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“I missed you,” I huffed out. “And it was like I was starving the whole time.”
“Me too,” he whispered.
“So then, dinner can wait.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “I need to see you, so … on your back, all right?”
I would have answered, but the sizzling heat shorted out my brain.
“Hold on, baby,” he said gruffly.
I was big and strong; I was covered in scars from knives and bullets, my nose had been broken more times than I could count, and people said all the time that I seemed scary and moved dangerously. But somehow, someway, Aaron Sutter, suave Wall Street billionaire, gazed into my eyes and thought baby. It was overwhelming and made me all the more desperate to cement the man in my life. He needed to stay because he actually saw me.
His hands went behind my thighs, pushing forward, opening me, and pressing down, the head of his cock sliding along my crease before it slipped inside a fraction.
“Hurry,” I barely got out, the shudder tearing through me.
I was still relaxed from earlier, so my muscles didn’t clench or fight him—no shove needed, just a long, smooth stroke, all the way in.
“This is right. It’s supposed to be like this.” His voice was low and hoarse.
“Yes.”
He curled over me, my legs on his forearms, making sure he had me supported before he eased out.
“Aaron!”
His hips snapped forward, and he was buried in me hard and deep.
My hands scrambled for purchase in the sheets because I had to ground myself so I wouldn’t move. I didn’t want to move.
Again, he drew back slowly, and I could feel how slick I was with lube and precum before he rammed inside, the plunge not careful, all about hunger and power and urgency. He liked me where I was—open for him, under him. His narrowed eyes, clenched jaw, the cording muscles in his arms, his hands gripping my legs—he wanted me, badly, and the knowledge sent tremors of pleasure surging up my spine.
The retreat followed instantly with the breach, again and again; the pounding onslaught, furious and fast, propelled me quickly over the edge.
My climax came too fast to warn him, and what there was spurted over his smooth, flat stomach. The sound he made when I did it, the moan torn from his chest, made me shiver as he froze above me, his own release just as unexpected.
I saw him shaking and lifted my hands for him. “Come here.”
He wanted to, but it was almost like he was afraid.
“Aaron,” I coaxed him, reaching out.
Closing his eyes, he leaned into my hands, kissing the palm of my left before he gave me his weight.
“Let me have you.”
As he slipped from my body, the gush of fluid was a worry.
“I should go get a towel to clean––”
“Who cares?” I said, my voice soothing.
“But you just showered and—”
“I wanna hold you.”
I eased my legs down on the bed, and he moved, straddling my thighs, still not falling over on top of me.
