Dragging my fingers from her still-clenching heat, I bring them to my mouth, sucking them clean as I hold her gaze. Sweet. Addictive. I groan, savoring the taste of her, the way she shivers, the way her pupils dilate as she watches me.
Then I lower my body over hers, pressing my lips to her ear, my breath hot against her sweat-slicked skin.
“Such a good girl,” I murmur, my hand sliding over her thigh, squeezing, claiming. “Such a fucking good girl for me.”
She shudders, her body still trembling beneath mine, her nails scraping over my shoulders as she pulls me closer.
And, fuck, I’m not done with her yet. Not even close.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nysa
I don’t know where I end and he begins.
Hopper is everywhere—his lips, his hands, his body pressing into mine, heat seeping through my clothes, through my skin, into my bones.
His mouth is devouring me. His tongue sweeping deep, claiming, making me helpless to anything but him.
I don’t want to fight this anymore.
I don’t want to run.
I just want him.
And I want all of him.
He licks his lips. “Look at you,” he murmurs, almost to himself, his thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs as I continue trembling after the way he made me come so hard. He called me his good girl and I shouldn’t care, but I care so much to be just that. His.
I squirm, needy, desperate, aching.
“Hopper,” I whimper. “I need you.”
His eyes snap to mine.
“Patience, sweetheart,” he rasps. “I’m going to take my time with you.”
I hear the rustle of fabric, the clink of his belt, and then he’s standing at the edge of the bed, his jeans and boxers sliding down his hips, revealing . . .
Oh.
Oh, God.
My breath catches in my throat.
He’s thick, long and heavy, veins running along the impressive length, the broad head already glistening.
I swallow hard, my thighs clenching together instinctively.
He notices.
A slow, dangerous smirk curves his lips. “You can handle it,” he murmurs, his voice low and knowing.
My stomach tightens.
“I don’t know if I can.”
His smirk fades. His eyes darken.
