Page 86 of Falling for the Enemy

“Keep looking at me, Jocelyn. I need your eyes on me.” Negotiation had no place when his voice held such command.

Anticipation coiled in her belly like a serpent, and her breath shook as she tried to feign calmness, feeling anything but. She only obeyed because rebellion would have cost her more than compliance in that moment.

She couldn’t explain her reluctance to go here with him, didn’t know how to name it. Maybe it was commitment phobia, maybe it was a deep-seated fear of intimacy. All she knew was that this was different from every other time before.

He rolled his hips forward, drawing in breath as he finally penetrated her. “Fuck,” he breathed, pulling back as if he needed time to adjust to the intense pleasure, as if it were even too intense for him.

Soren was the only man to ever make her tremble like this. The only man to want her so completely, it terrified her. She could feel her soul shaking so hard he felt it too, but that kind of response only hardened his resolve and prolonged his patience.

With slow, drugging kisses, he coaxed her mouth open. Shockingly, they hadn’t kissed all that much in their time together. Sex had always been an explosive collision of frustrated need, an itch that desperately needed to be scratched.

“You have the sexiest mouth,” he whispered, dragging his lips to the shell of her ear as the weight of his engorged cock rested between them, heavy and swollen.

“Soren, please…”

He groaned, long and low. “I love it when you beg.” He pressed into her slowly, giving her body time to accept his thick length, and she whimpered, feeling every place their bodies touched. “See how good it can be when you let me take the lead.”

Her hand tightened on his forearm in warning.

“More?” He thrust into her, burying himself before she could answer, and then he held himself there, deep inside, as if to show just how perfectly his body fit with hers.

A low groan escaped him, raw and unguarded, as if the sensations of her tight body gripping his thick cock were too much to bear. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, breathing hard against her skin, and gave himself a moment to reclaim control.

Tension unraveled in her chest as a protective wave washed over her. The need to hold him had her hand lifting. He trembled when she raked her fingers slowly through his hair. “Are you okay?”

He shivered and nodded. “Fine.” His lips found hers in a slow, vulnerable kiss and his hips slowly moved with deep, unhurried revolutions that dragged along her most sensitive places.

Each rock of his hips was deliberate, angled to touch her in ways that built a gradual, unbearable heat from the inside out. His breathing grew ragged against her collarbone.

“Stay with me.” It was a plea wrapped in a command. He cupped her face, holding her still so he could take her mouth as he wanted. “Jesus, Jocelyn…”

His eyes were mercury and fire, holding hers with the weight of something that went far deeper than sex. His free hand dragged along her ribs, mapping her, claiming her, committing every curve to memory.

When his palm swept across her breast, his thumb dragged over her nipple, and she arched into the contact. He bowed his head and took the puckered tip into his mouth.

“That’s it,” he murmured against her sensitized flesh. “Take me deeper. As deep as I can fit.”

He didn’t increase his pace. If anything, he slowed down until each deep push of his hips landed like a prayer, a promise he couldn’t put into words. The patience of it cracked her carefully constructed walls open, and she couldn’t breathe through the sudden tightness in her chest.

She’d seen him aggressive. She’d seen him take what he wanted and move on. But now, he was here, completely present, wholly with her, and it terrified her more than any rough fucking ever could.

Her inner walls involuntarily clenched around him as her orgasm broke loose. His whole body shuddered as a sound escaped him. He groaned, murmuring her name against her skin.

“Soren,” she cried, holding onto him as her muscles locked.

His mouth returned to hers, greedily seeking, overcome with a desperation neither of them could have prepared for. His hips thrust quickly, abandoning any artful tempo in pursuit of hedonistic relief.

When his forehead pressed to hers, he fought for breath. “God, Jocelyn.” His voice barely whispered across her lips. “The way your body grips mine when I’m inside of you, so fucking deep that I can feel your heart beating through my cock.”

She wanted to hide from the weight of that admission, but he wouldn’t allow it.

“Feel it. Feel me inside of you. No one else knows you this deeply.”

Another flutter pulsed low in her belly, different from the first. Slower. Deeper. Drowning her slowly, washing away her armor so thoroughly she feared never being able to protect herself again.

She gripped his arms, her nails leaving crescent marks in his skin. He moved faster, stealing a moment of pure pleasure so intense, she was able to slip away. He smiled against her neck, the curve of his lips pressing into her flesh before he pulled back just enough to look at her again.

His eyes tracked every micro-expression, reading her body’s language like a man who’d spent years studying nothing but her. When he registered the clenching of her jaw, the tension in her shoulders, he slowed even further.