Page 140 of Holding On To Good

Urban knew it, too. Was still teasing. Tempting. Waiting for her to beg again.

She didn’t. Wouldn’t. Instead, she rocked her hips, taking him even deeper.

They both groaned.

No, she wouldn’t beg. But she was going to do her best to make sure he did.

Crossing her ankles, she pressed them into his lower back for leverage as she moved against him.

He released a shaky breath. “Willow…”

And readjusted his grip on her ass, fingers digging into her skin as he hefted her higher, the muscles of his arms bunching and flexing, hips working like a piston as he took her faster and faster. Her nipples brushed the coarse hair of his chest, an added point of sensation when she was already so close to being overwhelmed by them.

The feel of his hands on her ass, gripping her hard, the wash of his breath against the side of her neck. The hard, hot length of his cock stroking, stroking, stroking. The play of his muscles under her hands. The slap of their bodies, the heavy rush of their breath. The scent of sex.

It was so much, almost too much, each sensation was a chisel quickly, methodically, chipping away at her defenses. Her control.

Each one carving chunks from the wall of denial she’d built around her heart.

She pressed her face into the crook of his neck, kissed the delicate, hot skin just below his beard, frantic, open mouth kisses as she fought everything she was feeling. Licked him, like a cat, from the edge of his beard to below his ear, tasting the salt and musk, sweat and man. Bit the strong, corded muscle of his neck, sharp and quick, strong enough, she knew to sting.

He growled, raw and animalistic, and bent his knees, sliding her down the wall to take her harder. Faster still.

Willow tried to hold off the orgasm spiraling toward her, some instinctual part of her brain wanting her to fight it. To maintain control.

To protect her heart.

But it was a losing battle. Her body wanted release more than her next breath and each thrust of his body sent her closer toward climax. She was no match for it, no match for the scratch of his beard against her neck, the swipe of his tongue along her skin. No match for how basic and just how completely good it was, him inside her, their bodies meeting again and again in a perfect, frantic rhythm.

No match for how right it felt, being with him this way.

She ground against him, and when Urban shifted slightly, tipping her back against the wall, she lost the battle. Stars burst behind her closed eyelids, her body bowing with the force of her climax, hips still thrusting, milking the orgasm for every last drop of bliss.

With a long, low groan, Urban followed her over the edge, shuddering with his own release.

No, she was no match for her feelings. No match for the things Urban did to her.

She just hoped she’d be a match for the heartbreak that was going to come with it.

Urban couldn’t feel his legs.

Seemed a small price to pay for an orgasm that’d ripped the air from his lungs so he wasn’t about to complain.

Hell, he was so satisfied—with himself, with Willow and life in general—he might never complain again.

Especially since he knew once feeling did return, his thighs were going to burn like crazy after the workout they’d just had.

Again, small price to pay.

Willow stirred and his cock, still inside of her, did as well.

A price that’d been totally worth it.

But staying inside of her after mind-blowing sex wasn’t the best way to ensure the condom’s effectiveness so he slowly withdrew, keeping his face pressed against the side of her neck, shifting her in his arms so that her wet core was pressed against his lower stomach.

They were both breathing hard, their bodies glued together with sweat. He kissed the side of her neck, let his mouth linger there, tasting the saltiness of her skin, inhaling the clean scent of her shampoo.

She stiffened. Her breath catching. Both actions were slight, probably neither would’ve been noticeable if they weren’t pressed together. If he wasn’t so in-tune with her every movement.

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