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“Faster,” he mutters, closing his eyes.
“Watch me.” I squeeze his chin.
He opens his eyes and flashes a wicked smile. “Your fucking cunt is magic,” he says in a low growl.
That’snever been my favorite word, but somehow having Dex say it when he’s inside me turns it into poetry. I move up and down, riding him with agonizingly slow strokes. Enjoying the feel of every inch. All my nerve endings focus on the slow slide of our skin.
“Give me your hands,” he says.
I hold them palms up between us. He carefully pulls them behind my back and uses one of his hands to pin mine in place. I have to arch my back. Without the ability to hold on, the fear that I’ll fall digs into me.
“I’ve got you,” Dex promises, resting his hand on my thigh. “Keep fucking me.”
He’s right. I’m worrying so much, I’ve stopped moving. I rock my hips forward and try to tug my hands free. But he tightens his grip.
“No.” He cups one of my breasts. “I like you like this.”
Heat pools inside me. I move faster. Without anything to hold onto, I focus on where we’re connected instead, shamelessly grinding myself against him.
“That’s it,” he encourages.
He presses his palm flat against my lower stomach. The extra pressure sends a sharp ribbon of euphoria spiraling through me.
“Oh!” My eyes fly open, focusing on his determined face.
“Let go,” he rasps. “Give it to me.”
All the tension inside me explodes, rippling and spreading to every nerve ending.
“Good girl.” He releases my hands and grabs my hips, driving himself up into me. Brutal thrusts that draw out my own pleasure. He curses and thrusts again, once, twice. His body goes completely still. He groans as he releases inside me. I rest my hands on his shoulders and slowly circle my hips until he groans again.
I’ll hear those sexy sounds he makes in my sleep tonight.
After a few breaths, his eyes blink open. He reaches for my hands, staring at my wrists. When he seems satisfied he didn’t leave a mark, he presses his lips to my pulse points.
Gentle. He’s such a big man, but oh, so gentle with me.
“I’m fine.” I lean closer, pressing my lips to his bristly cheek. He curls his arms around me, holding me tight for a few seconds. “Better than fine.”
I carefully extract myself from his lap and lean over to grab my pants. He curls his fist in them and pulls.
“You don’t need ’em.”
“You want me to walk around my house naked?”
His gaze sweeps over me and he nods.
Laughing, I run my fingers through his hair for a second. “There’s a bathroom down that hallway. And you know where the other one is.” I nod toward the stairs. “I’m going to get some water.”
He narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything. I snag my T-shirt and run for the kitchen, slipping it over my head before I push open the door. Smiling to myself, I grab two large, acrylic tumblers and fill them with ice water.
Above my head, water gurgles through the pipes. I guess Dex chose the upstairs bathroom. Why does it make me so damn happy he’s that comfortable here?
Carrying the glasses of water, I push through the kitchen door and head upstairs. I pass a mirror on the wall and stop. I’m a mess. My cheeks and chest glow red. My hair’s fuzzy, some of it sticking up in weird places.
Am I so hypnotized by the best sex of my life that I’m really going to overlook the fact that Dex runs a strip club?
I stare at myself for a few more seconds, then shrug. He didn’t go home with any of them. No, he rode straight tomyhouse.
