Page 160 of Disgrace

Her nerves sang.

Her skin hummed.

Her clit ached.

“Almost?” he asked.

“God, yeah.”

“God does not live in this bedroom, babe. It is just you, and me.”

The spiral of her orgasm came on fast. A shot of cold down her spine, and a wave of heat in her gut. Pleasure started from somewhere in her center, and radiated outward until it reached the tips of her fingers and toes.

“Holy shit,” Siena breathed into the pillow.

Intense, but not quite enough.

Wonderful, but it could have been more.

Good, but the relief didn’t linger.

She couldn’t make herself come like John could. It was sometimes strange to her how this man knew her body even better than she did.

John proved it in those seconds by letting one of his fists tangle in her hair, and sliding his hard length into her clenching sex before she had even finished panting her way through the orgasm. She felt him flex, and he was seated in deep.

Stretching her open.

Filling her full.

“Christ, I love the way you soak me,” he said behind her.

His body fit perfectly against hers. So deep, her muscles hummed from clenching around him so tight. She vibrated all over.

She could feel that promise of another release—a better, stronger one—just beyond her grasp. She wouldn’t be able to reach it herself.

No, he would have to take her there.

“Ask me for it,” John murmured against the back of her neck.

His other hand slid around her throat. Long fingers wrapped along the delicate column, and held tight. She still had her breath, sure, but it caught in her throat a little with every exhale and swallow. His fingertips danced along her pulse point.

“Ask me for it, Siena.”

“Please fuck me.”

“Hmm? I didn’t hear you, babe.”

His lips grazed her neck, and then her ear. His words slipped over her skin with damningly sinful intent.

A wicked promise.

“Please fuck me, John,” she said a little louder.

Not much, though.

She was airless.

Her mind muddy.