Page 43 of Deep Cover

Suddenly, she planted her hands on his shoulders and applied pressure. Knowing what she wanted as instinctively as drawing breath, he rolled with her.

She landed on top of him, her hair tumbling around her shoulders and her cheeks flushed with desire. His cock was rooted deep in her pussy, and she took what she wanted.

And he saw it in her eyes. She needed this control. Needed to know that this time, he wouldn’t be the one making the choices for both of them.

He’d hurt her enough. If she gave him another chance, he’d do everything in his power to make sure he never did it again.

She pushed down on his length, milking him with every inch of her. Her nails curled into his chest, and he enjoyed the stinging bite, wishing he could take her pain and draw it into himself and carry it for her so she could be free.

She shivered as she rose on him again, withdrawing and slamming down over and over. Her head dropped back, and he couldn’t see her eyes but her pulse drumming in her throat told him she was close.

She was dripping wet, soaking his cock, and he was so fucking close he wasn’t sure he could last.

Cupping her breasts, he swished his thumbs over her tight nipples with the pressure to send her over the edge. With a cry, she snapped her head forward, lips parted on a gasp as he toyed with her nipples and she rode him toward the finish.

“Reid.” Her voice came out small. Then grew louder. “Reid!”

“Come for me, baby. That’s right. I’ve got you,” he told her for the second time, meaning it more than ever.

With a hard jerk, she came apart and destroyed him in the process. His body responded to her and followed her into madness. The first spurt of cum showered her walls as she shook around him, pulsing and milking every last drop.

A final cry escaped her and she collapsed on top of him, boneless and languid.

Perfect.

Right where she belongs.

* * * * *

Caryssa had let Reid back into her bed. That didn’t mean she’d let him back into her heart.

She was tangled in his sheets, in his arms. Her blood was slowing in her veins and her eyelids were heavy.

None of that meant she’d let down her guard.

She should be thinking about the case. What could be on those laptops. She should be hovering over O’s shoulder as he chewed through data that might crack this whole case open.

Instead, she lay with her head pillowed on her lover’s chest, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

“You’ve changed,” he said, breath ruffling the hair on her temple.

She tensed for a beat before pushing out a sigh. “So have you.” He had a new penchant for pinning her to walls and beds—and she liked it. A lot. It made her analyze this newer, more alpha side of him that needed control.

He traced slow lines along her shoulder. “You were always serious. I used to have to work my ass off to get a smile out of you.” His fingers slowed. “But I could get one.”

She considered his words, weighing the version he was describing against the woman she was now. She barely recognized that person anymore. It was buried beneath years of case files and chained with a grief she’d never let herself fully feel because she didn’t know how to admit it was big enough to swallow her.

“I had a reason.” She said it simply, without digging for sympathy.

“I know.” His voice held a small catch.

She shifted against him and found his gaze in the low light. “You’ve changed too. I saw your handwriting on that board in the kitchen—the board with the bets on it.”

He studied her but didn’t speak.

“I never pictured you as a betting man.”

He huffed a noise that wasn’t quite a laugh. “It’s not about the money. It’s a mental health thing. Something light to keep us all going. If I can do my part…” He trailed off and then picked up again. “In this line of work, you find outlets where you can.”