Page 33 of Take Her from You

My hitched breath turned into a moan when he slid a finger inside me. It said a lot how wet and ready I was. Even seeing him turned me on, so being naked on his lap? Game over.

Valentine glided that finger in and out, using the heel of his hand on my clit, his tongue stroking mine. His other hand grazed my breast, once more diving inside my bra to take the handful he so liked.

I whimpered, arching into him more. Needing this so badly.

Valentine read every sign like a book. Not once did he pause. Not once did his rhythm falter. He toyed with my nipple, suckedmy tongue, worked my clit. It was all I could do to let him. We were so close, so hot together.

Another thick finger speared me, and I moaned, the insistent coil of an orgasm approaching.

In exacting moves, Valentine built it up, stoking a fire in me until I was surging against him, riding his hand, mindless, driven on. Then I broke, shuddering with the release I’d so badly needed. It danced through me, drawing a wave of sparkling lights and bliss.

Holy cow. How…?

I couldn’t finish a thought.

He broke our connection, breathing hard, and drifted his knuckles down my cheek. “Fucking hell, little spy. You’re so gorgeous, hear me? Watching ye fall apart on my lap is branded in my brain, and all I want now is to slide my dick into ye so I can feel another orgasm tightening around me. But I have to say we don’t have to take this further. Ye might’ve initiated it, but I let my attraction to ye drive me on. If this doesn’t feel right?—”

“It does.”

I was adamant. I wanted this.

He switched his gaze between my eyes. “Thank fuck. Then there’s something else I need to be sure about. This is going to sound messed up, but I still need to say it. Tell me you’re naw in love with anyone else.”

I tilted my head, dizzy but confused.

His history returned to me. The story he told me in the bar. The woman he’d planned to marry had been in love with another man.

“There’s no one else,” I promised.

“Good. And the other thing is I can’t promise more than sex. I can’t offer anything beyond making ye feel good. Just need to put that out there, too.”

“No problem for me. I don’t want more.”

He took a breath, his chest inflating. “Anything ye need to confirm?”

I’d never considered my own terms, but one was instantly there, cramming forward to be heard. “You actually want to do this with me,” I said.

Valentine grinned. Under me, his dick pulsed. “There’s your answer, but for the record, I’ve never wanted anything more. We good?”

I was halfway to inclining my head when he grasped my hips, got into position, then filled me with one deep plunge.

A groan ripped from me, echoed by him. He let me settle, just holding me while I adjusted to the size of him. To that huge dick inside me. He stretched me, parts of me lighting up in a series of mini explosions.

My eyes closed, and my arms banded around his neck without even being aware, every sense trained on what he’d done.

My pulse skipped along like a scared little bird.

Nothing had ever felt like this. Both strange and incredible. I was a twenty-five-year-old woman, a mom, and in stark realisation, I knew I’d never had good sex before.

“Hold on to me,” Valentine muttered, his tone gruff.

With his arms supporting me, he lifted me from his lap so he could drive in and out of me. I gaped against him, struggling to breathe through my desire.

“Tell me how that feels,” he asked.

I untangled myself from him, seeking his mouth to kiss him. “Incredible.”

His hands eased from my hips to my chest. He stroked my breasts, returning to the action that had started all this. “Ride me while I play with these again.”

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