Page 59 of Tangled Desires

“God, you taste so fucking good,” I mutter, not even waiting for a response before diving back in. The wet sounds of me working her over fill the room, my tongue flicking and circling her clit until her cries come loud and broken. Her hips grind against my face, desperate and demanding, and I chuckle against her, muttering, “Take what you need, baby,” before pulling her even closer.

Her thighs quake against my shoulders, her cries breaking into sharp, breathless whimpers as her body convulses under me, shaking hard. When she finally slumps, I don’t give her a chance to catch her breath. I push her backward onto the bed, crawling over her. She’s still flushed, legs limp, when I flip her onto all fours. My hand fists her hair roughly, tilting her head back just enough for my lips to brush her ear.

“My turn, baby. Grab the headboard and hold on tight, sugar.”

She doesn’t hesitate, her hands flying forward, gripping the wooden slats like her life depends on it. My palm smooths down the curve of her spine, stopping at that perfect ass. I slap it hard, and the sharp crack echoes in the room. Her cry comes out half-surprised, half-wicked, and when I do it again, she moans, louder this time.

“Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” My voice is rough, as I press a hand to her hip and line myself up.

Her answer is a throaty, “Yes, don’t fucking stop—” but it cuts off in a gasp as I thrust forward, burying myself deep.

“Fuccck,” I growl, the sound turning into a harsh groan as I move. Her tight pussy wraps around me, and I don’t hold back. My hips snap forward, the sound of skin slapping against skin drowning out her broken cries. Her hands grip the headboard so tight her knuckles pale. My hand yanks her hair, keeping herarched just enough to meet every thrust, and the other digs into her hip, holding her steady as I drive her into the mattress.

“My girl likes it rough, don’t you, sugar?” I growl, snapping my hips hard against her.

“I’m not your fucking girl,” she spits. I laugh, rolling my hips deeper, just to hear her gasp.

“I beg to differ.” Her moan is all the answer I need. I thrust harder, deeper, and a sharp pang of worry cuts through me. Shit—what if I’m too rough? What if I hurt the baby? My thrusts falter, and she notices instantly.

“Don’t you fucking stop, Harrison,” she growls, glancing over her shoulder. “Don’t you dare, or I’ll strangle your balls.”

Her threat—and the way she pushes back—makes me grin. “Yes, ma’am.” I drive into her, harder, faster, her body trembling and tightening as she nears the edge. My release barrels in, unstoppable, and I grip her hips, slamming into her one last time as we both break. Her scream tangles with my shout, her walls pulsing, milking every last drop as I empty myself deep inside her. She collapses forward, panting, and I sink back on my knees, smirking as I watch her chest rise and fall.

“So, how’s little Harrison doing in there? Probably wondering what the fuck just happened.”

Her scoff is immediate. “Little Harrison? Dream on.”

I shrug. “You don’t know, either. Bet it’s a boy.”

“Girl. Wanna make a bet?”

“Oh, I’m in. What’s the deal if I win?”

Her finger taps her lip. “If you’re right, I’ll admit you’re not as dumb as you look. Publicly.”

“Rude. But fine. I win, you admit you actually like me.”

“Like you?” Her narrow-eyed glare turns playful. “Bold assumption, Price.”

“C’mon, Immy-girl. You wouldn’t be fucking me if you didn’t.”

“Physical attraction and mental attraction aren’t the same,” she snarks, sliding off the bed.

“Keep lying to yourself, sugar,” I tease, watching her head toward the bathroom. Two steps in, I’m up and on her, delivering a sharp slap to her ass. Her squeal is music to my ears. “What was that? Round three? Absolutely.”

Her protests barely make it out before I’ve scooped her up, slamming the bathroom door shut behind us.

We’re sprawled on the couch watching some guy called Mr. Ballen. For once, she’s curled up against me, looking wrecked in the best way. I press a hand to her forehead.

Nope, no fever. Still, this is weird. She’s been different lately—softer, almost sweet—and it’s throwing me off. Maybe the answer’s simple. Just need to fuck her more. Fuck her until she’s satisfied and dazed because apparently, that’s the only time she’ll willingly snuggle up to me.

“What’s your favourite food?” she asks randomly.

“Pasta,” I shoot back without missing a beat. “Oh, peanut butter and honey sandwiches, too.”

Her head tilts. “That’s so random.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I say, scratching my head. “It’s what I had growing up. Mum wouldn’t cook half the time, so Michael and I made do. Peanut butter and honey sandwiches were kind of our thing. Now? A favourite.”

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