Page 39 of One Weekend in London

Needing to just feel and not think, I palm the back of his neck and bring him down to me. Pressing my forehead to his, I roll my hips to take him even deeper, relishing the growl that rumbles from deep within his chest.

Sensing my hesitation, he sits back on his heels, pulling me with him until I’m straddling his lap, his steel-like length still buried inside me. One hand grips my hip, the other fisting in my hair, holding me steady as he starts to thrust up into me, the new angle letting him hit a spot deep inside that makes me see stars.

Quite literally.

“Rhys!” My nails raking down his flexing back again, further marking him as my thighs squeeze his pistoning hips. “Don’t stop, I’m gonna—”

“That’s it, baby. Let go.” His hand falls from my hip and snakes between us to find my clit, circling it with the perfect amount of pressure, as if he owns the blueprint to my needy body. “I want to feel your sweet pussy coming on my cock. Milking me dry. Taking all I have to give.”

His words and one last thrust are the final straw.

I explode on a glass-shattering scream as I convulse around him, my walls clamping down on his throbbing length like a vise. With a curse I can’t decipher, Rhys buries his face in my neck, his hips stuttering, losing rhythm as he finds his own release, pulsing hot and deep inside me.

Once more boneless, I collapse against his chest, my breathing ragged, my heart threatening to crack my sternum before flying out of my chest. He holds me tight, running soothing hands down my sweat-slicked back as we both come down from the high.

Or in my case, return from heaven.

More than a few moments pass before he shifts us, lying me gently on the mess of a blanket and slipping free of my body. I mourn the loss immediately, feeling empty and aching without him.

But also bruised and battered from his size.

I take a breath, fighting to center myself. But then he’s rolling me onto my stomach and nudging my thighs apart, settling himself in the cradle of my hips.

“One more,” he rasps, his still-hard—How is this even frickin’ possible?—length sliding through my wetness, kissing my entrance. “I need to feel you shattering on my cock one more time.”

I nod, consenting.

“That’s my girl.” He pushes inside, sheathing himself to the hilt in one smooth thrust. I gasp at the sensation, so much deeper in this position, and fist my hands in the blankets as he starts to move, setting a slow, rolling rhythm that’s the opposite of before but quickly builds in intensity.

Skin slapping against skin.

The erotic sound fills the cabin, punctuated by our harsh breathing and the gentle lapping of waves against the yacht’s hull. It’s in this moment, just like many before it, that everything outside of us fades, narrowing down the euphoric drag of his body deep inside mine.

“Fucking hell.” His grip on my hips tightens, sure to leave more bruises. “I can’t get enough of you. This sweet pussy, this perfect arse.” His words are enough to make me swoon. That’s if I wasn’t being nearly fucked to death. “I could spend eternity buried inside you and never tire of it.”

Each time he speaks, he sends me spiraling higher, pushing me closer to another pinnacle. I’m close, so close, every nerve ending sparking, every cell in my body straining toward release.

All I need is one little push...

As if sensing my need, Rhys leans over me, his chest pressed to my back, his lips at my ear. “Stay with me, Sadie,” he breathes, and I can hear the tremor in his voice, the genuine emotion. “Let me love you like this every day, every night. Let me show you what our forever could be like.”

His plea, so raw and honest, is my undoing.

With a broken cry, I detonate in his arms, surrendering to the pleasure, the sheer intensity of my burgeoning feelings for this man. Just like before, Rhys follows me over with a hoarse shout of his own, our bodies in tune with one another, his pulsing deep inside me, flooding me with his heat.

Panting as if he’s just run a marathon at Kentucky Derby speed, he collapses half on top of me, his face buried in my hair, his heart thundering against my back. We lay like that for what feels like forever, our bodies entwined, our breathing slowly synchronizing.

And it just feels... right.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he rolls to the side, pulling me with him so we’re face-to-face, our noses nearly touching. His dark eyes, their flecks of bourbon, moss, and gold seeming to swirl together, search mine intently, as if trying to peer straight into my soul.

“I’m already falling for you, Sadie,” he murmurs, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. “Stay with me, love. Let me prove to you this is real, that I’m not going anywhere.”

My heart clenches, emotion welling in my throat. “Rhys, I...”

But he presses a finger to my lips, silencing me gently. “Shh, it’s all right, love. I know I’m asking for a lot after everything you’ve been through. But I’m not giving up. Never will.” A small, determined grin quirks his perfect mouth. “I’ll just have to keep convincing you, won’t I?”

Despite myself, I feel an answering smile tug at my lips. “You’re awfully sure of yourself, Mr. Kensington.”

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