Page 40 of Resist

Ainsley’s back slammed against the window as Coulton took her with the kind of passion she thought was restricted to the pages of dirty romance novels. He didn’t hold anything back, and neither did she, meeting him halfway, thrust for glorious thrust.

She came within minutes, her body disintegrating as she was blinded by a white-hot flash, the sounds around her muted by the deafening pounding of her heart.

Coulton was mere seconds behind her, jerking roughly as he came, jets of hot come splashing against the walls of her pussy.

As the last remnants of their orgasms faded, Coulton stilled, his grip on her ass tight enough that he was adding new bruises to the ones she’d gotten last night. These, however, felt like a gift, a badge of honor.

The two of them remained there, fighting to regain their breath, their strength.

Coulton was the first to move, slowly releasing her, even while holding her steady.

“Okay?” he asked.

Ainsley nodded. “So fucking okay.”

He smiled, then kissed her. “Ready to move to the couch?”

She laughed. “So fucking ready.”

* * *

Ainsley opened her eyes, squinting through the darkness. It only took her a second to recall where she was, and then a second more to figure out what had woken her from the deepest sleep of her life.

No. Not what.

Who.

She peered down her naked body, grinning when she spotted Coulton kneeling between her outstretched thighs. He ran his tongue along her slit again, and she hummed, arching her back like a well-loved kitten.

Coulton lifted his gaze to hers. “We haven’t finished our list.”

Ainsley shivered with expectation and need. After their sex against the window, they’d retreated to the couch, alternating between making out and cuddling for a half hour before Coulton lifted her, draping her over the back and fucking her from behind through not one, not two, but three orgasms.

Three.

Ainsley still couldn’t quite believe this night was real. Amazing things like this didn’t happen to her.

Which meant she had to be at home, in her own shitty bed, having the greatest sex dream in the history of dreaming.

If so, she never wanted to wake up.

Coulton stroked her again, his tongue making the long journey from her anus to her clit, and she closed her eyes, blinded by stars.

From the couch, they’d made their way to Coulton’s master bath. His tub was even bigger than the one in the guest room, and it had jets. He’d run them a bubble bath, the two of them soaking together in silence, speaking only through touch and kisses.

They’d fallen asleep after the bath, but it looked as if Coulton had gotten his second wind and was ready for round three.

Ring the bell,she thought. Because she was ready too.

Coulton drew a circle with the tip of his tongue, going round and round her clit, teasing her mercilessly. If he hadn’t already proven he was thoroughly well-versed in the female body, knowing exactly what to do, she’d think him a lame lover like her past three.

“Need instructions?” she taunted, loving the way his eyes darkened whenever she dared to challenge his alpha male.

Rather than reply, Coulton nipped her clit with his teeth, applying enough pressure to make her squirm. She’d long ago given up trying to understand why pain was such a turn-on for her. For a while, she wondered if it was the result of something from her childhood. If it was, she’d never managed to connect the dots, and in the end, she decided she didn’t care, accepting that she was just wired that way.

“Any other critiques?” he asked, releasing her clit.

She wanted to come up with some smart-ass reply, but Coulton had fucked every brain cell she had to a state of exhaustion. So all she managed to do was give him a breathy huff of a laugh.

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