Page 48 of Striker’s Rebel

“Striker, please.”

He gives me exactly what I’m asking for.

The tension coils hard and fast.

My back arches off the rug.

Then everything breaks again.

I scream his name, my body shaking beneath him while the second orgasm tears through me harder than the first.

By the time it finally releases me, I’m completely wrecked.

I stare at the ceiling, trying to figure out whether normal people are supposed to be able to feel their legs after something like that.

Striker rises above me.

The hunger in his eyes hasn’t gone anywhere.

That seems deeply unfair considering I’m fairly certain he just killed me twice.

Then he reaches for the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it over his head.

My attention sharpens immediately.

He stands and strips out of his jeans and briefs.

My breath catches.

Every nervous thought I’ve ever had about eventually losing my virginity suddenly feels completely reasonable.

He’s thick, hard, and intimidating enough that I look from him to his face and back again.

Striker notices.

His mouth curves.

He reaches down, takes my hand, and guides it toward him.

“Touch me, June.”

Chapter 6

June

I wrap my hand around him, and my fingers don’t come close to meeting.

Oh, hell.

Seeing him was one thing. Actually holding him is another.

He’s hot and hard in my palm, and the first twitch against my fingers makes me look up at him.

Striker’s jaw is clenched.

Apparently, I’m not the only one affected here.

That helps more than it should.