If I think too much about that now, I won’t be able to get what I want, what I need before he leaves me. I slowly crawl back up his body until I settle my bare pussy against where his still-hard cock lies against his stomach. I glide myself along it, the slickness of my arousal from blowing him mixed with his earlier release inside me coating his length, and he groans, his hands shifting to my hips, fingers digging in there.
“Fuck, Raven. Give a man a minute to recover.”
I reach between us and grasp his cock, aligning it with my core.
His gaze follows the movement, then cuts up to meet mine as I slowly sink down on him. He groans, his fingers digging deeply into my hips, and I lean in and kiss him—long, slow, deep—gliding my tongue along his until I know he can taste his come on it.
One of his arms wraps around my back, and he shifts up to recline against the wall behind the bed, the seated position making him even thicker and pushing him even deeper. The stretch and burn of him filling me is more intense this way, the pleasure almost too much to bear.
Or maybe it’s just this position.
Locked together.
Chest to chest.
Eye to eye.
Sharing every breath.
It’s so intense that I have to close my eyes as I slowly push up on my knees, until only the head of his cock stays inside me, and squeeze around it.
Connor growls against my lips. “Are we done with the games portion?”
He trembles, as if the effort of restraining himself is too much for him to handle even after just coming. That heady feeling of control floats through me again. Knowing such a powerful man can be brought to his knees so easily by me gives me a rush of conviction to keep doing it.
I let my lids flutter open and grin at him. “What fun would that be?”
His grip on my hair tightens, and he jerks my head back, holding me still, completely at his mercy with the other hand pinning on my hip. “I don’t want to play games anymore.”
His admission makes my heart skip a beat.
I didn’t know what the last few weeks have meant, or whether they meant anything at all, but the look in his eyes right now, the sincerity of his words, tells me I wasn’t imagining any of it.
But I’m afraid—no, fucking terrified—to admit that I might want that. That I might want a world where Connor McBride and I aren’t constantly at each other’s throats. Although, if this is the way we make up, maybe it would be worth it to keep that portion going.
“Say something, Firefly. I’m not going to release you until you do.”
I lick my swollen lips that still taste like him, watching his dark eyes search mine. “I don’t know what to say, Connor.”
It’s the only honest answer I can give him, because everything is so fucked up, and I can’t think clearly where he’s concerned, especially with everything else that’s going on. Especially when he’s deep inside me.
“You tell me when you figure it the fuck out, Firefly. Deal?”
I nod. “Deal.”
It’s all I can offer him right now besides my body.
He slowly releases his grip on my hip, allowing me to resume my glide, and he kisses me fiercely, clutching me against him as I ride and grind down.
We move together perfectly.
Smoothly, like the water trickling over the rocks in the river.
But those waters are dangerous.
Containing rough rapids and steep drops.
There isn’t anything safe about falling into it, yet somehow I feel safe with him, falling into this.
