Page 45 of Target

“God, you feel so good, Kohen.”

“Then fucking move, Mads.” On his command, I move my hips.

I slide up and down his thick cock, letting the feeling of being filled wash over me. He is the biggest I have ever taken, and shit, it feels good to be this full.

Reaching back, I arch my back, resting my hands on his knees to rock my hips faster and bring us both what we want.

“Fuck, yeah,” he growls.

His hands slide from my thighs over my skirt, his palms spanning the whole of my lower back, holding me so that I do not fall off of him as I arch into the sensation of riding him.

“Fuck me, you’re looking like a fucking goddess, Madalyn.”

There is something erotic about the way we are fucking: His hands on me, the sounds of us panting, breathing heavy while both chasing an orgasm.

He leans forward still holding me, latching his mouth onto my nipple and I cry out. Lost in the sensation of his hot mouth sucking, nipping at my nipple.

Sitting up straight, my hands go to the back of his head, fingers sinking into his hair. He toys with my breasts, tugging, sucking, and biting, making me gasp and writhe around like a fucking mess.

“God, you are so fucking wet. Come for me, Mads.”

Pulling his head back he kisses me, his tongue delving into my mouth, muffling my moans of pleasure. Slipping his hands between us, Kohen’s thumb finds my clit, then he add pressure, igniting my orgasm.

“Kohen,” I whisper on a throaty moan.

“Oh, fuck, strangle my cock. Milk it, baby. Make it happen, baby. Shit.” He thrusts up into me, wave after wave of ecstasy rippling through me.

Then he is coming on a growl that comes from deep within him, making me shiver. I cling to him, my arms locked around his head, as we both come down from our high.

We are skin to skin, sweat covering us, while we catch our breaths. I flex my fingers; they are stiff from how hard I locked them together.

“Shit, I knew it would be good with you.” His voice is muffled from his face being smothered in my neck.

“Yeah,” is all I can say.

Words fail me as I catch my breath and all rational thoughts come flooding back. My face heats with embarrassment because I do not act like this. It is Darian who sleeps carefree with random men.

I am the straight-laced one who wants marriage and kids, the whole white picket fence fantasy.

Shit, what am I going to do?

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

TARGET

Sitting in my car, I am melting my ass off watching and waiting for a punk to leave his motel room.

This little shit thought it would be fun to steal from the club. We caught him on the club security cameras climbing the wall and tossing spare tires back over to his friends. Stupid fucking prick, we have top of the range cameras so none of that shitty pixilated stuff.

“Fuck, my ass is frying in this heat,” Savage whines like the little bitch he is.

“Suck it up, buttercup,” I say, my voice tight.

He looks at me, cocking a perfect fucking eyebrow.

“You alright over there, brother? You not getting any pussy or ass, so you are this pansy ass bitch mood?”

“Fuck off,” I mutter, looking back out the window.

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