Page 137 of One Wrong Move

His cock springs free. It looks red, the crown nearly purple and weeping. It seems like another of those painful, aching erections.

Nate grabs my thighs and pulls me closer. I’m still wearing my short skirt, now just a belt around my waist.

He grips himself and runs the head of his cock along my folds. We both watch the movement, and I shudder when he brushes against my clit.

“Harper.” He fits the flared tip to my entrance. His voice is pained, and it comes out like a groan. “You’ll be mine after tonight.”

And then, he pushes in.

The sudden fullness makes my breathing hitch. He wedges deeper, inch after inch stretching me in the most delicious of ways. Sinking all the way to the hilt, he stills, his hands gripping my thighs.

Nate’s eyes are closed, and a sharp color spreads across his cheekbones. He’s kneeling between my thighs like he’s praying.

Like he’s worshiping.

I make a small mewling sound. Move, I think. I need you to move.

His eyes open, and then he does. He rolls his hips in a slow, punishing rhythm, and the angle makes my breaths shallow and rapid. It’s like he’s pushing against that spot inside with every thrust.

His thumb finds my clit and presses down, applying constant pressure.

All I can do is pant and hold on, my hands scrambling across the plush carpet for some kind of grip. And all the while, his eyes are fused on me. On my nipples, my stomach, my thighs, my eyes, my lips, and where he’s entering me.

I feel drunk on his gaze.

The rocking of hips increases, and there’s a sheen on his forehead. That’s when I realize that he’s still holding back.

Still trying to control the uncontrollable.

“Nate,” I whisper and reach up to grip my breasts, arching my back. I’ve never done this before, never been so eager to put on a show, but it feels fun. Freeing, intuitive, and I’m not thinking. Just being.

Nate’s movements stutter. It only takes a moment and then he’s on top of me. His arms braced beside my head and his hips moving fast and hard, unbridled, with no careful planning.

He really does fuck me into the floor.

I wrap my leg around him, and his pistoning stutters once more, becoming jagged. His eyes close and his face tightens. The sharp thrusts mean he hits my clit, and I come again, completely surprised by this orgasm. My gasp turns into a moan and my hands into claws on his shoulders.

Nate roars, and then he’s coming, too. He groans with every pulse of his cock, with every snap of his hips, and when it’s over, he collapses on top of me.

He’s heavy, and the feeling is delicious, being anchored down to the earth. I wrap both of my legs around him and tighten my arms.

“Good,” he finally mutters, pressing a kiss to my cheek. Raising himself up on an elbow. “You weren’t the least bit quiet.”

A flush spreads over my face. “Oh. Sorry.”

He shakes his head, and the crooked smile is back. Inside of me, I already feel him growing hard again. “Never apologize for that. I want to make you scream louder next time,” he says. “Let’s scandalize Paris, Harp.”

Nate

I wake up to a sleepy Harper in my arms, her body wiggling as if she’s trying to get out from under my arm.

I tighten my hold and nestle closer to the mass of her hair. “No,” I grunt. “It’s too early.”

She giggles. “I have to pee!”

“No.”

“You can’t deny me that.”

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