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I start to move, easing over his shaft, grinding down and rocking against him as he fills me fuller than I’ve ever been. My hips snap time and again, all the while Quinn is beneath me, arching up as I come down, whispering one dirty encouragement after another. Telling me how bad he wants me… How good I feel… How tight I am around him… How hard I’m using him and how much he fucking loves it.
And when I get close, he licks his thumb and presses it against my clit, rubbing just right until I shatter, coming apart around him.
I collapse over his chest, wondering if I’ll ever catch my breath again. Wondering if I’ll ever stop wanting this.
Quinn’s warm hand strokes over my back, following a possessive path over my ass and then back up into my hair.
“You good, Georgie?”
I’m amazing. “Yeah.”
“My turn?” he asks, his lips brushing my ear.
I hadn’t really thought about that, but it seems only fair. “Your turn.”
His arm bands across my back, holding me against him as he rolls us. And then I’m beneath him, his shaft still buried deep, his groin pressed flush against my sensitive sex.
It feels even better like this.
I wanted to be on top because there was less vulnerability in that position. I felt like I’d be more in control. And I was right. Because beneath him, I feel helpless. I feel like I would let this man do anything to me, take anything from me. That, like this, I might even believe the lies in his eyes again.
It’s dangerous, but it feels so good, there’s no way I’ll tell him to stop.
“Are you going to use me now?” I whisper, my fingers trailing over his chest.
The look he gives me sets off every warning alarm I have, even as it releases a thousand butterflies deep in my belly and stirs the need he just sated.
“Not even close, Georgeous.”
Chapter 10
George
Margo opens the door and pulls a spoon from her mouth. “Oh man, what did he do now?”
I take a shuddering breath, fighting the quiver in my chin. “That bastard made love to me!”
She chokes a little and waves me in.
Tonight she’s wearing an expensive-looking pair of low-riding white sweatpants and a matching cropped hoodie that looks amazing against her dark skin and would probably leave me looking like a washed-out corpse.
I follow her into the living room and stop while she gathers up… I don’t even know.
“What’s this?”
“Vision board,” she mumbles, moving a corkboard covered with magazine clippings, scraps of ribbon and a bit of fabric to the coffee table so I can sit beside her.
“If you want a drink, I’ll get you one but not until after. I want an unclouded, fully detailed account.” Gripping my hand, she leans in close. “There isno such thingas too much information. Blink once if you understand.”
Man, she’s intense.
I blink. But then an eyelash or magazine mote gets in my eye and I end up blinking about thirty times, which puts Margo into her huffy place.
“What does that even mean?” she shrieks.
“I get it! You want details.” I sigh, rubbing at my eye with the back of my hand. “But I’m not really a sharing kind of girl.”
She gives me a pointed look. “No?”
