Page 195 of Holding On To Good

Until she started to move.

There was no build-up. No exploration. No gliding of her hips or long, slow undulations.

She ground down on him, hips pumping, hands on his chest as she rode him, hard and fast.

It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. The feel of her, so tight and wet and perfect. He was helpless, helpless and breathless, every muscle tense, lust shooting through him as she used him for her own means. He tried to hold on to some semblance of control, but it was an illusion.

When it came to Willow, he’d never had control. Not over his feelings. Not over how much he wanted her.

And even if he had, he’d gladly give it all up for more moments like this.

Would gladly give up anything, everything, for her.

Straightening, she set her hands on her thighs, the pose reminding him of how she’d looked only minutes ago kneeling in front of him. How she’d submitted to him. Given him his fantasy.

Now he’d do the same for her.

“Take it,” he murmured, gliding his fingers across her lower stomach, then pressing his thumb lightly against her clit. “Take what you need.”

The sound she made was a cross between a gasp and a groan as she lifted onto her knees then slammed down on him, again and again. Faster and faster. Her breasts bounced and he lifted his other hand so that one of her hard, pink nipples brushed against his palm with her movements. She was panting, her expression pained, as if what she wanted was just out of her reach.

He pinched her nipple. Pressed hard against her clit and lifted his hips, going deeper inside her.

She came with a hoarse scream, her head tossed back as she clenched around him. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to join her. But those same instincts that had warned him earlier were back. Cautioning him to be careful. Telling him to do whatever he could to prolong this.

She collapsed against him, breath hot and ragged on his chest. Still inside of her, he rolled her onto her back. Leaned down and kissed her, a soft, lingering kiss. One like he’d wanted to give her only moments ago. One full of all the confusing thoughts in his head. Of the conflicting emotions filling his chest.

One that said all the things he didn’t have the words for.

He broke the kiss and waited for her to open her eyes. When she did, he began to move.

“My turn,” he murmured.

Her eyes widened, the panic he’d tasted in her earlier kiss, in the fevered way she’d just fucked him, clear in her gaze. But she didn’t stop him. Didn’t push him away or try to wiggle out from beneath him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, lifted her hips, and moved with him.

Holding her gaze, he kept his strokes slow. Deliberate. He had a point to prove.

They were good together.

They belonged together.

Not as friends. Not just as lovers.

He let the tension, the anticipation build in both of them, felt it in the base of his spine. Heard it in the quickening of her breath. Sensed it in the slickness of her channel, in how she rolled her hips.

It was the single most intimate experience of his life. Being inside of her with nothing between them. Their bodies perfectly in sync. Gazes locked. He worked her with smooth, steady strokes, wanting nothing more than for her to come apart again.

Until tears filled her eyes.

And he was the one undone.

He stilled immediately. “Baby,” he whispered, a question in the endearment.

She shook her head. “Don’t stop.” Her hands went to his hair, her gaze studying his face, as if committing it to memory. “Please, don’t stop.”

He hesitated, her tears and those instincts once again holding him back, but she urged him on with a lift of her hips and he couldn’t help but give her what she wanted. What his body craved.

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