Page 152 of Always: A Legacy Novel

He liked the way she smelled like sin and cherries when he sucked it in.

“So good,” he agreed.

The frantic beat of Cross’s heart matched the pace of his thrusts. Even holding onto her hips did little because Catherine just kept pushing back into him anyway. She gave as good as she got, and it drove him nuts.

Because he always wanted more.

With her, that want came easy.

It was bad for him.

She was bad for him.

But he could make this just sex, and it didn’t have to matter at all.

That’s what she wanted.

He could do that.

He felt high as hell between her thighs, wanting deeper with every thrust, and finding she was so damn tight around him it was ridiculous. Crazy. Stupid. Delirious. His fingers pressed deeper into her hips, leaving beautiful pink prints behind and making her sigh when she backed into him again.

Catherine was always sweeter and prettier with a dress shoved up so she could be fucked, her ass high, panties pushed aside, and him inside her. His cock, fingers, or his tongue. He didn’t care, she just looked perfect like that.

“I wanna come,” she whined against the seat, “I wanna come.”

He kind of loved that, too. How her words slurred, and her inhibitions left. How she didn’t care what she sounded like, or how she looked, as long as she felt good.

And damn, she felt good.

“Give it to me, then,” he demanded.

Cross let go of her hips to pull her up, one of his hands sliding around her throat to grab a handful of her sweet neck and the necklace she wore. His other hand drifted into her hair, pushing the messy waves out of her face so he could kiss her cheek, and bite the corner of her mouth.

Wild eyes blinked back at him.

Trembling lips parted when he kissed them.

“Aren’t you going to give it to me, Catty?”

God, she did.

Hard, shaking, crying out, and scoring lines over his hand on her throat all at the same time. Sweet sixteen, and oh, so pretty like this, he thought.

Catherine hadn’t even finished panting her way through her orgasm before he came, too, emptying into latex while her muscles sucked him dry. “Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah,” Catherine mumbled, her cheek still pressed to his lips.

Cross needed to breathe.

He pulled out and away from her, if only because the longer he stayed like that, the better it felt. He wasn’t dealing with those feelings and that bullshit tonight. Catherine rolled from her knees to her backside, and leaned into the seat.

“I need a fucking napkin or something,” Cross said.

Catherine tossed her bag at him that had been lying on the floor. “In there.”

Cross found a pack of tissues in the Prada bag, and got rid of the damned condom by stuffing it into his pocket after it was wrapped up. He’d toss it later. Once he was tucked back in, and zipped up, he looked to her.

“You good?” Cross asked.