Page 91 of The Underboss's Secret Twins
"Please, Marco," she gasps, her legs trembling around my shoulders. "Please, I need you—I need your mouth, your fingers, I need you to make me come?—"
That’s what I wanted.
That’s what I was waiting for.
I groan, deep in my chest, and then I give her everything.
I press my tongue flat against her clit, sucking her deep into my mouth, my fingers thrusting inside her, curling to find that spot that makes her cry out, makes her body arch clean off the bed.
She screams my name.
She fucking writhes for me, shakes for me.
I don’t let up.
I don’t stop.
I hold her down, pinning her hips as I devour her, dragging her higher, higher?—
And then she breaks.
Her body locks up, her thighs squeezing around my head, her breath catching on a silent, wrecked sob as the orgasm slams into her, tearing through her, leaving her trembling, ruined, shattered beneath me.
I lick her through it, lap up every last drop of her, my hands soothing down her legs, grounding her even as she shakes in the aftermath.
She’s gasping, undone.
And I’m still not finished.
I untie her wrists, rubbing the marks left behind, pressing soft kisses to them, then to her collarbones, her throat, her jaw.
And as soon as I do, as soon as she’s free?—
She shoves me onto my back and climbs onto my lap, straddling me, her hands shoving my chest down.
Her eyes burn into mine, wild and dark and filled with hunger.
She leans down, her lips grazing my ear.
"Now," she whispers, her breath hot. "I’m going to ride you until you can’t fucking breathe."
And then she takes me inside her in one perfect, slow, unbearable stroke.
The second I’m inside her, buried to the hilt, my vision blurs, my breath falters, and for the first time tonight—she’s the one in control.
She lets out a low, sinful moan, rolling her hips slowly, taunting, watching me with dark, wicked satisfaction as she grinds down, dragging her nails across my chest.
"You like that?" she murmurs, voice syrupy-sweet, dangerous. "Like me using you?"
I growl, my fingers digging into her hips, ready to flip us, ready to take back control?—
But she slaps my hands away.
Fucking slaps them away.
"You don’t touch unless I say so," she purrs, dragging her tongue over her lower lip, taunting me. "You told me I was in no position to make demands."
She leans down, sucking at my neck, biting, teasing, and I feel her clench around me, tight and hot, soaking me, milking me.
