Page 10 of Edge
“Fuck,” I snarled, every thrust savage. “You feel that, baby? Feel me deep? I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else. No man’s ever gonna touch this sweet pussy but me.”
I was gonna fill her to the brim. And if I didn’t knock her up this time, I’d fuck her over and over until I did.
She gasped my name, her legs locking around my waist as I pounded into her, the bedframe knocking the wall with every brutal drive. Her eyes went wide, then glassy, her body teetering right at the edge of another climax.
“Hold it.” My hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back just enough so I could see every flicker of surrender on her face. “You don’t come until I tell you.”
Her pussy clamped down, the muscles rippling, but she held back her orgasm. “So good, baby. Promise it will be worth it. Fuck, you’re so hot. Yes! Fuck! Mine!”
I grabbed her legs under her thighs and pushed them up so her knees were pressed to her chest, then shifted just enough to make sure my cock was rubbing her clit with every thrust. “Now!”
Callie’s moans broke higher, then turned to screams, her body arching and shuddering. I fucked her through it, losing myself in the raw, primal drive to own every sound, every shudder, every fucking breath.
Before the tremors even left her, I flipped us over and hauled her astride my hips. She gasped, eyes wide, hands scrambling at my chest as I shoved her down onto my cock again, her slick heat swallowing me whole.
“Ride me, baby.” My palms clamped around her hips, dragging her up and down. “Bounce that tight little pussy on me.”
Her hair flew wild around her face, sweat gleaming gold in the low light. She moved like she couldn’t stop, every downward slam making me grunt. My hands slid higher, filling with her tits and kneading hard until she cried out. I pinched her nipples between callused fingers, tugged, and rolled until she broke into desperate little whimpers.
“Yeah, fuck yes—look at you,” I rasped, dragging my gaze over her flushed face, her parted lips, the way she was breaking open for me. “My pretty girl. Just like that. Fall apart on my cock. Fuck!”
Her body clamped, her cries spilling free, and I felt her spasm around me, wet and pulsing. Her orgasm tore through her while I forced her hips to keep grinding.
“Good girl,” I praised darkly, my voice thick with possession. “Come for me.”
I rolled her under again, pinning her with my weight, taking back control. Her body trembled under mine, still spasming, but I wasn’t done. I braced a hand by her head, the other gripping her thigh, and pounded in deep, brutal thrusts, driving her higher.
Her final climax built like a live wire—her back bowing, nails scoring my shoulders, every muscle strung tight. Her breath shattered into broken gasps, eyes wide and pleading.
“Milk my cock, baby.” I rutted harder. “Make me come with you. Fuck, yes. Let go. Give it to me.”
Her scream tore the room apart, my name ripped from her throat raw and loud. That sound dragged me over the edge, white-hot, my body locking deep inside her. Muscles clenched, a guttural groan wrenched out of me—her name on my tongue like a vow—as I spilled into her, grinding one last time to bury every ounce inside.
“Take every fucking drop,” I snarled as I poured out my seed into her womb.
The world narrowed to heat, to her, to the fire snapping through both of us as we came apart together, tangled and ruined in the best fucking way.
4
CALLIE
Iwoke up to an unfamiliar woodsy scent, laced with leather, clinging to my sheets. My body ached in places I didn’t know were possible, every muscle humming with the reminder of what had happened last night.
Of who had wrecked me in the very best way. Over and over again.
I stretched cautiously, heat crawling up my neck as flashes came back—Tatum’s rough hands on my skin, the way his mouth had marked me, his voice dark and wicked when he’d told me I was his. I should’ve been shocked by how easily I’d let him have me, how fast I’d let him claim my virginity. Instead, I found myself turning onto my side, eyes drawn to the man stretched out beside me.
Tatum slept like he owned the bed, even though it was mine. He was sprawled on his back, one arm flung carelessly over the pillow. My favorite, but I hadn’t needed it last night because I’d been cradled against his chest while I slept.
The morning light cut across his tanned skin, highlighting the speedometer tattoo on his right pec and the ridges of muscle that seemed sculpted from stone. His beard shadowed thestrong lines of his jaw, and his lips curved faintly, like even in sleep he was still satisfied by what had happened between us.
His other arm was under my neck, my cheek resting against his bicep while I stared at him. I carefully pulled the sheet higher over myself, fighting the urge to trace the black lines of the motorcycle helmet and checkered flags inked on his left hip.
My stomach growled, and I winced over how loud it sounded in the silence of my small apartment.
Tatum’s eyes popped open, instantly alert and pinned on me like he hadn’t been asleep at all. “Hungry?”
Heat flooded my cheeks as I thought about how we’d burned off the simple dinner of grilled cheese and tomato soup that we had shared in the middle of the night. Our quiet conversation in the dark had quickly turned into heated passion once we were done. “I, um—yeah. I could do breakfast.”
