Page 42 of Wrong Number. Right Don.
“Fuck yes,” I mutter, earning a soft laugh that vibrates through her whole body, and right through mine.
Then she starts to move. Slow at first, rocking her hips in a rhythm that makes my blood burn and my control unravel. I grip her waist, guiding her, watching the way her body rolls against mine. She’s mesmerizing. Every sound she makes, every flicker of expression on her face, etches itself into my brain.
I sit up suddenly, wrapping an arm around her waist and capturing her mouth with mine. Her moan is swallowed by the kiss as I shift us, turning her beneath me in one smooth motion.
She gasps as her back hits the mattress, but she doesn’t break the kiss. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper into her body, and I lose myself in her completely.
She has no idea what she’s doing to me.
My control slips, fraying at the edges with every breath she takes, every soft sound she makes beneath me. I brace one hand beside her head, the other trailing from her throat to her chest, palm splaying between her breasts as I bury myself in her again, harder this time. Her body arches, her mouth falling open on a gasp that cuts straight through me.
“Sergei,” she breathes, fingers clinging to my shoulders. Her nails dig in as I thrust again, again, building a rhythm that makes the bed creak beneath us.
“I’ve thought about this,” I growl against her neck, dragging my lips along the sensitive skin there. “Thought about you. Every goddamn night since we met.”
She shudders beneath me, her legs tightening around my waist.
“Me too.” Her voice is breathless.
I pull back just enough to look into her eyes. “Did you touch yourself thinking about me, Nicole?”
Her breath catches, her cheeks blooming with color. She nods.
The image makes my cock twitch inside her. My voice drops lower, rougher. “Tell me.”
She swallows hard. “You fucking ruined me,” she breathes. “I’d try to ride my hand like it was you, to make myself come as hard as you did, but it was never the same.”
I grip her hip tighter, dragging her down the bed slightly as I thrust deep and slow. She gasps, her head falling back against the pillow.
“Like this?” I ask.
“Yes,” she pants. “Exactly like this.”
There’s something primal about the way she moves against me, the way her body welcomes me like it’s been waiting for this. For me. I want to take my time, to draw this out, but every inch of me is begging for more, deeper, harder, closer.
So I give in.
I kiss her like I’m starving, like her mouth is the only thing that can feed me. Her hands tangle in my hair, her hips rising to meet every thrust. I lose myself in the sound of her voice, in the heat of her skin, in the way she cries out when I hit just the right spot.
She’s close. I can feel it in the way her pussy tightens around me, the way her breath stutters.
“Look at me,” I whisper, brushing her hair off her face.
Her eyes flutter open, glassy and wide.
“I want to see you when you come.”
She nearly screams with pleasure as she dreamily locks eyes with me, and then her body arches off the bed, trembling around me as she falls apart. I follow her over the edge a moment later, groaning her name against her skin like it’s a prayer as I spill deep inside her.
We collapse together in a tangle of limbs and sheets, our bodies slick with sweat and our chests heaving. For a long moment,neither of us speaks. We just lie there, tangled up, holding each other like the world doesn’t exist beyond these four walls.
When I finally lift my head, her eyes are still on me, soft and searching.
“You okay?” I ask, brushing her damp hair back from her forehead.
“Perfect,” she murmurs with a delicate smile
I press a kiss to her shoulder, then her cheek, then her lips.
