Page 78 of Butterfly Effect

A satisfied sound follows, his eyes rolling back with pleasure as he tongues one nipple. The light graze of his teeth makes me shudder and arch from the mattress. “They’re so fucking sensitive.” He suckles the other side, caressing the exposed skin on my hips. “God, I wanna be inside you.”

I moan at how his hard length brushes against my thigh and seethe at how good his hands feel.

The need to punish him returns with a vengeance.

“Do you think you deserve that?”

He answers with a whine. “Please, Gabe? Need to feel you.”

Need? Heneedsme?

“Yes,” I rasp.

I’m a weak woman with an even weaker resolve.

He mutters afuckbefore pulling a condom from his back pocket and tearing it open, then undoes his pants entirely to sheath himself with a sigh.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” I remind him, propping up on my elbows.

He freezes. “What?”

“It changes nothing,” I add. “I still hate you.”

Wade chuckles. “You know, I didn’t believe you before, but from the way you’re fucking teasing me, I’m starting to.”

“Good. Now you know where we stand.” My foot docks at the hard plane of his torso, maintaining distance and dominance.

He submits, gently holding it, kissing the inner ankle, and toys with the heel strap. Something softens in my chest, and I hate that, too.

I push myself away. “Shirt. Off.”

His compliance is eager and swift, and we keep our eyes locked.

“On your back.”

“Oh, fuckyes—” He practically dives onto the top of the bed, pants catching at his knees as he gets in position. Large, grabby hands summon me.

I smirk. “Nope.”

His excitement wanes, and those warm brown eyes round out like a sad puppy. “No?”

The bowtie on my laced-up bodice unravels with a deft tug, naked breasts and stomach on display, leaving the dress pooling around my hips.

“Hands on the headboard.”

“Shit,” Wade laments, baring his frustration by pulling on his hair but ultimately lifts his arms.

It’s a necessary distancing. Because if Wade touches me, I’ll feel…everything. And I’d rather be numb.

My knees climb over to straddle him, the toes of my shoes catching against the sheets. As I roll the dress fabric over itself, the heavy head of his cock sweeps through the seam of my pussy, and a hum escapes me.

Wade intakes a sharp breath when I reach between my thighs to fist his length. Veins in his neck bulge as I spread my legs further to line him up at my entrance.

He makes a tortured noise when my body resists his size, fingertips paling in the grip on the headboard. “Please, Gabe,” he repeats. “Please.”

I relax my walls with a sigh and push him through the wet flesh in a shallow thrust. We both gasp at the delicious stretch.

My hips find a slow rhythm, taking more and more of him with each stroke, hands seeking contact with my hardened nipples, switching between palming them in a rough squeeze and light pinches to their small peaks.

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