out as her fingernails dig into my shoulders. “Then I guess I need to keep doing it.”
Those storm-cloud-colored eyes of hers are dark with desire, etched with need, as she tightens around me again.
My jaw clenches—hell, every goddamn part of me clenches in response.
I lean in and kiss her. The kind of kiss that makes my balls ache and my eyes roll back. The kind of kiss that is soft and slow like she needs since it’s all she’s going to get. Because she feels so fucking incredible that, the minute I move—the minute my dick slides out and then pushes back in again—there will be no way slow is going to pass through my mind again.
Hell, thinking won’t even begin to be an option.
With my lips on her and my hands on her waist, I begin that slow slide out. I hold her against the wall as I fight for every ounce of control when I push gently back into her again.
“Jack.” A sighed moan.
“Jack.” It’s my name she’s calling when I’m buried to the hilt so there isn’t a single ounce of space between where our bodies meet.
“Jack?”
Another pull out.
“Mmm?” I lean back to look at her to remind myself what I needed from her last time that she didn’t give me.
Her eyes open and on me.
Her lips moaning my name.
It’s her needing me right now.
Not Fletcher.
Not him.
Those eyes pull me in as much as her pussy does. Lids heavy with arousal. Hair a mess falling around her face. Lips parted and swollen from mine.
“Fuck me, Jack.” If her words were explosive, then the groan that follows them is a Molotov cocktail.
Restraint snaps.
Gentle. Soft. Slow—cease to exist.
Now. Need. Hard.
It’s all I can think.
All I can feel.
Until I can’t think.
Until it’s just Tate and me and her pussy and my dick.
“Look at me,” I demand as black eyelashes flutter open.
Until it’s just her fingernails scoring lines in my skin and my teeth nipping her shoulder.
