Page 61 of California Wild

Jesse pressed his cock against her wet, stated pussy. His thick, hard length slowly pushed up inside her—met by the sound of her whimpering. Fuck, it had been too long.

He thrusted into her pussy, moving in slow, deliberate strokes. He tightened his grip on her wrists, holding them above her head, pinning her down like he knew exactly what it did to her. Like he could feel the way her body reacted to him, the way she melted, the way her breath hitched in anticipation.

She had always loved this—his strength, his control, the way he handled her like he had every right to. Like she was his.

And Jesse? He knew.

“You still like this, don’t you?” His voice was rough, wrecked, hovering just above her mouth. “Still like getting ridden hard?”

She nodded, panting beneath him, her pulse hammering in her ears.

His lips brushed hers—just enough to tease, just enough to drive her crazy.

“Say it.”

A shudder rolled through her.

He still needed to hear it. Still needed to know she was right there with him, that they were perfectly in sync, just like they had always been.

“Yeah,” she whispered, voice breaking. “I like it.”

Jesse made a sound in the back of his throat—something dark, satisfied.

“Yeah, you do.”

Then he was gone—pulling away, flipping her effortlessly onto her stomach.

A gasp left her lips, her cheek pressing into the sheets. She felt the bed dip behind her, felt the warmth of his body behind her.

His cock found her pussy again—thrusting up to the hilt in one motion.

Then—his hands. Rough. Strong. Exploring her like she was something to be worshipped. Pushing the small of her back down, arching her pussy to his cock. Fucking her hard but slow, he dragged his hands down her sides, across her stomach, over her thighs.

Teasing.

Drawing it out. Driving her wild.

Every pass of his hands down her body, every shift of his weight above her, was designed to unravel her—slowly, ruthlessly.

She bit her lip, fists clenching in the sheets, breath hitching. “Jesse…”

Her voice cracked—needy, raw, ruined.

That was all it took.

He surged into her, hard and deep, and she cried out, her back arching, her body folding around the force of him.

God.

Every inch of him slammed into her like a promise, like a claim, like he’d waited three years to remind her who she belonged to. And he didn’t hold back. Not anymore. Jesse moved with a rhythm that was rough and relentless, his grip bruising her hips, his mouth dragging fire down her spine.

She met every thrust, desperate for more, for everything, and still—still—it wasn’t enough.

Because she wanted all of him.

Wanted to be split wide open by the only man who had ever truly known her—her body, her needs, her soul.

And Jesse knew.

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