Page 104 of The Woman on the Jury

I started slow, wanting to savor this, but it wasn’t long before my body was screaming for release, making me ride him hard and fast as my body drove up toward that peak, then crashed down, leaving me falling into Cosimo’s chest, my face in his neck as I cried out my release.

He wasn’t done with me yet, though.

As I came back down, I found him still hard inside me.

His arm went around my lower back, holding me against him as he got to his feet, the location unknown until I felt the wall against my back.

Then he was fucking me, hard and fast and deep, driving me right back up again, leaving my breathless and needy as my eyes slid shut.

“No,” Cosimo growled. “Look at me. I need you to look at me when you come,” he demanded.

My heavy eyelids fluttered open, watching his stupidly gorgeous face as he pushed me off that edge, and sent me crashing again.

“Fuck,” Cosimo hissed, thrusting faster, then settling deep as he came, his gaze on mine the whole time.

I knew that maybe for some, it wasn’t a big deal.

But, it seemed, for Cosimo, orgasms with eye contact were a huge deal.

“Oh, God,” I groaned after the haze slipped away again, my gaze moving around the apartment behind Cosimo.

“What?” he asked, slowly lowering me down to my own feet.

“I hope she doesn’t have any cameras or anything in here,” I said, my cheeks feeling warm.

“We’ll have to tell her to erase the footage without watching it,” Cosimo said, smirk wicked.

“We are not telling her that. She can’t know we just did this in her apartment.”

“We can offer the penthouse to her and her boyfriend anytime they want it,” he offered as he walked toward the kitchen, finding the garbage, and getting rid of the condom.

He tucked himself away, then pulled out the bag, bringing it over to the door. Where I was still standing. Stark naked. Something he appreciated as his gaze moved lazily over me.

“She doesn’t have a boyfriend,” I said.

“A solo mission then,” he teased, in a better mood than I was used to seeing him in.

“We can’t invite my best friend to come to your penthouse and masturbate,” I said, loving the way his smile stretched wide enough to make his eyes crinkle. That was a first.

“Our,” he said.

“What?” I asked, starting to move back toward the couch to grab my clothes.

“Our penthouse,” he said.

“It’s definitely not mine,” I said, rolling my eyes at him over my shoulder.

“You’re going to be living there indefinitely, so I think you can start calling it that,” he said, landing a slap to my ass as I bent down to fetch my panties.

“About that,” I said, ignoring the way my insatiable body sizzled a little at that slap.

“About what?” he asked, tensing.

“I can’t be there indefinitely. As in all day and all night forever,” I told him. “I have a life. A family business. I can’t stay locked away in the penthouse.”

He looked irritated at that, but tamped it down.

“We’ll… figure that out,” he said. “Maybe not tomorrow or the next day, but I’ll get on it.”

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