Page 107 of Cruel Elite (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 3)

But I want him even more than I did.

I want to make Noah shake and quiver.

I want him to beg me to stop and to keep going and for more and for none of it to ever be enough.

When I grab his collar next, there isn’t an option. He moves over my body, and I pull his shirt over his head, surprised it doesn’t rip from the force.

I drag my fingers down his trim, muscled chest. I can feel his heart hammering in his chest.

Before I even get to his pants, Noah undoes them for me and kicks them off.

And before I can slide my hand in his boxers, he grabs my hand and wraps it around his length, hissing like I’ve burnt him.

“You make me so hard,” he whispers against my ear, thrusting gently into my hand. “All the time. Even when you aren’t trying.”

It’s not an admission of love or even like, but it is attraction.

That’s something, right?

For me, for now… it’s enough.

“I want you inside of me,” I say in response.

Noah groans and kisses my neck before he spins around and grabs his jeans, pulling the condom from his wallet.

I push Noah to the grass, straddle his hips, and slide onto him with one thrust. Our bodies connect, him buried to the hilt, me as full as I can imagine.

It feels right.

My hands are flat on his chest. Noah reaches up and palms my breasts, his fingers stroking my nipples and sliding down my body to grip my waist.

He alternates rocking me against him with lifting me up so I slide to the very edge of him before pulling me back down.

Neither of us close our eyes.

I admire him, the way his abs tense with each thrust and the way he bites his lip when I roll my hips over him.

I notice the way the moonlight turns our skin blue and silvery, and the way he keeps glancing up at my face, making eye contact with me to be sure I’m enjoying myself.

As if there was any doubt.

Noah is ruining me, just like he promised.

Truth is, he ruined me a long time ago.

The first time we ever did this.

I’ve been chasing that high ever since.

I arch my back and rest my hands on his thighs. Noah sits up, wrapping his arm around my lower back, and we find a new toe-curling rhythm.

“Fuck, Penn,” he grits out, pumping into me harder. “I’m close.”

It’s a warning, but I don’t take it.

I’ve already had my turn.

Now it’s his.

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