Page 160 of Before You Fell

I stare at him.

Something is different in the way he looks at me, in the way his hands touch me. He has not once made this about himself. It sits in my chest like something I don’t yet have a word for.

His hand slides under my ass and grips hard, lifting my hips off the mattress. The new angle drives him deeper, and a broken sound spills out of me before I can catch it.

“There,” he says, his voice thick with pride. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?”

I glare at him even though my entire body is shaking. “Don’t sound so pleased with yourself.”

He drives into me again, and a moan escapes.

His mouth curves. “Hard not to be pleased when your pussy keeps giving you away.”

"Phoenix,” I breathe.

His control slips. His hand comes up to the front of my throat, not tight, just possessive. His palm is warm against my pulse.

“Say my name again,” he says.

“Phoenix,” I say.

His hips snap harder as he closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, his grip on my throat tightens just slightly, and his other hand pins my hip down so I take every thrust exactly the way he wants to give it. The combination of his cock driving into me, his hand at my throat, and his eyes watching my face dismantles every last wall I had left.

He leans forward and kisses me with every starving part of himself. His tongue slides against mine, swallowing every sound I make. His body drives into me again and again with a rhythm that is dirty. The bed moves beneath us. The room narrows down to heat, sweat, and the obscene sound of him fucking me properly this time. The way he should have the first time.

“I’ve got you,” he says against my mouth. “I’ve fucking got you, Wills.”

My body starts to tighten again, pleasure building too fast, too soon, because he already dragged one orgasm out of me with his mouth and fingers. Now every deep stroke of his cock is landing in exactly the place he has clearly made it his personal mission to ruin.

He senses it as well.

“Already?” he murmurs.

“Shut up.”

His hips drive forward. “No, I want your tight little pussy coming on my cock. I want every fucking piece of you, Wills. All of it. Give it to me.”

A moan tears out of me so loud I should be embarrassed about it.

His eyes never leave mine as his hand slides down over my stomach, past my hip, fingers spreading warm against my skin until his thumb finds my clit.

“Fuck,” I say.

Phoenix does it again. His thumb flicks softly on my clit while his cock drives into me deep. The two sensations combine into something my body has absolutely no defense against.

“That’s it,” he says, watching my face the whole time. “There’s my girl.”

His thumb moves over my clit, matching the deep filthy rhythm of his thrusts, giving me no room to breathe or think. No room to do anything except feel every sensation he is giving me.

My thighs tremble around his hips.

I lift my hands and drag my nails down his arms—hard enough to leave marks.

He groans as if the pain were a reward.

I’m close. My whole body is climbing toward something bigger and more dangerous than anything physical because there is emotion beneath it now.

He fucks me like he has been thinking about it for years and has catalogued every sound I make. I sense every ridge of his cock dragging through me before he drives back in hard.