Page 81 of No Turning Back
I roll my hips against hers, the friction making both of us gasp. She’s wet against me, slick and hot, and I nearly lose it right there. Her legs wrap around my waist, heels digging into my back, pulling me closer.
“Sam,” she breathes against my neck, voice tight with need. “Please.”
I trail kisses down her throat, her pulse racing beneath my lips. My hands cup her breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples until they tighten into peaks. When I take one into my mouth she cries out, her back arching.
Her nails scrape down my back, her fingers digging into my shoulders, pulling me closer. I can’t tell where I end and she begins anymore. The taste of her skin is addictive, salt and sweetness that makes me dizzy with want. I need more.
I slide a hand between us. She’s even wetter, slick against my touch. I stroke her slowly, watching her face as pleasure washes over it.
“Please,” she whispers, hips rising to meet my hand. “I need you inside me.”
Those words nearly undo me. I press the head of my cock against her entrance and push forward, inch by inch. Tight heat envelops me and I groan, fighting for control.
“God, Quinn. You feel incredible.”
Her legs tighten around my waist, pulling me deeper until I’m fully inside her. We freeze, panting, adjusting. She flutters around me and I swear I could come just from that.
“Quinn,” I whisper, my voice raw.
Her nails dig into my back as I start to move. Slow, deep thrusts that pull gasps from her throat.
“You feel so good,” she breathes, legs locking tighter.
I kiss along her jaw and neck, sucking gently at her skin. I want to mark her, to claim her. Each thrust builds the pressure between us, heat curling low in my spine. I slow down, grinding against her until she gasps my name. She pulls me up for a kiss that steals my breath.
“You’re holding back,” she whispers, voice challenging.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I admit.
She laughs, breathless. “You won’t.”
Then she rolls her hips, taking me deeper. My control shatters. I drop my forehead to her shoulder with a groan and drive harder. The headboard slams the wall.
Her cries aren’t pain. They’re pleasure, raw and unfiltered.
No more holding back. I grip her hips and take her the way I’ve wanted for years, my rhythm relentless.
“Fuck, Quinn,” I growl.
She meets me thrust for thrust, her nails raking down my back. I pin her wrists above her head, shift her thigh higher on my waist, and when I hit that spot inside her she screams.
“Don’t stop,” she gasps.
I kiss her hard, pounding into her until she shatters around me, her body clenching tight. I don’t stop. I flip her onto her stomach, fist tangled in her hair, arching her back. Her ass lifts, perfect for me.
“Okay?” I rasp against her ear.
“Yes,” she pants. “God, yes.”
I slam into her from behind, deeper this time. She claws the sheets, gasping.
“You’re mine,” I growl. “Say it.”
“I’m yours.”
The words ignite me. I drag her upright, her back against my chest as I drive into her, my hand rubbing her clit until she cries out again, trembling, coming apart in my arms. The feel of her clenching around me rips me open. I thrust hard, losing myself, spilling inside her with a groan that tears from my chest.
We collapse together, tangled, slick with sweat and heat. I press kisses along her shoulder blades, my breath still rough in her ear.
