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He’s like a force of nature, all raw power and unrestrained passion.
My breath catches as he tears the lace panties from my hips, the delicate fabric no match for his urgency.
“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he says, his eyes burning into mine.
He palms my breasts, thumb rolling over my nipples until I’m dizzy with desire.
My nails dig into his back, urging him on.
“Now, Bama,” I demand, voice husky with want. “Please. I can’t wait any longer. I need you.”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” He thrusts into me hard and deep, and I cry out at the sensation.
It’s brutal and beautiful, each movement sending shockwaves through my body.
We move together, a wild rhythm that builds and builds until it feels like we’re going to shatter.
His grip tightens on my hips, bruising but grounding me in the chaos.
His name is a mantra on my lips, a desperate prayer as everything else falls away.
“Goddamn, Jordyn,” he groans, driving into me with an intensity that leaves me breathless.
Sweat beads on his forehead, mixing with the glistening sheen on his chest.
Every muscle in his body strains with effort, and I can’t look away.
“Don’t stop,” I plead, wrapping my legs around him to pull him deeper.
The world tilts as we lose ourselves in each other, nothing else existing but the burning heat and the heady rush of our connection.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head. I don’t plan on stopping,” he promises, his voice a gravelly whisper against my ear.
And then he’s kissing me again, tongue tangling with mine as we spiral toward the edge.
“Fuck, Jordyn!” he gasps, breaking the kiss to bury his face in my neck.
The sound of my name on his lips sends me over, and I fall apart beneath him, clutching at his shoulders as wave after wave crashes through me.
“God, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he groans, following me into the abyss.
His body shudders against mine, holding me tight as we ride out the storm together.
For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of our ragged breathing, the faint hum of the air conditioner, and the pounding of my heart.
Then, slowly, reality begins to seep back in.
Bama rolls to the side, pulling me into his arms.
I nestle against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my cheek.
“That was . . .” Words fail me, but he seems to understand.
“Yeah,” he agrees, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. “It was.”
CHAPTER TWO
Bama
