Page 52 of Holly Ever After

“Christ, you’re perfect.” He groans from deep in his chest, pulling my panties to the side, and slamming into me so hard, I scream.

Thank God I don’t have neighbors.

His hand comes down, covering mine on the counter—it's an oddly comforting sensation, and I wonder if it was always there.

I'm still pulsing around him, my body humming with pleasure.

“You're so fucking tight,” he groans, pushing my dress past my hips to pool around my waist.

He thrusts into me again, each stroke of his cock making my body scream for more. He wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me up, sliding me farther onto the counter. I spread my legs, the cool marble making me shudder. Grabbing my ass with both hands, he pushes inside of me again and again until I can hardly catch my breath.

I prop myself on my elbows, watching him. I can't tear my eyes away. His chest is heaving, a line of sweat trailing down his stomach and disappearing into his pants.

“I'm so close,” I say, my voice breathy. He pulls out of me, and I swear I almost cry. “What are you doing?”

He grabs my hips to spin me around before sitting me on the counter and stepping between my spread legs. I’m smothered in everything that is him. His stature is too big, too intimidating, so masculine I’m drowning in it. He towers over me in a way he always has, but this is different. This is primal, possessive.

He presses himself against my entrance but stops when I let out a whimper.

“Like this?”

“Yes.”

He pushes into me inch by inch, the sting quickly replaced with mind numbing pleasure.

Another orgasm is building, I can feel the heat unfurling between my legs until I can’t support my own weight. It doesn’t matter because he’s there with his arm around my waist, holding me steady.

“That's right, baby,” he rasps. “Come all over my cock.”

When my head slumps, he wraps his hand around my throat forcing me to look at him.

It’s too intense. It’s too much when he looks at me like this. I can’t pretend here.

And either can he. I see it in how his muscles strain, in how his jaw clenches, and how he averts his gaze. He’s close to slipping over the edge with me but he doesn’t want to look at me when he does it. He doesn’t want it burned into his memories like it will be mine.

Defiant I palm his face and force his gaze back to mine. We’re both doing this…together. Whether he likes it or not.

“Eyes on me,” I breathe out, repeating his earlier demands. “I want your eyes on me when you come.”

I’m not sure if it’s pain or anger in the molten heat of his stare, but it doesn’t last long when he slams into me so hard my ass slides back on the counter.

Now he's angry, and there's a sick part of me that's happy about it.

“Fuck, Holly,” he roars, his chest vibrating.

He wraps his arm around my back as I lock my legs around his waist, tightening my grip, refusing to ease up. I meet him thrust for thrust, my thighs quivering, breathing erratic.

My mind is a haze, but I still notice how the cords in his neck strain, the muscles in his biceps bulging as he holds me tights against his chest.

I want to close my eyes, but I can’t. I need to see him.

I need to watch him as he falls. The expression on his face tells me he’s desperate for control. It's there in the tremble of his fingertips, in the way he presses his lips together and loses himself in my body.

Sean's mouth falls open as he lets out a low grunt, and we both topple over the edge...together.

We remain still for long endless moments, neither of us knowing what to do now.

When I come back to my senses, he's looking at me with that twisted up face he always wears when he's worried.

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