Page 61 of Tattered Edges

He didn’t let me finish. Again.

Letting go of my hair, he placed a finger over my lips and insisted, “There’s a time and place for that, but tonight’s not it. Tonight, we’ll chase the high together.”

I didn’t argue after that.

How could I?

He reached for the condom, and I reclined across the blanket as he sheathed himself. Then he was lowering himself on top of me. The heat and weight of his body was comforting in a way I couldn’t remember experiencing before with anyone. I hitched my knees on either side of his hips, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as he kissed me tenderly.

His patience really was astounding.

Then he moved his hips, dragging his length across my entrance, teasing me in the most titillating way. When he did it again, and again, stealing my breath each time, it occurred to me that it wasn’t merelypatiencehe was exuding.

He was taking his time.

He was savoring me—the way he thought aboutmore times than he’d ever admit.

When he finally sank himself inside of me, I melted beneath him.

He stilled when he was fully seated, his eyes staring directly into mine.

I didn’t understand it, but for a second, I thought I might cry.

It wasthatperfect.

“Fuck,” he swore on a breath. “I can’t believe I ever told youno.”

Before I could respond, he eased out of me then rolled his hips with notable precision, robbing me of my words. He did this exactly twice, and then we were insatiable. Even with him inside of me, I couldn’t get enough of him.

If his greedy hands were anything to go by, he felt the same.

Soon, the heat of the fire still burning beside us was nothing compared to the fire we stoked every time we came together. Our skin grew slick with sweat as wechased the high together.

“Rory,” I gasped, my hand clasped around the back of his neck.

I was going to come, and it was going to be explosive.

“Are you there?” he asked, touching his forehead to mine.

All I could manage was a nod.

“Good girl. Come for me, Sawyer,” he panted.

As if my body was completely under his command, no sooner had he said the words than I was drowning in my own pleasure.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he grunted, pounding into me harder as I freed an unadulterated cry.

I was clinging to him desperately, which was why when he came, I felt it not just inside of me, but all over. His muscles tensed as he lost control, and he jerked his hips erratically once, twice, three times before he began to relax.

His forehead still pressed against mine, neither of us moved as we tried to catch our breath. I felt wrung out but deliriously satisfied.

In classic Rory fashion, he had gone above and beyond.

“That was—wow,” I murmured.

It had been the right thing to say.

I was sure of this, because as soon as I said it, he chuckled softly. Then he lifted his head, and my whole world stopped.

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