Page 12 of Chips & Checks
I try. I try. But the moment I drop my hips again, taking him deeper—deeper than I thought possible—I feel it.
Him. All of him.
That piercing hits my inner wall like a live wire. He’s not even fully seated yet, and I’m already seeing stars. It’s too much. It’s not enough. I want him so deep that I forget my own name.
“Holy shit,” I breathe.
He moans, hands clenching at my hips. “You feel unreal. Like… fuck. Like you were m-made for me.”
The stutter punches a hole in my chest. Just a second. Just a breath. But it’s enough. Enough to know I’m not the only one spiraling. And that’s when it hits me in a tornado ofOh, fuck,andPlease, more. This isn’t just the best sex of my life, but more like our bodies fit perfectly together even though it would seem impossible.
I don’t believe in fate, but I believe in this. In whatever’s happening between my thighs and in my chest and in the way my soul is howling like it just found home.
I lift my hips and slam back down, harder now, chasing that electric drag of his piercing against my walls. He meets me thrust for thrust, mouth parted, eyes dark and blown.
This man doesn’t just fill me, he wrecks me.
Every. Single. Stroke.
And I don’t want it to stop. Like ever.
I brace my palms on his chest, breath coming in short, desperate gasps as I ride him harder—faster—chasing that final high. Then his hand slides between us. His thumb circles my clit with devastating precision.
“That’s it,” he rasps. “Fuck, Vi. You’re so perfect. So goddamn tight. You were meant to come on my cock.”
I whimper. My head falls back. I’m gone.
“I want to feel you,” he growls. “Come for me again, baby. One more time. Let me feel you lose it.”
The orgasm crashes into me like a tidal wave—deep, shuddering, explosive. I cry out his name as I clench around him, and that’s what does it.
Murph lets out a ragged, broken sound. Half moan, half growl, all surrender.
“Babe—fuck—Vi, I—”
He thrusts once, twice, then stills, buried to the hilt as he comes hard inside me, twitching with every pulsing wave. He holds me tight to his chest like he can’t bear to let me go.
And then, the slip.
A whisper. So soft, I almost miss it.
“Mine.”
I freeze just for a second, but he doesn’t repeat it. Doesn’t explain. Doesn’t even realize he said it.
I don’t call it out. I don’t say anything.
Instead, I press a kiss to his jaw and slowly lift off him with a whimper. My whole body feels used—in the best, mostworshipped way possible. Collapsing beside him, I’m boneless, ruined, grinning like a fool.
And already wondering how the hell I’m going to walk tomorrow at work without Viktor Abbott making some ridiculous comment about my inability to walk and my internal glow.
“Goddamn.” Murph lies with his hands resting on his belly. His still-condomed cock softens against his thigh as his deep, steady breaths lull me toward sleep.
No.
I force myself to sit up before I can get too comfortable. My limbs feel like overcooked noodles, and my heart is still doing backflips, but I can’t stay here. If I do, I might say something reckless.
“Wow,” I say, clearing my throat. “That was… great. Five out of five stars. You can quote me on that.”
