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My hands can’t get enough of her skin and curves, her nipples between my fingers as she gives a soft sigh.
“You like that?”
“Yes,” she hisses.
I thrust in again, slowly, taking my time with it, but it’s too much and not enough. Starved for her, that’s how I’ve felt, and the feel of being with her like this is bordering on fucking mindblowing.
“Tell me what else you like.”
“You don’t have to go so slow,” she says, and it’s all I hear before I thrust in harder, and her answering moan is louder. “What do you like?”
“I like whatever you like.” I kiss her. “I like it when you’re loud. I like it when you pull my hair.” Every confession is another kiss, another thrust. “I like it when you’re enjoying yourself and coming on my table. I want to fuck you on it again and again.”
Her breaths are heavy as she whimpers underneath me, so damn sexy at my hands.
“I want to watch you ride me,” I keep going. “I want to watch you take everything.”
Her eyes zone in on mine, a heated gaze, and then she sets her palms on my chest, pushing me off her to roll over. She lowers herself onto me, warm skin and loose hair around her face, as she rocks back and forth slowly.
“I love this view,” I tell her, grinning.
She sighs, letting out a delicate laugh that sounds like it’s wrapped around pleasure. I thrust up, and she lets out another perfect moan.
“You can be louder for me, can’t you?” My hands move up to pinch her nipples between my fingers, and she groans again, goosebumps following all over her body.
“Are you desperate for me like I am for you?” she gasps, repeating my own words back to me.
“You have no idea.” Now I’m at her mercy. The confidence she walked in with is back, a hold on me like nothing else.
“Tell me.”
“I’m desperate for you all the time. I want you here, with me, all the time.”
“Oh yeah? Just like this?” she laughs.
“Just like this. And by my side. And dancing with me. I don’t want anybody else; I don’t want anything else.” I can’t help the words coming out. I’m under her spell.
“No?” She breathes out against my mouth, hovering above me, like she’s something saintly and ethereal.
“This is it. I can’t let you go.” I kiss her frantically, like the words I’ve spoken have somehow revved everything up. She kisses me back and we are a hurricane between the sheets, our bodies moving in perfect rhythm, our sounds loud.
“You’re so fucking perfect, sweetheart. You’re so good.”
Suddenly, her eyes widen, and she comes.
“Fuck, Julie. Look at you.” My hand cradles her jaw, thumb at her chin, moving up to press into her bottom lip. “Look at how perfect you are, look at how perfect you come.” Her eyes watch me religiously. I can’t hold on much longer as I continue to talk her through it.
“It’s so good, isn’t it?” I grit out, watching her fall apart above me.
“So good,” she says with a soft cry.
“Be selfish,” I remind her. “Take everything. You fucking deserve all of it.”
“Logan,” she whimpers.
And then I come, a flood of relief, with her hands gripping my arms in a way that feels grounding, deliberate, and real.
Chapter twenty-six
