Page 72 of Connor

But right now, it was the only thing we knew how to do.

Connor handled my waist like he was staking a claim, fingers digging into my skin, his breath ragged, his chest rising and falling like he was barely keeping himself in check.

"Fuck, Summer,"he groaned against my neck, his lips hot and open-mouthed, teeth scraping along my pulse, making me shudder. His fingers flexed, pressing into the softness of my waist, like he wanted to grab, to hold, to never fucking let go. "You have no fucking idea what you do to me."

I did know.

I could feel it.

His cock, thick and hard, pressed against my stomach through his boxers, already leaking against the fabric. The heat of him, the sheer size—God, I had missed this, missed him. And now? Now I had him exactly where I wanted him.

Or, well. Almost.

“Wha—” Connor grew confused when I pulled away.

“I want you on your back,” I told him. Then I shoved him on the bed, and I took off my clothes. His cock was rock hard and his boxers were tented. I did my best to work them off, avoiding taking him in my mouth when it started to water.

Not now.

I needed more than his cum on my tongue at that moment.

As soon as we were both naked, I straddled him. My pussy was wet despite my best efforts to ignore his effects on me, and for the first time I didn’t bother to avoid it. I rocked my hips against him, teasing, feeling the sharp inhale that rattled through his chest.

"You like this, don’t you?" I whispered, dragging my nails down his stomach, feeling the tremor that ran through him. I hoped he didn’t hear the self-consciousness in my voice.

I shouldn’t have bothered thinking about that. Connor tipped his head back against the pillow, his eyes fluttering closed for half a second before locking back onto me—blown wide, dazed, hungry.

"Fuck yeah, I like this," he rasped. His hands slid up, over my ribs, palms spreading over my full, sensitive breasts, pinching and plucking my beaded nipples. I gasped, arching into his touch, and his lips curled, slow, predatory. "Like watching you use me."

I swallowed hard, my skin burning under his stare, under the raw, open hunger carved into his face.

"Then let me," I whispered.

His pupils blew wide.

"Fuck." His hands dropped to my hips. "Take it, baby. Take whatever the fuck you need."

I reached between us and palmed his cock, pumping it slowly until he hissed and arched beneath me, slowly growing impatient. The thick length of him flushed dark, already slick at the tip. My mouth watered. Connor groaned when I wrapped my hands around him.

"Shit, Summer," he ground out.

I smirked, shifting above him, rubbing the head of his cock against my slick folds, teasing him, watching the way his stomach tensed.

"Do you know how much I hate it?" I murmured, dragging him through my wetness, coating him. "The fact that every time I’m with you, I’m wondering about who you were with before? And whether you thought about me… if it was transactional, or if those women gave you something I couldn’t."

His eyes snapped open, feral.

"Summer." His voice was a warning, raw and low, but his hips rocked up instinctively, chasing the heat, the slick. "Don’t do this now, baby. Don’t—"

I sank down in one smooth motion, taking him in deep and Connor snapped.

His hands flew to my waist, a strangled groan ripping from his throat as I took every thick, pulsing inch of him in one agonising movement. Fuck—fuck, it felt so good it almost knocked the air from my lungs.

His jaw clenched, his hands trembling against my skin.

"Jesus Christ," he gritted out, his voice wrecked. "You’re so goddamn perfect, baby. Fuck—"

I moaned, rolling my hips, feeling the way he filled me so perfectly, so deeply.

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