Page 78 of Striker’s Rebel

He moves harder, his fingers staying exactly where I need them.

The pleasure builds again before I’m ready for it.

My thighs tighten around his hips.

“Striker.”

“I know.”

The arrogance should irritate me.

Instead, my whole body clenches around him.

His rhythm falters.

“Fuck, June.”

That gets me.

Seeing him lose control because of me.

Hearing it in his voice.

I tighten around him again deliberately.

His eyes narrow.

“Little fucking menace.”

I grin.

Then he drives into me harder and wipes the grin right off my face.

The second orgasm hits faster than the first. I bite into his shoulder.

Striker curses, his hand gripping my hip as his control finally breaks.

His last few thrusts turn rough and uneven before his body goes rigid over mine.

Then he collapses against me, breathing hard.

For several seconds, neither of us moves.

I’m not sure I could if I tried.

Eventually Striker lifts his head.

“You bite hard.”

“You survived.”

“Barely.”

“Tragic.”

His mouth curves.

“You good?”