I feel him everywhere, filling me completely, my body stretching around him and taking him and wanting more even as I gasp at the fullness of it.
And then his hips rock forward. One solid thrust. And he’s all the way in.
“Holy shit,” I breathe.
“Yeah,” he says roughly. His forehead drops to mine. His chest is heaving. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”
Neither of us moves for a moment.
His gaze roams over my face and I watch him look at me the way I’ve caught him looking at me across the distance, like I’m something he can’t quite believe is real. Except now there’s no distance between us at all. We’re as close as two people can ever get.
He thrusts, shallow but enough to pull a soft whimper out of me before I can stop it, a small helpless sound that I feel in my face immediately, heat flooding my cheeks. His eyes flare dark at the sound and his hands grip the backs of my thighs tighter, pulling me down onto him, seating me more completely, and I feel it in my stomach.
“Too much?” he says roughly.
“No.” I press my hips down against him. “Give me more.”
His breath hisses out. “You sure about that?”
“Please,” I say, watching his eyes go dark. “I want all of it. I want everything you’ve got.”
His jaw tightens. Something shifts in his expression, the last of the careful patience burning away, replaced by something darker and more urgent. His hands grip the backs of my thighs hard.
“You have any idea what it does to me,” he nearly growls, “when you say that.” He pulls back and rocks his hips forward as he thrusts. The wave of pleasure that moves through me steals my breath. “When you just—” Another thrust, deeper this time, and he makes a low sound. “Take it. Like that.”
His eyes drop to where he’s thrusting in and out of me and then back to my face.
“Like such a…” He thrusts. “Good.” Again. “Fucking.” Again. “Girl.”
My fingers dig into his shoulders with every thrust, finding purchase, holding on, my nails probably leaving marks and neither of us caring. He’s so big, so much of him, so deep, and the pressure builds with every movement, that sweet overwhelming fullness that makes my eyes want to roll back. I moan against his shoulder.
“That’s it,” he says roughly. “Let me hear you.” His mouth finds my ear. “You’re taking me so well, baby.” His hands pull me down harder onto him and I gasp at the depth of it. “You like when I fill up your tight little cunt like this?”
“So much.” It comes out almost as a sob.
“Fuck.” His voice has dropped to something barely above a growl, rough and dark and satisfied. His hand slides between us and his thumb finds my clit and presses in slow circles and I cry out. “Feel how tight you are. Gripping me. So fucking hot and wet.” His lips brush my temple, incongruously tender against the filth of his words. “Perfect. I’ll never get enough.”
I only wish he meant it forever.
And then he picks up the pace, and I realize that I had no idea what my husband was capable of.
Chapter 37
Maximalist
LILA
Ithought Slade would be careful in bed, measured and controlled the same way he is about everything else.
I was so wrong.
He is relentless.
Against the wall with the water pouring down on us and the steam rising everywhere, his hips drive into mine with a force that knocks the breath out of me on every thrust. His body is pinning mine to the wall and holding me there as he pounds into me.
His hands grip the backs of my thighs hard enough to bruise and I want the bruises. I want the evidence of this on my skin tomorrow. I want to feel him for days.
His lips drag along my throat. Open-mouthed and hungry, his stubble rasping against my wet skin, and then his teeth find the curve where my neck meets my shoulder and he bites down. I gasp from the shock of it, and he does it again in exactly the same spot like he’s staking a claim.
