Page 27 of Riptide

I press my lips to his jaw first, then lower, my breath still uneven as I bite down on the edge of his throat, dragging my teeth over his skin, earning a moan from him.

He lets me have him for a second, then his hands are on my wrists, moving them above my head.

“Nice try,” he murmurs, smirking down at me.

The ache for him increases tenfold, even as my body screams that it’s recovering. I lift my chin, watching him, testing. “You still haven’t gotten off,” I point out, my voice hoarse. His grip on my wrists tightens as I shift beneath him, urging him to let me go so I can take care of him. “Bet you’d look really fucking pretty falling apart for me.”

His eyes roll back as he moans, moving against me. Then, so fucking fast I don’t have time to react, he flips me onto my stomach and knees, dragging me upright against his chest, one strong arm locking around my waist. A sharp gasp rips from my throat as my spine arches on instinct, my body pressing flush to his.

Foxx’s breath is hot against my ear, his lips brushing the shell of it as he speaks, his voice so deep, I swear I feel it in my fucking bones.

“You think you get to tease me?” He’s holding me right where he wants me again. Like I belong to him. Which is fucking ridiculous.

My cock’s stirring again, even though I should be wrung out and done. I swallow hard, still humming with aftershocks, butI’m not tired, not with him holding me like this, not with his voice in my ear, thick with sin.

His legs force mine apart, his hand flexing on my stomach, keeping me pressed against him. “You gonna do something about it?” I rasp.

Foxx exhales a chuckle, holding me still as his cock ruts against me, slipping between my ass cheeks, his pre-cum making things slick. I push back into it, gasping when I feel the full, hard, thick weight of him right where I need it. Foxx lets out a low, gritted sound, his fingers digging into my skin, but he doesn’t go further. “Of course you’d still want more,” he murmurs.

I groan because, fuck, maybe I’d let him keep me here all night, open and waiting, letting him take whatever he wants. But he’s the one who still hasn’t come. And that’s not fucking fair. I shift, moving before he can stop me, twisting in his grip, turning onto my back and dragging him down over me so our cocks align.

He lets me, but it’s not submission.

He’s letting me think I have a say in this, when we both know I don’t.

But he doesn’t stop me when I slide a hand down his stomach, doesn’t stop me when I wrap my fingers around his perfect thick cock already so hard and red, lined with veins that pulse on each upstroke.

His breath coats my lips on an exhale, his eyes dark, watching me, waiting.

I smirk, my palm gliding down, my grip tight but slow, teasing, making him feel it.

“You’re so fucking hard,” I murmur, dragging my thumb over the head, smearing the wetness there, feeling him throb against my palm.

Foxx grits his teeth, his jaw tight, hanging by a thread.

Lifting my hand, I position it below his mouth. “Spit.”

His eyes morph from dark to obsidian, his nostrils flaring as he spits into my palm.

With a victorious grin, I continue stroking him steadily, watching his breath go uneven, watching the way his fingers flex against the sheets by my head. He’s trying to hold off, but that orgasm is mine. And I really fucking want it.

I lift my head, my lips brushing against his ear as I whisper, “Let me make you feel good. Let go.”

His entire body tenses. I feel it the second he loses the battle with himself, the second he gives in to it, hips speeding up, pulsing into my grip, chasing the pleasure I’m giving him. His head tips back, his mouth parting, displaying his corded neck for me as he groans.

I stroke him faster, my wrist flicking in tight, definitive movements, my other hand sliding up his chest, feeling every muscle, every shudder that rolls through him as I pinch his tight nipple between my fingers.

Foxx curses, his breath coming out harsh, his body fired up. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

It’s barely a warning, more a tortured exhale, his control finally slipping through his fingers.

I lean in and press my lips to his throat, teeth grazing the pulse hammering there as I take him exactly where I know he needs to go.

His hips stall, his body stiffens, his breath chokes off into a deep, guttural moan as he comes hot and thick over my stomach and hand.

Fucking beautiful.

I milk him through it, slowing my movements, dragging out every last drop, until he’s sated and collapsing heavily beside me.

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