Page 56 of Teach Me Your Ways

“Turn around,” he commanded, his voice rough with renewed desire.

I obeyed without question, placing my palms flat against the cool granite. He stepped up behind me, one hand splaying across my lower back while the other gripped my hip. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, the hard length of him pressing against me.

“Ready?” he asked, his breath hot against my ear.

“God, yes,” I breathed.

He entered me in one smooth thrust. I cried out at the feeling of being so full. It had been so long since I’d had this—since I’d felt this alive, this desperate, this completely consumed by another person. But it had never been like this. Never this intense, this perfect.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he groaned, setting a rhythm that had me pushing back against him with each stroke.

His hands roamed my body as he moved inside me, one finding my breast while the other slipped between my legs. The stimulation had me gasping, my legs trembling as pleasure built inside me again.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his fingers working my clit in tight circles. “Come apart for me.”

I shattered around him with a cry that echoed through the kitchen. My legs shook as waves of ecstasy crashed over me. But he didn’t stop. If anything, my orgasm seemed to spur him on, his thrusts becoming harder, more desperate.

“Living room,” he growled, pulling out suddenly.

We stumbled together toward the couch, hands grabbing and pulling at each other. He sat down heavily and I straddled him without hesitation, sinking down onto his length with a moan of satisfaction.

This position gave me control, and I used it, riding him with abandon as his hands gripped my hips. The couch creaked ominously beneath us, but I didn’t care. Nothing mattered except the friction, the heat, the way he filled me so perfectly.

“Shit, Cece,” he panted, his head falling back against the cushions. “You’re going to kill me.”

I leaned forward, changing the angle. We both groaned at the sensation. His hands moved to my breasts, kneading and pinching until I was writhing above him. The pleasure was building again, impossibly fast, impossibly intense.

“I can’t—” I gasped, my rhythm faltering as another orgasm approached.

“Yes, you can,” he said firmly, his hips bucking up to meet mine. “Give me another one.”

The couch gave a dangerous groan, but I was too far gone to care. I came with a scream, my body convulsing as he thrust up into me. The force of it, combined with my wild movements, was too much for the poor piece of furniture. With a loud crack, one of the legs gave way, making the couch jerk to the side, but we didn’t stop.

We just went at it harder.