Page 83 of Dirty Pool

And so was his pace, now.

This was frantic, and dirty. She didn’t need his words whispering in her ear to get her higher, or his teasing touches to light the flames inside her body. She was already there, and working toward the cliff that would throw her straight off the edge of bliss.

What a wonderful trip that would be.

Michel found her hips to yank her harder into him as the rhythm between them came a little faster. It made his cock hit the deepest spot inside of her pussy as his groin slapped her backside with every snap of his hips.

It ached.

And it felt so good.

“Right there,” Gabbie gasped. “Right there, oh, my God.”

It was the feeling of him leaning over her back, and his teeth finding the junction of her shoulder that sent her spinning. Because that’s how it felt when the orgasm crashed over her senses. Like she was a coil coming undone—spinning and twisting, unfurling a million miles a minute until she hit bottom, and crashed to the ground. She was sure her body was in a million little pieces, but it couldn’t possibly be because Michel pulled away, and in the next blink, had her wrapped in his arms to cradle her.

The softness of a bed met her back before he was crawling in between her thighs. All she could do was open up to him, and let him in. Too sensitive, and trying to recover, she felt him enter her again.

Softer, this time.

Easier.

He wasn’t so frantic, then.

Wasn’t so rough.

And she liked it, too.

Loved how he loved her. Sweet touches against her body, and his kisses drifting over her chest and throat as he used her body to make himself fly, too. She didn’t think she was going to come again—wasn’t her body already spent?

It felt like it.

Michel proved her wrong.

She came when he did, too, because just hearing his pleased, thick moan when he came was enough to shove her over the ledge again. This time, she didn’t feel so broken as she tried to catch her breath, her fingernails digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders as she trembled all over.

It still somehow broke her, though.

He always did that.

He’d ruined her for other men.

There could be no other but him.

“They follow me all the time,” he muttered against her lips.

Gabbie stiffened on the bed, her naked body moving against his on the sheets. Just like that, her high was gone. It was time for them to talk, it seemed, and she didn’t know if she liked that, or not. “What do you mean?”

“The Italians. It’s … they’re watching me.”

“I mean, my father’s people watch me, too, Michel.”

He shook his head, and she knew then that he was trying to tell her something else. Something important, but she wasn’t hearing it correctly.

“Why does it bother you, then?”

Michel leaned away from her, using his elbow to keep him propped up on the bed. In the dim lighting, she still had a good view of his face, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Because it means they don’t trust me. And since they won’t let me in on their plans, and I don’t want to be associated with my … friends here anymore, I’m in the dark. But it puts me on edge to know they’re watching me like they have to.”

“Oh.”