Page 76 of Playing for the Hat Trick
She nods. Breathless. Eyes glassy. “More than.”
I pull back, thrust forward again—slow enough to feel every inch, every reaction, every tremble in her legs.
“You feel—” I press my lips to her throat, hips rolling into her, smooth and deep. “Like sin.”
Her laugh turns into a moan. “Ruin me, Jason.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” I groan, picking up the pace. “You have no idea.”
“I could live here,” I breathe, voice cracking as her body clenches around me again. “Inside you. Every day. Wake up hard and fuck you before breakfast.”
She gasps, pupils blown wide.
“You like that?” I whisper, dragging my mouth over her jaw. “Like the idea of being full of me every morning?”
She groans—needy and wrecked—and that’s when she flips me.
I don’t see it coming.
One second, I’m deep inside her, worshipping her body like a man with a holy calling. The next, I’m flat on my back, and she’s straddling me, hair wild, eyes electric, mouth curved in a smug, sinful grin.
My cock twitches inside her, and she moans as she sinks all the way down again, slow and greedy.
“Fuck,” I gasp, palms flying to her hips. “Okay. Yeah. Take what you want, baby.”
She rolls her hips in a slow, maddening circle, grinding down on me like she’s trying to memorize every vein, every twitch.
“I am,” she says, breathless and wicked. “And you’re going to watch me do it.”
And I do.
Oh, I fucking do.
Her hands brace on my chest, nails digging in just enough to sting as she rides me. The pace is torture—deep, slow grinds, her core clenching around me like velvet and sin. Every time I try to thrust up, she plants her weight down harder, pinning me.
“Not yet,” she whispers, leaning down to kiss my jaw. “You stay right there. Be good.”
I groan. I whimper. I—fuck it—I beg.
“Please, baby—please let me come.”
She grins, then drags her lips along my ear. “Not until I say.”
Praise kink? Check.
Power shift? Check.
Me? Ruined.
She’s still riding me—slow, deep, grinding like she’s trying to melt us into the sheets. My hands grip her hips, fingers bruising, but she’s in control now. Every roll of her hips sends lightning through my spine, and I swear to God, I’ve never been this close for this long.
And she knows it.
Her head drops back, eyes fluttering shut, mouth open on a gasp as she chases her own high on top of me.
I watch her. Spellbound. Feral. Wrecked.
Then my voice—low and fucked-out—grates out, “Touch your tits for me.”
