Page 47 of Over the Edge

Then he was back, pressing against me, his cock sliding through my folds again. He positioned himself at my entrance, teasing me with just the tip, pressing his chest against my back, his lips brushing my ear. “Tell me how you want it.”

“Hard,” I breathed, arching back against him. “I don’t want to be able to walk tomorrow.”

A growl rumbled through his chest. His hand slid down my spine, over the curve of my ass. His palm came down with a sharp crack against my ass, and I gasped, my body jerking forward from the delicious sting. Heat bloomed across my skin as he massaged the spot, soothing and inflaming in equal measure.

“Does my naughty siren like that?”

“Yes,” I moaned, pressing back against him. “God, yes.”

His palm cracked against my other cheek, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out, my pussy clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growled, positioning himself at my entrance. “Look at yourself.”

I lifted my gaze to the mirror, catching my reflection—cheeks flushed, eyes wild, my nipples hard little nubs, my lips swollen from his kisses. Behind me, Flynn’s body was all hard planes and rippling muscles, golden skin marked by my nails, his eyes burning with hunger. He looked like a predator about to devour his prey, and I looked like I couldn’t wait to be consumed.

“Watch,” he commanded, his voice a rough whisper against my ear. “Watch me take you.”

He held my gaze in the mirror as he thrust into me in one savage stroke. The sudden fullness knocked the breath from my lungs. He was thick, stretching me in the most delicious way, and I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped me.

“Christ, you’re tight,” he groaned, his forehead dropping to my shoulder. “So fucking perfect.”

He began to move, slow at first, each thrust deliberate and deep. I braced my hands against the mirror, pushing back to meet him, taking him deeper with each stroke. The angle was exquisite, hitting spots inside me that made my vision blur.

“Harder,” I demanded, arching my back to take him deeper. “I’m not going to break.”

Something dark and primal flashed in his eyes. He gripped my hips, fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to bruise as he picked up the pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixed with our ragged breathing and my desperate moans. Each thrust drove me higher, closer to that edge where coherent thought dissolved into pure sensation.

The sight of us together was obscene and perfect—his muscles flexing with every thrust, my body yielding to his, the place where we joined slick and glistening. I couldn’t look away, mesmerized by the raw hunger in his eyes, the way his jaw clenched with each drive of his hips.

I was going to come again. I could feel it building—hot and tight and inevitable—and I wanted it, needed it more than air or sanity or anything else that wasn’t Flynn.

“Look at you,” Flynn growled, his voice wrecked. “Taking my cock so perfectly. Like you were made for me.”

His hand slid around to find my clit, circling the sensitive bud in time with his thrusts, and I cried out, my inner walls clenching around him.

“Oh, God!”

“Not God.” His other hand closed around my throat, applying just enough pressure to make my pulse pound beneath his fingers. “You say my name when I’m inside you.”

“Flynn,” I gasped, the word tearing from my throat as his cock hit that perfect spot inside me.

“Good girl. The growled approval sent another wave of heat crashing through me. His fingers worked faster against my clit, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own release. “Come with me, Lyric. Let me feel you.”

The pressure of his hand on my throat, the relentless pounding of his cock, the slick circles of his fingers on my clit—it was too much.

“Flynn!” My scream was fierce, raw, torn from me as the orgasm hit like a fucking freight train. My whole body shook with it, every nerve ending going supernova as I shattered around him.

He was right there with me, thrusting harder, faster—pumping into me like he was losing his goddamn mind. I felt him tense, felt the ripple of muscles beneath his skin as he buried himself deep.

He came undone with a ragged groan, his whole body tensing as he spilled into me, hot and thick and fucking endless. The heat of him sent another wave crashing through me, pushing me over the edge all over again.

We stayed like that—connected, trembling, stunned by the force of what had just happened between us. Then his forehead dropped to my back, his breath coming in ragged gasps against my skin.

“Goddamn. I knew it would be good between us, but… fuck, Lyric.” His voice was rough, raw, like he’d been screaming for hours. “That was…” He trailed off like he couldn’t find the right word.

I couldn’t, either. I didn’t think I could speak at all. What were words?

My legs were jelly, my mind scattered in fragments around the room. Every nerve ending still tingled, aftershocks rippling through me with each brush of his skin against mine.

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