Page 186 of Holding On To Good

Pressure grew, her pleasure building with each quick stroke of his fingers, expanding inside of her, but it was just out of reach. Frustration made her hot. Antsy. Breathing hard, she pushed herself onto her hands, gripping the edge of the stairs and lifting her hips so she could pump against him, needing him deeper. But even as she sought her climax, even as she gladly, willingly gave him control of her body, she kept her lower lip clamped firmly between her teeth, to stop herself from giving him what he wanted. To hold back the truth that was building in her throat, trying to burst free.

But then he lowered his head and pressed his mouth against her lower belly and she finally began to spiral. Higher. Higher. Closer. And closer.

“Mine,” he said again, except this time it was soft. Not a demand.

A plea.

She bucked against him, her body shaking and clenching around him as her orgasm tore through her, ripping a hoarse scream from her throat along with one simple word.

Yours.

Urban kept his head pressed against the softness of Willow’s belly as he watched her come, his cock swelling even more as her body vibrated with pleasure, her expression rapturous.

He was shaking. His breathing ragged. His entire body hot and hard, his muscles clenched with the need to take. To claim the woman before him.

Yours.

He wasn’t even sure she realized she’d said it, but a confession made in the throes of passion was still a confession.

And while he’d had to coerce it from her, he couldn’t regret it. Not when she was still trembling with aftereffects of her climax, her pussy slick and tight around his fingers.

He couldn’t regret it, not when it was everything he’d always wanted to hear.

And he wouldn’t let her take it back.

She would. The moment she came back to herself, she’d make some excuse as to why he shouldn’t believe it. That it was the heat of the moment and not what was really in her heart. She’d talk and talk and talk, twisting her words to suit her purposes. Trying to convince them both that it hadn’t meant anything.

That it didn’t change anything.

He’d have to prove her wrong.

Lifting his head, he noted the flush in her cheeks, the softness of her gaze, the way her lips were parted, her breaths coming out in short pants. He wanted to pound his chest. Throw back his head and roar at having been the man to put that look in her eyes. At having drawn those sounds from her mouth.

He felt powerful. More so when he slowly withdrew his fingers from her body and, holding her gaze, lifted them to his mouth. She whimpered and shifted, the scent of her arousal filling his nostrils as her taste exploded on his tongue. But before he could savor the flavor, before he could tug her pants off and taste her fully, she reared up and lunged at him.

She was thin, yes, but she was strong and when she wanted something, she was powerful.

And she wanted him.

So much that she almost sent them both tumbling down the stairs.

Luckily, he managed to catch her with one arm around her waist, the other pressed against the wall to maintain their balance. But then his world shifted and spun as she latched her mouth to his, greedily swiping her tongue against his, tracing his lips as if trying to capture any remaining taste of herself clinging there. Moaned as if she caught that taste and ground against him.

Control. Shattered.

He lifted her once again and took the stairs two at a time—a feat he wouldn’t have thought possible carrying one hundred and twenty pounds, but the circumstances demanded swift action and he needed to be on his bed and cock-deep inside of her. Now.

But that was easier said than done with her still kissing him like she couldn’t get enough. With her tits brushing against his chest, her nipples hard and begging to be sucked and pinched. At the top of the stairs, he took a moment to do just that, pressing her against the wall while he dry-humped her like a teenager and she clawed at his back. Then sanity—and desperation—returned and he hurried down the hall to his room, Bella once again racing around them.

He strode over to his neatly made bed and tossed Willow onto it with enough force to have her bouncing—which he took yet another moment to enjoy—then reached over to flip on the lamp next to the bed.

Bella jumped up next to Willow, Willow’s bra hanging from her mouth.

“I’ll buy you a new bra, too,” he promised Willow before swiping it from his dog, balling it up and throwing it out into the hall.

When Bella gave chase, he followed and shut the door. Bella barked once, letting him know he’d pay for this indignity—more than likely in the form of chewing his new sneakers to bits once she was done with the bra.

But then he turned to find Willow had somehow managed to yank down the covers and gotten completely naked in the past thirty seconds, and seeing her kneeling on his bed, her pale skin luminous against his dark blue sheets, her pale hair messy from his hands, was everything he’d dreamed it would be.

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