Page 75 of Text Me, Take Me

“Always.”

His hands reach for me, but I gently guide them back to the bed, holding the power between us. “Not yet. Let me… have you for a while.”

His jaw clenches, breath hitching, as I move lower, trailing kisses down his chest and stomach. I hover over him, cock hot and pulsing, and look up, locking eyes with him.

“This is mine tonight.”

“Yes,” he whispers in awe.

I take him in slowly, licking up the shaft first, tasting his desire on my tongue. He throbs beneath me, hips twitching with need, but he doesn’t thrust, just watches me, eyes wild and soft at the same time.

I slide my lips over the head, then lower, sucking gently, then harder, finding the rhythm I want. His groans turn ragged, fingers curling into the sheets. My hand strokes what I can’t fit, working him with a hunger I didn’t expect to feel until he first touched me, when I was a virgin who didn’t know any better.

With him, it feels natural, like we were made for this.

He groans, giving all the power to me, all the control.

I crawl back up his body, letting my breasts brush across his chest, and kiss him deeply.

“Evie,” he pants, voice rough and needy. “If you don’t sit on me right now, I’m going to beg.”

I laugh in delight. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

He bucks his hips. My SEAL. My mafioso. My billionaire. My man. “Please.”

I guide him to my entrance, wet and aching and so ready for him. I lower myself inch by inch, feeling him stretch me open. My breath catches, shallow and sharp. His head hits the pillow with a curse.

“Fuck. You feel like heaven.”

I roll my hips slow and deep until I’m fully seated. His hands tremble on the bed, resisting the urge to grab me. I ride him gently at first, savoring the fullness, the stretch, the slick heat building with every movement.

“You don’t have to hold back,” I whisper. “Not your words. Not your sounds.”

He groans loud and needy, hips twitching beneath me.

“I’ve never wanted anything like this,” he says hoarsely. “Never felt anything like this.”

“Me neither.”

I pick up the pace, grinding down harder, my clit catching deliciously against his pubic bone. He’s so deep inside me, it feels like he’s everywhere, like we’ve melted together into a single pulse of heat and hunger.

He lifts his head, eyes locked on mine, and I see the edge creeping up on him: the need to come, the battle not to.

“You close?” I whisper.

“Yeah. But I don’t want to finish until you fall apart for me.”

Fuck.How does he say things like that and make my whole body tremble?

“Then keep looking at me. Watch me fall apart.”

I ride him harder, faster, chasing the pressure building deep inside. My thighs shake, pleasure ripples through my core, and I reach between us, circling my clit with tight, frantic strokes.

He watches, panting and groaning, fists clenched, control slipping.

“I’m going to come,” I moan. “I want you to feel it. Feel me take you with me.”

“Yes–Evie–fuck…”

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