Page 41 of Caught from Behind

Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam.

And then he slides another finger inside me.

I cry out, shattering into a million pieces under that tumult of bricks.

But he doesn’t stop—his fingers keep pumping, his mouth continues working me, his shoulders keep my legs wide.

“I—”

A nip on my inner thigh has me jumping, nails scrabbling on the wood over my head.

And then he’s slipping a third finger inside me, leaning back onto his knees, gaze shifting, watching as he finger fucks me slow and deep.

I’m practically shivering with need again, but he’s not in any hurry.

The slick sounds of my desire tangle with the rasp of my pulse in my ears, with the rapid puffs of my breaths.

“Riggs,” I say.

Or beg.

His eyes slowly lift to mine and I shiver again at the smile on his face. Cocky, confident…utterly in this moment with me.

“Please,” I whisper.

I want him inside me. I need it.

I’ve been desperate for it for months now.

Something he seems to sense, or maybe it’s that he’s been in the same state as me—wanting me with greedy intent—because he reaches into his back pocket, pulls out his wallet, and retrieves a condom.

“Birth control is hot,” I declare.

His eyes flick down to mine again and this time his smile is softer. This time it settles in me, deep inside me. “I’ve got you, baby,” he murmurs.

There’s that blip of fear again, of alarm and worry and panic tangling through my insides.

A crinkle.

The noise snaps me out of it, sending the twisted feelings away like smoke on the breeze as I watch him roll the condom down the length of his seriously impressive erection.

Then he’s rising over me again.

He doesn’t thrust home as I half expect—or maybe hope. Instead, he braces himself on one hand, reaches for where I’m still grabbing at the headboard and gently removes one of my hands and then the other.

“I don’t have to behave any longer?” I tease.

That gorgeous mouth of his hitches up.

“Oh no, chérie,” he says, drawing my arms around his neck. “You’re not going to be thinking about behaving—” A press of his lips to mine. “Or misbehaving, rather.” He notches the head of his cock at the entrance of my body, starts to press that wide, thick cock inside me. “You’re not going to think about anything except for holding on.”

And then he thrusts home.

And then…he’s right.

I’m not thinking about teasing him.

I’m not thinking about the perfect burn of his cock stretching me wide, the hard thrusts of our bodies meeting, the hot, wet kiss he lays on me.

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