Page 163 of Desperate Crimes
She sinks slow.
Hot.Tight.Perfect.
I nearly black out from how good she feels.
“Goddamn, baby,” I groan, biting down on her neck.“You kill me.”
She cries out, her hips grinding, her nails digging into my skin.
And I let her ride me slow, holding her in place, letting her set the pace even though all I want is to flip her over and wreck her.
But I won’t.Not tonight.
Tonight, I let her claim me.
I need her to mark me.
With her body.
With her voice.
With her tears.
With her love.
Her sweet, unconditional, only for me love.
Because I’m hers.
I’ve always been hers.
From the first moment she looked at me with those wide, dark eyes that saw everything and still didn’t flinch.
Her hands tremble on my chest, but there’s no hesitation in her as she rides me like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do.
As if reclaiming me—body and soul—is as sacred to her as it is to me.
It is.I fucking know it is.
“I was so scared I wouldn’t find you,” she whispers, voice choked, eyes shining in the moonlight spilling through our bedroom windows.“That you were gone from me.”
“I was coming back to you,” I growl, voice raw with everything I feel, everything I am.“And no one will ever take me from you again.I swear it on my soul, Leanna.On every dark, damned part of me.”
She gasps when I grip her hips, lift her, and bring her crashing back down on my cock.
Hard.Deep.
Home.
Her pussy strangles me like it’s desperate to keep me locked inside forever.
And God help me, maybe that’s exactly what I want.
That’s when I finally understand the depth of my desperation for her.
Because this raw slide of skin on skin?
No barrier.
