Page 67 of Salvatore

“No,” I gasp.

He holds his position, his warm breath teasing my shoulder. He doesn’t believe me, so I tilt my hips, encouraging him to move. I expect pain. My thighs quiver when it doesn’t come. The tightness and pressure remain, but the sensation stirs unexpected jolts to shoot into my center, causing us both to swear.

My chest rises and falls, making it hard to speak, each inkling of movement electrifying the nerves along my throbbing flesh. “What was that?” I stammer.

Salvatore pushes up on his elbows, fervor encompassing his strong features. “Me teasing your G spot.”

“Oh.” I bite my bottom lip and shift my weight, his thick head skimming the spot again and causing my eyelids to flutter.

“Fuck,” he groans, almost falling on top of me.

He shakes with desire. But when he speaks, I’m the one who can’t seem to move. “I’m going to go harder,” he says, swallowing with great difficulty. “If it’s too much, tell me to stop, and I will.”

I barely manage a nod as he withdraws. When he thrusts, I practically claw my way through the mattress.

“Too much?” he asks, stopping in place and balling the comforter in his fists.

“No,” I whimper.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” I say, slipping my tongue into his ear.

Salvatore abandons his restraint, proving how much he wants me, and maybe how much he’s longed for me, too . . .

---