Page 165 of Holding On To Good

But then she was touching him again and decapitation was a small price to pay for having her hands smoothing along his sides, her mouth on his chest, her tongue sneaking out to taste his skin. She kept touching him, hands kneading his shoulders and upper back, fingers smoothing along his neck, combing through his hair, as he bent to retrieve the condom tucked in his wallet.

The moment he straightened, she kissed him again, riding his cock where it nestled in her curls.

“Need you,” he muttered against her mouth as he sheathed himself. “Now.”

He stepped back, lined himself up to her center.

And stopped dead when she pressed a hand against his chest. “Is this right?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Unless I’ve been doing it wrong all these years…”

She laughed.

The woman he had wet, naked and spread out, laughed. And instead of being a boner-killer, it made him even harder. Made him want to plunge into her, absorb her laughter, her joy as his own.

He was so fucking gone over this woman.

“No,” she said, still smiling. “I mean, is this the way you imagined it. In your fantasy.”

It wasn’t. He’d admitted enough to her earlier that she knew it wasn’t. Just as he’d admitted that it wasn’t a romantic scenario where he wooed her with words he didn’t have. Where he was gentle and slow.

Breath lodged in his chest, pulse pounding in his ears, he shook his head.

“Show me,” she breathed, her tone soft with challenge. Thick with desire. “Show me the things you do to me in your dreams.”

The beast inside of him roared and beat its chest in triumph, but Urban kept his movements slow and steady as he dragged her to the edge of the desk then lifted her off so she stood before him.

He shuffled back two steps then set his hands on her waist. He was shaking, trembling with need and battling to hold on to some small piece of restraint as he turned her around, then pressed a hand between her shoulder blades until she was bent over the desk.

And fuck, it was just like his fantasy, her back arched, her bare ass sticking up, ready and waiting for him.

Two more shuffled steps, this time forward, and she widened her stance, giving him room between her legs. He lined his cock to her center, rubbing the head along her warm, wet opening and she wiggled her ass, tried to push back, trying to take him in but he gripped her hips and stilled her movements.

“Hold on,” he commanded gruffly.

He waited once more, this time for her to stretch her arms out to the sides and wrap her fingers around the edge of the desk, then he bent over her, this time gently pressing her head down until her cheek rested on the desktop. Easing back, he lifted her hips, angling her up, his hands once more at her waist, his thumbs just above the twin dimples at the base of her spine.

He wanted to take his time. Needed to. Fantasies come true shouldn’t be rushed, and he’d never be able to prove to Willow how good it was between them, how good they were together and only with each other, if he pounded into her like a mindless animal.

But it turned out fantasies come true were even better than the dreams they were based on. And having Willow open and ready for him, her body vibrating with anticipation and need, was hotter than anything his imagination could come up with.

Keeping one hand on her lower back, he drove into her with a slow, deep thrust. She arched her back, taking him in with a low, guttural sound of pleasure.

He stayed that way for several long breaths, seated in her to the hilt, wishing he could prolong this moment. Could savor it. But she was hot and wet and so damn tight, and she kept her cheek on the desk. Kept her hands outspread and holding on to the edge of the desk. Kept still and silent, this time waiting for him. Letting him take control.

Giving it to him.

Giving him his fantasy.

He pulled back, slow and steady then plunged deep. Did it again. And again. Each time getting faster. Harder. Until the entire desk was shaking, the legs scraping against the floor. The only sounds their harsh breathing and the slap of the front of his thighs against the back of hers.

But it didn’t matter that he was fucking her like a wild man, taking and taking and taking what he’d wanted for so long. She was with him. She was one hundred percent with him, still holding on to the desk but now with her head lifted and thrown back, her hips rolling as she met him thrust for thrust.

All he could do was grind his back teeth together and fight his own release as he kept the same wild cadence. Dragged her back so her ass was off the desk, his fingers digging into her hips as he slammed into her over and over.

It was that change in angle, that pace that had her breaking.

Had her giving into him once again, making this his fantasy come true for real.

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