She laughs breathlessly, the sound breaking into a moan.
“You like that?”
“Keep talking,” I whisper against her jaw, “and I’ll make you come before I even take you to the bedroom.”
Her hips snap upward, sharp, frantic.
She’s already so close.
I can feel it in every twitch of her muscles, every half-swallowed sound she tries and fails to keep quiet.
I curl my fingers just right, and she breaks. Her back bows, knees clamping around my arm, fists tangling in my shirt like she’s drowning and I’m the only air she has left.
“Dallas, oh my…”
I kiss her through it, swallowing her cry, holding her still so she doesn’t fall apart completely.
“Good girl,” I murmur against her lips, still stroking her slow and cruel. “I’m not done.”
Her breath is a broken rhythm against my mouth.
She clings to me like she’s trying to stay conscious.
I pull my hand free and lift her with me, her legs wrapping automatically around my waist as I carry her down the hall. She watches me the whole way. Eyes blown wide, lips parted, body still trembling.
“Bedroom,” I growl.
She nods, already gone.
I set her down on the bed, and she crawls into my lap like she was born for it, thighs straddling me, heat pressing over the hard line of my cock, and I swear I almost lose it right there.
I grip her waist, teeth clenched, breathing hard against her throat.
“You want this?” I rasp.
“Yes,” she breathes instantly. “I want you.”
No hesitation.
No doubt.
I guide her hips, line us up, and the second she sinks on me, slow, tight, so damn perfect, my head drops back with a curse.
“Faith…”
Her nails dig into my shoulders as she takes all of me, inch by inch, until she’s flush against me, trembling.
She leans forward, forehead to mine, breath mingling with mine.
“Don’t stop,” she whispers, smiling like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
I laugh once.
“Oh, sweetheart,” I say, gripping her hips, pulling her down harder. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Then I move with her.
Hard.
