Page 104 of The Rookie

I shatter.

My body arches, locks up, my release crashing through me so hard I swear I black out for half a second.

I’m moaning, gasping, shaking, clenching around him, the pleasure so intense it’s almost too much, almost unbearable.

Griffin rides it out, slow, steady, his mouth still teasing, coaxing, guiding me through every last aftershock until I’m completely, blissfully undone.

Only then does he pull back, pressing a slow, wet kiss to my inner thigh.

His voice is low, wrecked, and entirely too satisfied.

“Now that’s how I want to hear you say my name.”

I’m still trembling, my body boneless and spent, my breath coming in uneven gasps as Griffin presses one last, lazy kiss to my thigh.

I barely have time to catch up, to process anything, before he’s moving again.

Before he flips me over onto my stomach like I weigh nothing, pressing me down into the mattress, his big hands gripping my hips, keeping me exactly where he wants me.

A shaky moan slips past my lips, my cheek pressing against the sheets, my body still buzzing, aching, sensitive all over.

I let out a loud, guttural noise.

“I love when you moan like that.” His voice is low, rough, vibrating through me. "You already got yours. Now it’s my turn."

I shiver, the words lighting me up all over again.

His hands smooth over my back, slow, deliberate, then down—gripping my ass, spreading me open, squeezing just enough to make me gasp.

"Fuck," he mutters, dragging a palm over the curve of my ass, appreciating every inch.

Then—a sharp, sudden smack.

I gasp, my body jerking, heat flashing up my spine.

He hums, running his hand over the sting, soothing, teasing.

Then—another slap, harder this time.

I suck in a sharp breath, my thighs clenching, my whole body tensing with need.

"Knew you’d like that," he murmurs, squeezing, kneading, dragging his fingers over the heat blooming across my skin. "God, baby, look at you. This ass is fucking perfect."

I whimper, pressing back against him, but he tuts, gripping my hips, keeping me still.

"You’re not running the show anymore, Sinclair. You belong to me, now. And I’m gonna give you what you deserve, baby.”

His words send a shiver through me, anticipation curling deep in my belly.

Then, without warning, he thrusts into me.

I cry out, my fingers fisting the sheets, my body stretching around him again, already throbbing from everything he’s done to me.

"Fucking hell," Griffin groans, his hands tightening on my hips, holding me open, taking me deeper.

He starts slow—long, deep strokes that make me feel every inch of him, make me stretch and ache, make me desperate all over again.

I push back against him, needing more, needing everything.

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