Page 156 of Surfer's Paradise

“You’re killing me,” he said, dragging his mouth again up the line of her throat. “I think I’ve been dreaming about this since I was sixteen.”

His cock, heavy and hard, pulsed at the entrance to her pussy. Her legs trembled. She didn’t want to hear that. Didn’t want to need to hear that. And yet her body arched for him, pressed into his cock, desperate and unashamed.

“I need you inside me.” Rosie said. Her breath caught as he looked up at her again, eyes full of hunger and something else—something dangerous.

“What do you need?”

“Your cock,” she moaned, trying to catch him with her thighs.

“Good girl,” he said. But he still held himself over her, teasing the entrance to her pussy with his throbbing cock head. “Tell me what I did to you.”

Rosie buried her face in his shoulder, half-mortified, half burning as he tested her soaked pussy. Inch by inch, he slowly thrusted in. Teasing. Edging.

“What got you off?” he asked, dark and low, pulling his cock back and rubbing it in slow circles over her clit with maddeningprecision. “Me on top of you? Beneath you? Fucking you until you couldn’t speak?”

Her fingers gripped his back. “You’d be rough,” she whispered. “I’d imagine you taking control. Pinning me. Making me beg.”

“And?”

“Your hands around my neck. Hard.”

Isaac’s breath hitched. He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “That what you want now?” he asked, voice dangerous. “You want me to make you beg, baby?”

She couldn’t find words. But she didn’t have to. Because the next second, Isaac was shifting, pulling her hands above her head, caging her in with his body, his mouth crashing onto hers—hungry, claiming, endless.

Her fingers clutched at the sharp muscles of his back, dragging down the lines of his ribs, careful where he was still tender but unable to stop herself. He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against her collarbone as he kissed her there, open-mouthed, wet and hungry.

He thrusted his cock up her pussy, hitting the spot just right. “How many times did you come with my name in your mouth?”

“I can’t—” she managed, flushed, breathless.

“No,” he said, harsher now, voice like gravel. “You’ve had me in your head for years, haven’t you? You’ve wanted this. This—” He thrust into her with his cock again, harder this time.

“Isaac,” she whispered, aching.

He stilled.

Then pulled out his cock—slowly, making her whimper—and Rosie stared at him.

His body was tense, sculpted and straining with restraint. His cock was thick and hard, curved inside her, throbbing. Every inch of him looked carved for sin, and he was looking at her like she was the only thing he’d ever wanted.

His mouth was on her again before she could catch her breath—hungry, demanding, like he couldn’t get enough. His hands roamed her bare skin, every brush of his fingers a brand, every touch deliberate. She arched beneath him, his weight pressing her into the mattress, grounding her, surrounding her.

“You like this?” he said, voice low, rough with heat as his hands moved to her neck, holding her in place. “You want me to hurt you.”

She bit her lip, trying to hold on to some semblance of control, but he kissed her inner thigh, and it shattered her all over again.

“I thought about you every night,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Every time I closed my eyes. Every time I touched myself.”

Isaac groaned low in his throat, the sound scraping up from somewhere deep, primal. His hand tightened around her throat—not choking, but holding. Claiming. The pressure was just enough to make her pulse stutter.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” he rasped, voice hot against her skin.

He loomed over her, forearms braced on either side of her head, his eyes dark and blown out with hunger. He didn’t kiss her. He devoured her. Mouth crashing into hers like a storm. His tongue was deep, filthy, relentless.

Rosie moaned into him, arching into his weight, clawing at his back. His cock slammed into her again, hard enough to make the headboard rattle. The pace was brutal now. Unforgiving. Exactly what she wanted. Needed.

“You’re mine,” he growled against her lips, voice low and sharp. A claim. A challenge.

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