Page 29 of Kiss Me, Mr. Bridge

His cock thickens inside me, taking up the room that wasn’t there to take. And when it strokes over the spot inside me, I close my eyes and gasp.

“You feel amazing. My cock loves your pussy.”

I am so close.

My pussy convulses.

“Fuck! Yes!” His balls slap against my pussy as he thrusts harder. But then every sound we make is obscene.

His grip tightens on my throat as his teeth dig into the bottom of my neck.

“Oh my God!” I cry out. “I’m—”

“Luce—” Ronan makes a deep, guttural groan as his cock pulses, and his hot cum fills me as my pussy convulses around him.

His forehead rests against my upper spine, his breathing ragged behind me.

“Are you okay?” he asks after a few minutes…perhaps only seconds of us getting our thoughts together.

We’re still standing at the window, naked.

I glance over my shoulder and smile. “Better than ever. Are you?”

He sighs. “I don’t know.”

What the hell does that mean?

“Do you want me to go home now?”

He smiles against the bite mark that suddenly stings. “I’m taking you to bed.”

My legs wobble as Ronan slides out of me, his cum trickling down my inner thighs. Before I can move, he scoops me up in his arms, nestling me against his chest. And I’m inhaling his masculine scent–now mixed with sweat and sex–like it’s my lifeline.

My eyelids grow heavy as the steady thrum of his heartbeat lulls me.

His lips brush my cheek tenderly.

I lift my gaze to meet his, finding an intensity there that steals my breath.

Right now, he is so different from the commanding man who just fucked me against his window.

He strides up the sweeping staircase, down a long hallway to the double doors at the end.

The bedroom beyond is a massive but stark space.

Chrome. Charcoal. A touch of leather.Masculine.

“You need some artwork in here.”

He grins. “I’ll commission you to paint me some.”

My heart flips at the intensity in his gaze. “And thank you for the supplies.”

The mattress dips as he lays me on his bed.

He pulls the cool silk sheets over my heated skin before he disappears for a moment, returning with a warm, damp cloth.

My breath catches as he gently cleans my legs, his touch so reverent that tears sting my eyes. His eyes lock onto mine, dark and hungry, and his movements slow as he cleans between my thighs. It’s so slow it feels like time stands still until the washcloth drops to the floor.

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