Page 57 of Carrick
Over and over, my hips snapping into her with the kind of rhythm that spoke of obsession. Not just pleasure—possession.
Every thrust dragged a different sound from her lips—whimpers, gasps, broken sobs of need. Her walls gripped me like she never wanted to let go, slick and tight and so damn perfect I nearly lost it on the first stroke.
“More,” she begged. “Don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop.”
Her fingers clawed into my hair, down my back, leaving scratch marks that burned in the best way.
I growled, one arm bracing her thigh higher so I could drive deeper. Each thrust hit harder than the last, the sound of our bodies colliding mixing with the staccato breaths and choked curses between us.
She was losing herself.
And I was right there with her.
“Look at me,” I said, voice rasped raw.
Her eyes fluttered open, wild and wet.
“You feel this?” I asked, slamming into her again. “You feel how right this is?”
She nodded, moaning. “Yes—yes, I feel it—I feelyou?—”
And then she shattered.
Her body locked around me, back arching so hard her head hit the wall again. She bit down on my shoulder, stifling the scream, but I felt it in every inch of her—the way her pussy pulsed around me, the way her fingers gripped like she was drowning.
And that was it. I let go.
Release ripped through me like an earthquake—violent, primal, unstoppable. My hips stuttered, muscles seizing asI spilled into her, forehead pressed to hers, every part of me focused on the place where we were connected. Fused. Ruined. Rebuilt.
We stayed like that, bodies slowly coming down from the high. Still. Silent. Just the wet rasp of breath between us. Her cheek pressed to mine, uncaring of the sweat. My hand cradled her jaw like it was precious. When I kissed her temple, the thrum of her pulse against my lips felt like the heartbeat of creation itself.
She didn’t move. Neither did I.
I didn’t want to leave her body. Didn’t want to leave her.
But more than that—I didn’t want this to be just a fuck.
And it wasn’t.
Her breath was still hitching softly against my neck, hands loose butthere, not clinging—but not ready to let go. Her heartbeat was still wild against my chest. We were both drenched in sweat, clothes half-off, completely wrecked and still, somehow, whole.
I stayed inside her a little longer. Just holding. Grounding. Not because I had to, but because I needed to. This wasn’t a scene. Wasn’t just release. It was something deeper—something that scared the shit out of me. Something that tasted likemore.
Finally, I eased out, slow and careful, both of us hissing at the overstimulated drag. Her legs slid down my sides, feet finding the floor like she was relearning how to stand. She leaned into the wall, breath unsteady, hair damp with sweat, lips swollen and parted. Wrecked. Satisfied. A little stunned.
But not afraid. Not running.
And I didn’t know what wrecked me more—that she’d let me have her like that, or that she was still here after. Steady. Solid.Mine.
I reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. Her eyes lifted slowly to mine, lashes still heavy.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” she whispered.
I gave her a crooked smile. “You wore the overalls.”
She let out a laugh—short, breathless, real. And something cracked open in my chest.
“You okay?” I asked.
