Page 52 of A Game of Ruck
“Fuck, Angel.You’re gonna kill me,” he murmurs, unbuttoning his pants and sliding his hands inside to cup the bulge I can already see.
My breath catches again because—holy hell.
Everythingabout this man is big.And mine.
At least tonight.
I want to memorize every second of it.
Want to obey every one of his naughty instructions.
“Slide your hand into your panties.Tell me, are you wet for me?”
I moan and follow his instructions.
Squeezing my tits one more time before I slide my hand down my body and into my black lace panties.
“I-I’m so wet, Luca.”
“Poor baby.Take those off too and spread your legs.Let me see you.Yeah, like that,” Luca growls.
My hands tremble as I hook my fingers in the waistband of my panties, sliding them down my legs and kicking them off the bed with a soft gasp.I’m panting now, my thighs falling open as I obey, heat pulsing between them, wild and insistent.
“Fuck, Angel.You are glistening,” he rasps, voice thick with hunger.“Now just keep on stroking those slippery folds while I get ready.”
His words set fire to every nerve ending.
My fingers slide over my swollen clit, and I moan at the slickness there.At how ready I am.How badly I want him.
Luca stands at the foot of the bed, pushing his pants and boxer briefs down in one swift move, his body golden and godlike in the dim light.
When his cock springs free, my breath catches.
“See something you like?”he asks, a wicked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
I nod.Silently.Reverently.
He’s thick and long and utterly perfect—so hard it looks like it must hurt.
I can’t stop staring, can’t stop aching.
“Keep touching that pretty pussy, Angel.Let me see how much you need me.”
I do.I keep going.Faster now.Circling my clit like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth.I moan again, hips lifting off the bed.
Luca tears open a foil packet with his teeth—his other hand slowly stroking that gorgeous cock—and the sound is obscene.
Rough.Raw.Real.
The low groan he lets out when he watches me rub myself pushes me closer to the edge.
“Fuck,” he grits out.“I wanna taste you.Spread you out on my tongue and make you scream.But I can’t wait.Need to fuck you first.”
The need in his voice—his desperation—makes my heart pound harder.
Because I feel it too.This isn’t slow-burning tension anymore.
This is a damn inferno.
