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I grip her hips to still her. “Go easy.”
She shakes her head and repeats the same sequence, sucking in another gasping breath. “Oh my . . . fuck.” Her eyes roll up and then return to mine. “Right there. Every time, you hit the spot.” Her nails dig into my shoulder. “I’m going to come again.” She drops one hand between us, fingers dragging up the shaft as she rises. “So fucking incredible.” On the down slide, she circles her clit.
“Let me do that.” I take over, mimicking her movements as she rides me.
She keeps moving, bouncing on my cock, faster, harder, groaning low in her throat every time her ass hits my thighs.
She drops her hand to cover mine. “More pressure. You’re not going to break me.” She moans.
“Like this?” I circle harder and faster, but she presses down, showing me exactly what she wants and how she wants it.
“Just like that,” she says between labored breaths. “So good. Right there. So close.” Her mouth drops open and then clamps shut, body going rigid as the orgasm rolls through her. I feel her clench around me, and I have to focus on her so I can keep myself in check the way I need to. I keep circling until her fingers curl around mine and her head drops to my shoulder.
I run a hand down her spine. “How you doin’?”
She chuckles, and her lips sweep along the side of my neck. She nips at my jaw and kisses her way back to my lips.
“I thought maybe I’d imagined how amazing the sex was. Or romanticized it, but clearly, I didn’t.” She sucks my bottom lip. “It’s even better.”
Twenty-One
A Lot to Handle
Clover
“Iwant you on top of me.” I start to shift, but Maverick’s hand settles on my hips, and his fingers dig into the fleshy part of my ass.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“I think it’s a great idea.”
His hold tightens when I try to move. “I’m really jacked up, Clover.”
“How do you mean?” I roll my hips, loving the way it feels to have him inside me again.
“I don’t know if I can stay in control the way I need to if I’m on top.” His jaw works, teeth grinding together, though not from anger. He’s embarrassed . . . uncomfortable, maybe. “It’s better for you like this.”
I think about the sex we had back in August. It was incredible. The first time was in my bed, the second on the kitchen counter, and the third time was in the middle of the night. I’d pulled him on top of me, but he shifted us so I was straddling him again. Even when we ended up sixty-nining after the shower, I was on top—which makes sense considering his size and me needing control. But this is different.
“Okay.” I nod my understanding. “What are you afraid will happen if you’re not in control?”
“I’m too amped.” His eyes fall closed when I shift again. “I could hurt you. Not on purpose, but I could.”
I skim the edge of his jaw. “How would you hurt me?”
“I’m a lot to handle, which you already know.”
“Mmm . . .” I follow the ropy muscles in his shoulders. “I’ve handled you fine so far, wouldn’t you agree?”
His gaze shifts to mine, hot and desperate. “You’ve been on top. You’re in control.”
“So why don’t I stay on top for now, and you can help guide me?”
“Okay.” He laces our fingers together. “But if it gets to be too much, tell me, okay?”
“Of course, and you’ll do the same?”
He nods once. I have to wonder what his past experiences have been like to make him so worried about hurting me. But it seems to be part of who he is. Even back when we were two people acting on attraction and nothing else, my pleasure was paramount. His self-awareness makes him an exceedingly conscientious lover—maybe more than he realizes, and maybe to his own detriment.
