Page 86 of Manhattan Kiss

He kneels back, pulling me with him, my bottom on his thighs. The shift in angle makes everything hit different, and I scream. Everything he does feels so good.

“God, I’m so hard,” he bites out. “I never want to stop fucking you.”

“Don’t! Not ever,” I say.

I can’t bear the thought of never feeling like this again. And no one will ever make me feel like this again.

He shifts and rearranges me so I’m standing, and bent over the sofa and he’s behind me. As he slides in again, he calls my name. “Fuck,” he spits out. “How is it this good?”

He reaches under me for my clit, and my legs buckle at his first touch. I can’t take any more. His dick inside me is too much.

He chuckles behind me, then hooks his arms under mine so we’re standing straight, his front to my back, and he thrusts up and up and up as he holds me against him.

I can’t hold myself upright. This man has taken everything from me and given me everything at the same time. I’m his to do with as he pleases.

His palm snakes down my stomach and lies flat against it, pressing me closer to him, pushing low between my hip bones, and pleasure tunnels deep inside me and bursts up like a tidal wave of euphoria.

I cry out in desperation, in longing, in goddamn bliss. Behind me, Deacon pushes into me, like he’s trying to extract every ounce of pleasure he can from me, and I feel him stiffen and groan.

This isn’t sex.

This isn’t anything I’ve ever experienced before.

This is life. This is lust. This may be love. But I can’t say that. I can’t allow myself to even think it.

“Aurora,” he whispers.

He pulls out of me, and I turn in his arms.

“You’re phenomenal,” he whispers.

I feel his come down my thigh, and I never want to shower. I want to bathe in his come. To drink it, to feast on it. I feel like I’ll do anything this man asks me and plenty he won’t even have to.

I gaze up at him, and he scoops me up off my feet and takes me into the bedroom.

“I’m not done with you.”

Don’t ever be, I don’t say.

He sets me down on the bed and heads to the bathroom. He comes back with a warm washcloth and kneels at my feet.

I reach between my legs, almost protectively.

“Don’t worry,” he says, reading my mind. “You can have more.”

He wipes his come from my legs. When he reaches my pussy, the throbbing that’s never fully stopped since I came starts to intensify, and I let out a whimper.

The corners of Deacon’s mouth twitch in amusement. “Ready again so soon?”

His own erection rears in front of me, and I reach for it. Sucking Deacon’s cock is something I’ve actually daydreamed about since that first kiss. Holding it with two hands, I push my cupped hands down the shaft. I remember he likes me not to hold him, so when I wrap my lips around his crown, I drop my hands and slip them under my bottom.

He groans in appreciation.

He’s big, so I can’t take much of him, but the feeling of his velvety cock filling my mouth is just what I want. I need him to know that I’ll do anything for him. Try anything for him. I want him to understand that I’m his.

I try to take him deeper than last time. It makes my eyes water and my nipples tighten.

He cups my face. “You look so good with your mouth filled with my cock.”