Page 98 of Make Me Mean It

My hips jerk into Connor’s fist as I come over his hand, my knees threatening to fold beneath me while pleasure keeps ripping through my stomach, my breath breaking against the wall with every pulse.

His hand moves once more and a jolt tears through my cock so sharp that my hips twitch away from it.

“Fuck,” I pant, squeezing my eyes shut.

Connor huffs against my shoulder, half laugh, half breath, before his mouth presses to my skin.

He stays there, lips warm against my shoulder while I’m still trying to get my legs underneath me, and my chest gives one stupid, painful squeeze.

Connor’s hand slips away, and I feel him start to pull back, which has my eyes snapping open and my fingers closing around his wrist before he gets anywhere. I drag him straight back against me.

“Don’t you dare,” I rasp.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he breathes against my shoulder.

His hips shift with the words and his cock drags against me, pulling another shudder through muscles that haven’t stopped shaking yet.

I let my head fall back against his shoulder. “I’m not one of your fragile girls,” I huff, reaching behind me, closing my hand around his cock and guiding him back between my ass cheeks, pressing back against the head until Connor sucks in a breath. I turn my face enough to catch the edge of his expression. “So shut up and fuck me.”

“You’re such a dick,” he mutters, the deep bite of his fingers over my hips stealing what little satisfaction I might’ve got from winding him up when my breath catches instead.

“Yeah?” I brace both palms against the wall, locking my elbows when my legs threaten to wobble again. “Take it out on my ass then.”

Connor curses, spreading his palm over my stomach and pulling me firmly back against him as he pushes in.

“Fuck.”

The stretch burns, my ass clenching around him. Too tight. Too full. My hips twitch forward, palms slipping against the wall.

Fuckfuckfuck.

I asked for this.

I fucking asked for this.

“Theo, shit,” Connor curses, freezing inside me.

I almost swear at him until his hand starts moving over my stomach, slow circles beneath my ribs while his chest rises and falls against my back.

“Fuck, are you okay?”

I drag air into my lungs through my nose and make myself unclench. My thighs loosen first, then my stomach beneath Connor’s hand, and the burn gradually eases until I can feel past it.

The fullness doesn’t go anywhere.

“Mhmm,” I barely manage to hum.

Connor stays exactly where he is, determined to make me fucking ask for it again.

“Fucking move,” I gasp.

His fingers flex against my hip. “Theo.”

I press my forehead into the wall, because of course the stubborn bastard is going to stay exactly where he is until I give him what he wants.

“Please.”

Connor groans and finally moves.