Page 63 of Under Pressure

“Then you wouldn’t care if we stopped all this—”

“Get over here,” he growls, picking me up and tossing me flat on the bed, his big frame coming up to cover me. He kisses me ravenously, his hands roaming each inch of my body, staking their claim.

I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him closer until he surrounds me, every one of my senses consumed by this man. The weight of him on top of me, his warm skin underneath my fingertips as I interlace my fingers behind his neck, a smell of musk in the air from how turned on we both are.

I’m aware he doesn’t want anything more than the physical and I’m… okay with that. What other option do I have? I don’t want to miss out on the way he kisses me like he can’t get enough, the way his hands press insistently into my skin, the detail and dedication he puts into making sure I feel good.

If only his words matched the way his body reacts to me.

His hips rock against mine until the tip of his dick slides into me, my pussy already wet from his attention on it earlier.

“Do you want this?” he asks, pausing. His face is set in a serious expression as he looks down at me. He carefully tucks a curl behind my ear, deliberate in his actions, then lets his hand trail down my body. Over my breasts, skimming my navel, until it reaches where I want it most, dipping inside to find my clit. “Tell me you want this,” he says, his eyes fierce on me.

I buck against the pressure, his cock slipping in even more with my movement. “I want this,” I breathe, angling my hips up to give him better access.

He slowly feeds himself in until he’s settled all the way, giving me time to adjust to his size, and bends his head down until his face is in my hair. He takes a long inhale and exhale, his breath warm against my skin. “Fuck, you feel good.”

He begins to move within me, shallow strokes that complement his still slow movements on my clit. “You feel good too.” Under other circumstances, I could come up with something a whole lot more descriptive, but most of my brain cells are occupied at the moment.

I close my eyes, trying to concentrate on conveying how much I love this, even as he increases his pace. “The way you fill me up, the way you rub me. I’ve never been with someone so attuned to making sure it’s good for me too. You’re so generous.”

His rhythm falters and I open my eyes to find him staring at me. “I’m not generous.” He looks at me like I said something nasty.

I run my hands over his pecs, soothing him. “It’s a compliment.”

He shakes his head. “I-I’m selfish. I take what I want.” He settles a hand on my hip, using it as leverage to pump harder, but his grip is never bruising, never painful.

I reach my arms above me to brace myself against the headboard, eyes nearly rolling in the back of my head with how deep he is, hitting some spot within me I wasn’t aware existed.

I collect enough of my wits to ask him, “Then why’d you go down on me? There’s nothing in it for you.”

“Sure there is,” he pants, face set in concentration, those blue eyes burning with heat. “It gets you revved up for the main event.” He bends down, whispering in my ear, “And you taste fucking delicious.”

Oh God, I think my ovaries just burst.

He pulls out of me and I’m about to protest until he flips me over on my hands and knees, settling himself behind me, entering me slowly. “I decide what we do. How fast or slow you’re fucked.” I glance over my shoulder at him. His actions belie his crude words as he gently caresses my hips, moving in and out of me with care. Is he trying to convince me or himself?

“Whatever we do is because I want it.” He punctuates this with a strong thrust of his hips that has me moaning.“Because I’m greedy.” Another thrust, and this time I brace myself, taking all of him.

He settles into a steady rhythm, positioning himself so he’s leaning over me, his left hand braced beside my own on the bed, his torso covering my back so I’m surrounded by him. My body moves in unison with his, completely at his mercy, loving everything he’s giving me. I can’t suppress my whimpers any longer, my limbs trembling with the effort it takes to stay upright.

“I want you to come, Mia,” he whispers in my ear, his voice like a narcotic, lulling me into a state of bliss I gladly sink into. “I’m going to bring my hand around and stroke your clit. Then you’re going to come for me. Understand?”

I nod frantically, unable to speak.

He slides his right hand slowly down my body, snaking it around my belly until it reaches that crucial area. I strain toward it, tilting my hips so he’ll reach it faster, but he denies me, returning his hand to my waist, putting me back in place.

“I decide when,” he murmurs silkily, his warm breath on my neck sending shivers down my spine.

I nod in compliance, closing my eyes, waiting for his hand to descend again, and when it does, I almost cry out in relief as he finally makes contact, rubbing me softly right where I need him.

I let out a choked sob as the orgasm overtakes me, his movements still steady, and when I’m finished, he lets loose, widening his knees and grasping my hips as he pours himself into me.

I drop to my elbows, tilting my ass up to take him, my body overheated, overworked, but I’d gladly do it all again to feel this buoyant, this light, my heart singing. The sound of his satisfaction, harsh grunts interspersed with my name, is like music to my ears, but I don’t dare mention it to him later for fear he’ll deny it. But we’ll both know I made him call out my name. That as much as he wants this to just be sex, there’s more to it than that.

Don’t go down that road. That way lies pain.

Let me have this while I can, imagine something more between us while we’re still connected, his hands on me, restlessly roaming my body.

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