Page 161 of Before You Fell

“You feel like a fucking dream,” he says, his hips snapping forward. “You feel like something I conjured up while missing you and too much of a fucking coward to pick up the phone.” He fucks into me harder now, the headboard finding the wall. “I want to feel you soak my cock the way you soaked my mouth. I want you coming so fucking hard you forget every other person who has ever been inside you because after tonight, Wills, I am the only one you are going to remember.”

My orgasm hits hard. It tears through me. Pleasure so brutal it steals every sound I have for a suspended second before ripping a moan from me that I’ll think about for a long time.

My back arches. My thighs lock around his hips so tight he groans as my pussy clamps down around his cock in waves, clenching and releasing, pulling him deeper, and I feel every pulse of it from the inside out.

Phoenix curses and then moans, every muscle in his body going rigid as he holds himself back, and fucks me through it. He keeps moving, dragging every last wave of pleasure through me.

“That’s it,” he grits out, his voice shot to pieces. “Fuck, Willow.” His hips drive forward, hard, once, twice. “That’s it. Come all over my cock.”

I do.

Pleasure keeps pulsing through me in waves I can’t control. He watches every second of it with a look so intense it almost feels like worship. If worship had a dirty mouth and a grip hard enough to leave marks on my hips that I will find tomorrow and not be sorry about.

When I start to come down, he slows but doesn’t stop.

My body is too oversensitive, every nerve ending raw and sparking.

He leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth.

“Too much?” he asks.

I shake my head.

His mouth curves. “Hold on. I’m taking what I fucking need now.”

A shiver moves through me so strongly that my toes curl.

He shifts, hooking my leg higher, opening me wider beneath him, and the new angle makes us both exhale sharply.

Every stroke draws a sound from me I can’t swallow.

He draws it out, refusing to let me hide from how badly I still want him.

I should be embarrassed by how I cling to him. But I’m not.

I let myself experience the weight of him. The heat of him. Hear the things he mutters against my skin, all dirty talk and hunger and possession, a running filthy commentary that bypasses my brain entirely and goes straight to my pussy.

He looks down between us. At where his cock is sliding into me, my pussy stretched around him, wet and swollen and taking every inch he gives me.

He watches for a moment before a smirk appears.

“Such a pretty fucking mess,” he says, voice rough and deeply satisfied. “You have any idea what my cock looks like fucking you? Sliding in and out of your soaked pussy as if it was made for me.”

He looks back up at me with dark eyes, dirty mouth, and all that devastating certainty. “Because it always was, wasn’t it, Wills.”

I nod because I don’t know what it looks like. I only know the sensation he is giving me.

“You are mine,” he says.

The words hang there and I wait for the smirk, the pivot, and for Phoenix to turn it into something he can survive. But he just rests his forehead against mine, breathing hard.

My fingers find his jaw.

“I have wanted to fuck you like this for so fucking long that it has made me crazy,” he says, closing his eyes. “You have no idea how many times I have thought about having you like this, Wills.”

There’s a shift in him. The way his hands hold me instead of gripping me. The way his mouth finds mine like he needs it rather than wants it. This is not fucking. This is something else entirely. Something that scares me even more.

He pulls back and looks at me with dark brown eyes and his rhythm changes.