Page 93 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

Like a starving man, he dives right back in, eating me like I’m his last meal as I get lost in the sensation of his fingers digging into my thighs. His scruff scratching against my sensitive skin. His mouth licking, lapping, sucking, bringing me closer and closer to the edge until––

“Shiiiit,” I seethe, biting my knuckle to keep from screaming as wave after wave of euphoria crashes over me. From the center of my sex to the tips of my toes and fingers. It spreads through me, refusing to leave an inch of me unchanged. Unaffected. By the man on top of me.

As I slowly come back down to Earth, he unbuttons his dress shirt, yanks on his belt buckle, and tosses both to the ground, quickly pushing his pants and boxers to his ankles. I blink away the delicious haze from my orgasm and take in the gorgeous male specimen in front of me. All tan, tatted skin and rippling muscles.

“You’ve been hitting the gym more than normal,” I note.

“Had to stay distracted.”

“From what?”

“From hunting you down and locking you in my bedroom.”

“I wouldn’t have complained,” I admit, pressing my thighs together as the familiar pressure of lust starts to build all over again from simply looking at the guy. The fact he’s mine? Even if it’s only for a little while? Biggest turn-on a girl could ask for.

“You might’ve,” he mutters, his hands clenching at his sides as he takes me in from head to toe.

The heat from his gaze brands me, making me his all over again.

I bite my lip and ask, “Oh, really? Why?”

“‘Cause I planned on spanking the shit out of you.”

My heart picks up its pace as I cover my mouth and laugh. “And you think I would’ve minded a solid spanking from the guy I was pining after? Silly, naive, Milo. It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

His chuckle is low and throaty as he crawls closer. Naked. Hot. And a little sweaty, which only turns me on more as he towers over me, caging me in on both sides.

He’s delicious. And hard. For me. Settling between my thighs.

My mouth waters with how close he is as I scratch my trimmed fingernails against the dragon tattoo drawn onto the right side of his chest.

“Did you ever touch yourself and think of me?” I ask.

“Every day, Mads.” His mouth connects with mine in a sweet, toe-curling kiss. “Every day.”

“Was it always angry sex that got you off?”

He shakes his head and leans in for another soft kiss. “Not always.”

“And the times when it was soft and sweet?” I run my fingertips along his smooth back. “Was it like this?”

His mouth stretches into a warm smile. “Sometimes.”

“Show me.”

Stealing another kiss, his hand snakes between our bodies, and he lines himself up with me but hesitates at the last second.

“You on birth control?” he rasps, his face red with restraint.

“Yes.”

“You still want me to get a condom?”

“Are you clean?”

“You know you’re the only one I’d do this bare with.”

“I trust you,” I whisper.

---