Page 130 of The Rookie

So damn tight and warm and wet and perfect, and I swear to God, I could lose it right here.

I grip her hips, trying to hold still, trying to let her adjust, but she shifts—just slightly?—

And I nearly lose my fucking mind.

"Goddamn it, Sinclair." My voice is strained, tight, barely holding on.

She smirks down at me, teasing, dangerous.

"Told you I could handle it. I’m getting used to you.”

I snap.

I thrust up, hard, deep, making her cry out.

I wrap my arm around her back, holding her against me, my mouth dragging along her neck, my teeth scraping her skin.

"We’ll see about that."

She clenches around me, her nails raking down my back, and I don’t hold back anymore.

I grip her hips and start moving, setting a brutal rhythm, relentless and deep.

She’s breathless, gasping, shaking.

“Oh fuck, Griff. Deeper. Like that. Oh my God…”

I watch her fall apart in my arms, watch her bite her lip, watch her try to keep it together.

But she can’t.

She won’t.

Because I won’t let her.

"Come for me, Sinclair."

Her body shudders, her breath catches, and then she does.

Hard.

Sharp.

Loud enough that someone inside the hotel is definitely going to complain.

And I don’t even care.

Because I’m right behind her.

I let go, burying myself deep, crushing my mouth against hers, swallowing every sound she makes.

And fuck, I’ve never come harder in my life.

thirty-four

. . .

Avery

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