Page 47 of Hold You Close
I pull out. “You have to say it.”
She glares at me, then growls the words I want to hear through clenched teeth. “I want your cock.”
I slide inside her again, giving her a few solid inches past the crown, but not everything. “How much?”
“All of it. I want all of your cock.” She doesn’t even hesitate.
I like that.
Easing in all the way, slowly, because I’m not a complete jerkoff, I don’t stop until I’m buried balls deep and she’s dropped her head back on the pillow, breathing hard. I’m dying to move, and holding back is difficult, but I can’t let her off the hook until I win this round. I know I said this wasn’t a game, but she made it into one.
Victory is in sight as she wraps her arms and legs around me. “Now what do you want?” I whisper in her ear.
She digs her fingernails into my back, and the tension pulls tighter in me.
“Tell me, London.”
She rakes them down either side of my spine and down over my ass.
“Tell me.” Already my body is beginning to move of its own accord.
She tilts her hips and pulls me in deeper. “I want you to fuck me, you son of a bitch.”
I would have laughed at the name-calling if I wasn’t so out of my mind with need. It was just like her to try for the last word, even as she was doing exactly what I said she would.
The thought makes me almost delirious as I move inside her—I brought the high and mighty London Parish to her knees. I made her want me. I made her beg. She hates me, and here she is in my bed, naked and sweaty and panting my name, whispering the sweetest words I’ve ever heard out of her mouth.
“Oh, God, Ian, what are you doing to me?”
“Making you come again.” I’ve changed the angle slightly so I can give her more of what she needs. Listening to her body is easy. She moves freely and unabashedly, taking what she wants and unafraid to show how much she’s enjoying it. It’s such a contrast from the way she is in everyday life—and so fucking hot to me.
I don’t want a lifeless blow-up doll in my bed, no matter how gorgeous she is. Give me London every time—feisty, greedy, passionate, playful. I remember that even as a shy seventeen-year-old girl, she’d been surprisingly fearless in bed, so much so that I told her I didn’t believe she was a virgin. She swore she was, but said I made it easy for her to get carried away. The memory nearly makes me lose control.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she breathes, her heels digging into the backs of my thighs as I fuck her harder and faster. “Right there, just like that.”
Good thing, because the next few seconds has me going stiff as a board over her, groaning way too loudly as my cock throbs again and again. Thank fuck she comes right then too, her hands tight on my ass as her body spasms around me.
We probably woke up the kids.
Possibly even the neighbors’ kids.
Possibly even the kids two time zones and seven states across the country.
I don’t care. Worth it.
Eleven
London
Oh, dear.
Oh, calamity.
Oh, my God.
I’m lying beneath Ian, crushed by his warm bare chest, his skin covered with a light sheen of sweat, just like mine is.
I want to tell him to get off me. I want to tell him I can’t breathe. I want to tell him what we just did is a mistake and can’t ever happen again—and I need to say it before he does.
