And then he sets a brutal rhythm.
Deep. Hard. Devastating.
His hands grip my thighs, spreading me wider, opening me up so he can fuck me even deeper.
I sob his name, my hands fisting the sheets, the pleasure slamming into me over and over.
"You love this, don't you?" he growls, his hips snapping against mine, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside me every time.
I nod frantically, unable to speak, too lost in the feeling of him wrecking me.
He leans down, biting my lower lip, swallowing my moans.
Then his fingers find my clit, rubbing fast, tight circles.
I scream, arching into him, my whole body shattering.
"Come for me, baby." His voice is dark, urgent. "Come all over my cock."
I break.
Pleasure slams into me, my vision going white, my body locking up as I come hard around him.
Liam groans, his rhythm faltering, his thrusts turning erratic.
Then he buries himself deep, his cock throbbing, his jaw clenching as he spills inside me.
For a moment, we just breathe.
Liam collapses onto his forearms, his face buried against my neck, both of us shaking, gasping, completely fucking wrecked.
I feel his heart pounding against mine, his breath hot against my skin.
His lips brush over my jaw, my cheek, soft now, almost reverent.
And when he finally pulls back to look at me, his eyes aren't just full of lust anymore.
They're full of a reality that's soft and golden, that feels like sunlight spilling from my fingertips.
He brushes his fingers over my cheek, his touch softer now.
The room is still humming with the aftershocks of what just happened.
The sheets are tangled around my legs, the air thick with warmth, the faint scent of Liam's skin wrapped around me like a second blanket. My body is still buzzing, my limbs boneless in the best way, and when I turn my head, he's already watching me.
The bastard is smirking.
I groan, pressing my face into the pillow. "Don't."
"Don't what?" His voice is rough, lazy, like he's never been more comfortable in his life.
I peek at him through one eye. "Don't look so smug."
Liam chuckles, stretching his arms over his head, the muscles in his stomach flexing in a way that is both unfair and distracting. He shifts onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow as he trails a finger down my arm, leaving a slow, teasing path of warmth in its wake.
"Ava," he murmurs, voice low and satisfied, "I just made you scream my name like it was a prayer. I think I'm allowed to be a little smug."
Heat floods my face. I shove at his shoulder, but he doesn't budge. "Shut up."