Page 88 of The Rookie

My breath catches, and I clench around him, my nails biting into his shoulders.

“Griffin…” My voice is barely more than a whimper. “How do you…know what to do if I’m your first?”

His eyes darken, his grip tightening at my hips, his abs flexing as he holds himself back.

“I’ve only fantasized about fucking you about a thousand times,” he whispers, his grin turning crooked, filthy, devastating. “But I’m so comfortable with you, you make it easy, baby. Can I pick up the pace yet?”

Fuck.

I can barely breathe. My eyebrows flutter, my head falling back, and I offer a subtle nod—but it’s not enough for him.

Griffin grabs my chin, forcing my gaze back to him. “Words, Sinclair. They’re your friend.”

His voice is low, commanding, sending a shiver straight down my spine.

“Fuck me, Griff. Fuck me hard. Fuck me however you want with that big thing.”

He speeds his pace, and staring into my eyes, grips both of my asscheeks and he buries himself to the hilt.

Biting my ear. “How does it feel to be taking every inch of me?”

And that’s it. That’s all it takes.

Pleasure crashes through me, sharp and overwhelming, my release pouring through me in waves just from the way he’s looking at me—his chiseled body, red-faced and wrecked, his thick cock stretching me just right, his hands gripping me like he never wants to let go.

I cry out, arching beneath him, my thighs trembling as I pulse around him, and his jaw tightens as he groans low in his throat, his control hanging by a thread.

I barely manage to catch my breath, my cheeks burning, my body still shaking.

His lips curl into a satisfied smirk, but his eyes are pure fire.

“Your pussy is fucking perfect. You take me so well, baby.”

His words send a shiver down my spine, and then he moves, his hips pressing forward, and I feel myself stretch around him, my body adjusting inch by inch. He’s slow, deliberate, and the tension between us grows with every movement.

His jaw tightens, and his breath catches as he presses deeper. “Yeah, that’s it,” he groans, his voice breaking. "You feel incredible."

I cling to him, my fingers digging into his shoulders, both of us trembling as he moves inside me. There’s something raw, almost sacred about this—about the way he watches me, the way his hands never stop moving, stroking my sides, my thighs, caressing my ass—as though he’s afraid to let go.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice a little unsteady.

I nod, my lips parting on a shaky breath. "Yes. Just…take your time."

He leans down, his forehead resting against mine, and I can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding himself back to make this perfect for me. And it is. Every careful thrust, every brush of his lips against my skin—it’s all perfect.

"You’re so sexy right now,” he murmurs, his voice soft and reverent, like he’s speaking a truth he can’t keep inside. “Cheeks all red and everything. I don’t think I’ll ever get over this."

The words hit me harder than they should, sending a shockwave straight through me, and I blink up at him, my chest tightening.

I’m about to say something, but whatever I was going to say gets lost in the sound of him—the deep, gritty groan that escapes his throat as he moves again, his hips finding a rhythm that has me arching against him, desperate for more.

The room is filled with it—the soft, wet slap of skin, the ragged sound of our breathing, the gravelly, uneven curses Griffin lets out under his breath.

“Yes, baby,” he groans, his control slipping just enough to make his movements more confident, more deliberate. His voice is low, rough, wrecked, like he’s feeling every inch of this just as much as I am.

A shudder rolls through me again, and I whimper, my nails dragging down his back as he leans in, his lips brushing my jaw, my ear, his breath hot and heavy against my skin.

“Tell me how it feels, baby,” he murmurs, his voice gravel-thick, laced with need. “Tell me everything.”

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