Page 58 of Throttle

There’s anguish in his eyes. Regret on what happened. But despite it, I’m giving him the permission he seeks.

“I was an ass and acted like a fucking idiot for—”

I press a finger to his soft lips, then drag it to his full bottom one. He halts for an instant, softly nipping at my finger, and then he leans in, his mouth almost brushing against mine. His warm, minty and strawberry breath surrounds my cheeks. The moment he kisses me—it’s explosive. At first, his touch is delicate, as if he’s cherishing the feeling. Desiring to savor every single aspect of it.

He moves his tongue with mine, alternating between playful and intense. And the softness disappears. It’s a desperate need for us both.

As he squeezes my waist, an overwhelming desire to let myself be consumed by him awakens. Climbing onto his lap, I fist his hair while we share breaths.

“Jesus Christ, I knew it. So sweet. Just like candy.” He kisses me everywhere. From my neck, collarbone, to my breasts. “I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this. On you.”

If only it were more.

“Shut up and keep doing what you are doing. Don’t you dare stop.” Never stop.

“Not a chance.” With a firm grip on the back of my head, he pulls me toward him, and our lips meet again. It’s rough and desiring. A need being fulfilled.

I move my hips against him. My shorts riding up with each dance, leaving my butt cheeks exposed.

Throttle clenches my skin, forcing me to sink further into his firmness.

He’s a stone and… Oh! He’s not wearing any boxers.

While attempting to sneak my hand into the front of his enticing grey sweatpants, he catches me, ending our kiss. He pauses, giving me a steady look, then allows me to proceed. I gasp when he rubs circles on my clit with his thumb, sending my body spiraling.

We’re both breathless and it’s incredible.

When he slips two fingers inside my wet folds, my eyes roll back and I ride his hand, still stroking his length. “You feel fucking amazing, my girl. And this, right here, your touch, Christ, it's the best thing ever.”

I moan in pleasurable agony as he goes in and out of my slick wetness. I keep pleasuring him, unable to disregard his thickness. He attracts women like moths to a flame.

He’s perfection.

My strokes become faster and more intense as he speeds up his finger thrusts. I cry out at the same time he lets out a deep, low moan, but I continue stroking every inch of him. He pulls out, leaving me soaked and begging for more. I crave so much more. But then he stops me.

“Was it not good?” I question, hoping that’s not the case.

“Not Good?” He raises a brow and licks the evidence of me off his fingers. “Oh, no, my Tequila Rose. It was more than good, but when I come, I want to be inside you.” He lifts me effortlessly up off the floor, and I wrap my legs around his waist. Holy crap, that has to take some strength.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful, it feels sinful.” He smirks, and my heart dances in my throat.

Gently, he throws me onto the familiar bed where I've slept countless times. I observe him standing tall over me, kneeling on either side of my body. Tearing off my sweater, he moves on to my shirt, taking it off and exposing my breasts, embraced by a lace bra. I tremble with pleasure as his fingers caress my skin.

“Are you cold?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m just. I…” Scared. Terrified. The result will break me. I close off the consequences and return to the present.

“I know, me too.” His breath lines my cheek, causing a moan from my lips.

My longing for him is so strong, only a natural disaster could end us.

His gaze roams over my exposed figure, and although I’m vulnerable, I refuse to retreat. He tosses his worn band shirt, and it falls onto the floor beside his bed. I need a minute to drool over his body. He’s beautiful. The ink on his chest, arms, and abs stresses his athletic prowess. Whether four, six, or maybe even eight, he defines each groove of his core. I lose any self-control and pet him like a famished creature. I take my time, savoring every touch, memorizing every detail so I can dream of this in the future. He throws his sweatpants, bringing them back together with his shirt, and my wet pussy is pulsating.

"You're so large," I say to him, and he smirks, aware that I've just fueled his already substantial ego. “It's understandable why women want to be with you.” I accidentally said that out loud.

The existing regret softens his eyes. “Maybe we should stop.”

Perhaps we should, but my heart is telling me to be silent and let this man consume me in every conceivable manner.

---