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Suddenly, an inextricable pull of arousal replaces my nerves.
Both his big hands wrap around my neck, pressing again on the carotid arteries as he takes me over and over, leaving me gasping with each powerful thrust of his hips.
Lighting me up as an orgasm builds deep within me.
Oh, God.
“That’s it,” he praises. “You’re doing so good, Red.”
I lift my hips to meet him, thrust for mind-numbing thrust.
Taking him deeper than I ever thought possible.
The sounds of our bodies moving together, along with his groans and my wheezing, raspy moans, fill the room and mix with the scent of sex and hunger.
Sawyer tightens his hold on me.
I can’t breathe.
Can’t think.
Can’t speak.
I’m lost. To the way I’m responding to him. To his hands on me. To my need to come.
“So close,” I whisper as his hands push infinitesimally harder.
Cutting off the last of my air.
“Come now,” he demands and releases me just as my eyes roll back into my head and a warm wave of euphoria washes over me.
I come hard and fast. My body convulses as I’m pulled under, drowning in wave after wave of mind-blistering pleasure.
Sawyer’s lips immediately replace his fingers, worshipping me. Kissing the sides of my throat, of my collarbone, then the other side of my neck. Sucking and scraping my skin with his beard as he thrusts harder, faster. Chasing his own orgasm. His hips snap against mine while I wrap my arms around his back and my nails score his skin.Oh. My. God.I moan. I might even scream it as I come again.
Every inch of my body becomes hyperaware.
Hypersensitive.
Pure electricity soars through me.
Every nerve receptor screaming that it’s too much.
Clinging to him.
Begging for more, without saying a word.
Sawyer comes on a long raspy, sexy, moan. His hands pin me to the bed as he empties himself in the condom. Those blue eyes remain locked on mine. Seeing too much.
Suddenly, I’m unsure whether the most incredible orgasm of my life was worth allowing myself to be this vulnerable with this man. But I’m way too far gone to think too hard on that, and I close my eyes again.
My body suddenly exhausted from the dopamine drop.
Sawyer climbs off the bed to dispose of the condom, then walks back into the room, pulling on his jeans. He sits on the mattress and runs his fingers through my hair, like they’re soft, silky, pretty tresses and not a wet, tangled mess, fresh from the shower. “I told you letting go of control can be fun, Red.”
“You did,” I yawn, not caring that I agreed with him for a change. “Maybe next time, it should be your turn to let go of some control.”
“I don’t think so.” A smile pulls at his lips, and butterflies take flight in my stomach.
