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I reached up, my fingers knotting into his damp hair to pull him back to my level. “Almost as badly as you want to be—”

I never finished the thought. Trace surged forward, a single, devastating drive that buried him deep. Hitting a mark so profound I felt the impact in the back of my throat. The force of it stole the air from the room. My vision fractured, a kaleidoscope of white-hot light and blurred edges as my pussy stretched to accommodate the sudden and total invasion.

His breath hitched, his entire body turning to stone as he fought the urge to come right then and there. My arms locked around his neck as the first wave of a new, more violent pressure began to build between us.

“Dakota,” he breathed, barely audible over the blood rushing in my ears.

“Don’t stop.”

“I couldn’t if I wanted to. You feel… You feel—”

“I know. Now stop talking and fuck me like you mean it.”

He let out a rough grunt and drove into me, a heavy, uncompromising thrust that sent a jolt of electricity straight to my core. The broad, thick head of his cock claimed the last bit of space I had to give. A sensation so overwhelming I was already on the ledge again, my body humming with a hunger that defied logic.

I wanted the leverage. I wanted to see him break.

Planting my hands on his shoulders, I gave him a shove and used the momentum to roll us over. His breath left him in a huff, but he stayed buried deep as I straddled him, my knees dipping the mattress.

“Now you’re mine,” I whispered, leaning down until my lips brushed the shell of his ear.

A flicker of something close to agony crossed his face. The pure, beautiful torture of a man who had lost his grip on the reins. I placed one palm flat over his racing heart and the other on his thigh, then I began to move.

Trace cursed a string of filthy words as I set the pace, riding him with a relentless, grinding focus. My pussy clenched around him with every slide, milking the length of him until he was trembling beneath me.

“Dakota,” he choked out, his hips jerking up in a desperate, involuntary search for the finish.

I didn’t give him an inch of mercy. I leaned back and picked up the pace, my pussy tightening into a singular, crushing vice. I was a trap he couldn’t escape, and felt the exact moment his endurance finally bottomed out.

Trace’s entire body went rigid, his spine arching off the bed as something between a roar and a sob ripped from his throat. His eyes rolled back while he fought for a breath that wouldn’t come.

Then the first surge hit.

His cock jerked violently inside me, a thick, desperate pulsing that I felt deep inside. He poured himself into me in scorching bursts, his dick pumping against my walls as if it were the very heart of him. Every feverish jet of his cum made my own release spiral out of control, the friction and the flood of him sending me over the edge until I was screaming his name over and over.

He didn’t just come. He came apart. His fingers dug into my hips in a way that would bruise later, his knuckles white as he held me locked on his cock, trying to survive the intensity of our unraveling.

He stayed inside me long after the final, fading twitch, his chest heaving as he stared up at me with a look of total, dazed defeat.

I collapsed onto Trace’s chest, a sweat-slicked landscape beneath me as my heart hammered a frenetic rhythm against his. For a long time, the only sound in the room was our combined, ragged breathing.

“I should’ve known,” he rasped, his voice sounding like it had been dragged over gravel. His hands stayed locked on my hips, his thumbs tracing the skin there as if he were still trying to convince himself I was real. “I should’ve known you’d be this much of a problem.”

I tilted my head, my cheek resting against the damp skin of his shoulder. “A problem? I thought a football star like you would like a challenge.”

He let out a breathy, tired laugh, and finally wrapped his arms around me, pulling me flush against him. “There’s a difference between a challenge and a total tactical failure, Dakota. You leveled the damn field.”

“Good,” I whispered, closing my eyes as the exhaustion finally started to settle into my bones. “I’d hate for you to walk away from this thinking you were still in charge.”

“No chance.”

There was a beat, and I said, “So you’re not going to brush it off like you did last time?”

I knew that was a mistake when the words left my mouth, but by that time it was too late to take them back. I needed him to know how I’d felt that day, and I needed to remind myself of how stupid I acted. Trace didn’t say anything, but he did seem uncomfortable, and that worried me.

“Thank you,” he whispered a little while later.

I frowned. “For what?”