Page 100 of Point of No Return

“I don’t want to go to sleep.”

My legs move on their own accord. I’m standing, walking closer until I’m just a few feet away. Even in the dark, I can see the hardened outline of his shoulders. His dark eyes study the thin silk top I have on. No doubt he can see the way he affects me. I’m practically trembling, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.

“Charlie,” he warns, but I dare closer anyways.

I’m close enough to reach out and run my hands over his chest, and for once, I do. The muscled planes are hard beneath my hands. My fingers wander over his shoulders, and as I’m about to stand on my toes and beg for him, he grabs my wrists, tugging me closer.

“I can’t be gentle,” he murmurs, and those words alone nearly have me on my knees.

“Who said anything about gentle?”

One breath is all we allow ourselves. His lips are against mine, his hands in my hair as I stand on my toes just to reach him. He’s hot and cold all at once, kissing me like I’m the last sip of water on a hot day, pulling me into him like close isn’t close enough.

And god dammit.No one’s ever kissed me like this- like they want every last bit of me.

His hands are rough, trailing down my waist and slipping beneath my top. And then my shirt is gone, and my nipples are so impossibly hard until his fingers clamp down on them. A moan leaves my mouth, and the sound only seems to encourage him. He reaches down, lifting me in one swift movement. He’s rock hard, pressing against my core. My back is pressed against the wall, and his tongue sweeps the seam of my mouth.

He’s grinding into me, and I’m sure he can feel how wet I am through my pajama bottoms. We break apart, and he’s leaving hot kisses down my neck, sucking the skin between his teeth.

He sets me down long enough to yank the silk bottoms down my thighs too. But I’m desperate for his lips again. I stand on my tippy-toes as he reaches into the wardrobe and withdraws something from one of the drawers.

His eyes find me again, raking over my bare body but ultimately landing on the sexy black lace of my thong.

“Off,” he commands, and when I hook my fingers around the band and drag them down my hips, his eyes track the movement.

I’m desperate for him, and I kiss him again. He lifts me with one arm, and I gasp as I feel his other hand between my legs, teasing my pussy with two fingers. His thumb circles my clit in one slow, torturous movement, and I buck against his hand, desperate for friction.

I’m so wet that I know his fingers are soaked as he suddenly lifts them to his mouth, tasting me. And when he hums in contentment, I know all he has to do is touch me again, and I’ll come undone for him.

“I need you inside me,” I beg, and when I hear the sound of a condom opening, I know what’s coming next.

I lean back and tug the band of his pants lower, gasping as his cock springs free, brushing my center. He rolls the condom on, and in one swift stroke, he sheathes himself inside me. I gasp at his size, at the sweet ache building in my stomach, at the delicious feeling of his breath in my ear.

His strokes are slow at first, pained. “Fucking hell, Charlotte,” he groans in my ear. “So tight,” he praises, and when he withdraws inch by inch only to slam back into me, I’m nearly seeing stars.

I’m going to be sore as hell tomorrow, and in the lowlight, I see him smirk as if he knows it too.

Prick, I want to say but I’m too turned on to care.

Heat builds between my legs as he seats himself fully inside me again, groaning as I use the wall and lift my hips. The angle is so much deeper, and he lifts a hand, gripping my throat as I ride him.

“You feel incredible,” he gruffs in my ear, and that heat only builds further as he pistons into me.

Shit, I can feel myself going over the edge. And I’ve never gone over the edge with someone before. There’s no going back from this.

His fingers dig into my thighs suddenly, and he lifts me off the wall, still stretching me as he walks us back toward the bed. I bounce as I hit the mattress, but then his body is over me. His other hand is still gripping my throat, the pressure just on the verge of hurting until his hand traces my jaw up to my mouth.

He kisses me once, twice, and then his thumb is tracing the outline of my mouth. He lays me back, and for a moment, he just looks at me, spread bare on the sheets for him.

If the lights were on, he’d see how much I flush beneath his gaze. His fingers wander over the plane of my stomach, his thumb brushing over the curve of my breast. Then he’s inside me again, and I cry out as my back arches off the bed for him. Gripping my hips, he slams into me again and again and again, and just as I think I can’t possibly be any fuller, he’s lifting my hips higher. I can’t help the little gasps I’m making, the moans that are near-screams.

“Skar,” I gasp when he finds a spot that has me going wild. The pressure, his size- all of it is too much. I fist the sheets, squirming as he hits a spot so deep inside me that it’s a wonder he can fit it all. He groans, tensing when I reach out and grip his muscled forearm just for some kind of traction. The movement only arches my back off the bed completely.

“Baby, if you keep doing that, this isn’t going to last long.”

Something in me snaps when I hear the words, the praise, the nickname rolling off his tongue like it was meant to be there. Like this won’t be a mistake when we wake up tomorrow. Like we both won’t end up regretting this when it’s all over.

Right now, I don’t care about any of it. I want him- even if forsaken moments at night are all I have of him. Here, now- nothing else matters.

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