Page 75 of Dozer

She makes a sound like a laugh that turns into something else halfway out. Her hips roll up. I answer them with a deep thrust. The bed frame gives a soft complaint against the wall and neither of us cares.

I brace on one forearm beside her head so I can watch her because I want to. Her eyes are half-shut. Her hair's stuck to her temple. There's a flush going down her throat and across her chest that I put there, and the knowledge of that does something primal to me.

"You're staring again," she manages.

"Yeah."

"That's — oh—" Whatever she was going to say gets lost when I shift my angle, and her whole body arches under mine.

"There’s your spot," I say.

"Yes, right there," she agrees, ruined.

I keep hitting her there. I don't get clever. I don't vary it because I want to feel smart. I take the one thing that makes her stop breathing and I do it over and over with the patience of a man who has waited out longer sieges than this, until she's not saying words anymore, just my name and the first syllable of God, and her legs have locked so tight around my waist that I can feel the tremor running through the muscles of her thighs.

"Let me hear it," I say against her jaw. "The whole place is empty. Nobody but me to hear you scream."

"You want—" She swallows. "You want me loud."

"I want you honest."

She turns her head and bites my shoulder, and the sound she makes into my skin isn't loud but it's the most honest thing I've ever heard, so I'll take it.

I get a hand between us. Find her clit with my thumb, and she jolts like I've put current through her.

"Oh — no, that's — that's not fair⁠—"

"Never claimed to be fair, Kenzi."

"Dozer—" Her hand slaps down over mine, not to stop me. To keep me there. To hold me exactly where I am while her hips work against the pressure, greedy, all the wit and the deflection burned off her until there's nothing left but need with my name on it. "Don't stop. Don't you dare…don’t stop…"

"Not going to stop."

She comes apart underneath me and I feel every second of it. It starts in her thighs and rolls up through her, and her body clamps down around me so hard I have to stop, jaw locked, forehead pressed to hers, riding it out with her because moving now would end me and I'm not finished. Her mouth is open against my cheek. She's saying something that isn't words. Her nails have found the back of my neck, and I'll wear those marks for a week and be glad about it.

When she finally goes slack, she laughs, a wrecked, wonderful little sound.

"Holy hell." She says when she finally gets her words back.

"Yeah."

"That was—" She drags in a breath of air. "That was rude, actually. To be that good at sex with me that quickly."

"Told you I don't rush things that matter."

"That was not slow, Dozer."

"That was slow." I kiss the corner of her mouth. Slower than I’d like. It took everything in me not to come with her. "I've got slower. This was efficient for our first time."

"Oh my God, shut up." She's still shaking. She hooks her heel behind my thigh and pulls, and I sink deeper into her, and both of us make a sound at the same time. "Again."

"Give yourself a second."

"Don't want a second." Her hands come up to my face, thumbs at my cheekbones, and even flushed and wrung out there's steel under it. "I've had a week of seconds. I've had a week of you being careful. Do it again."

There's not a man alive who could argue with that.

I get an arm under her back and take her up off the mattress with me, sitting back on my heels, and she comes with a startled little "oh" and then she's in my lap with her knees on either side of my hips and her arms around my neck, and the angle drives me into her so deep she has to press her mouth to my shoulder just to breathe.