Page 60 of Collide
His lips graze my pulse point. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
I exhale shakily, gripping his bicep. “No, please, I want it,” I beg, hungry for him, starved for years. “Touch me.”
His breath catches for a second. Then, without another word, his hand brushes my panties to the side as he slides lower, pressing against me.
A sharp, helpless gasp escapes my lips as his fingers spread me.
Oh.
My body reacts instantly, heat pooling, nerves short-circuiting, as he strokes my clit with slow, devastating precision.
Alex’s mouth curves against my skin. “So wet.” His voice is pure sin, his fingers exploring, testing. “Is that all for me, Darling?”
“Yes,” I pant.
“Good girl,” he growls.
My entire body betrays me—hips jerking as his fingers circle right where I need him most.
I let out a soft whimper, my fingers clawing at his bicep. “Alex?—”
He hums in satisfaction, his teeth scraping lightly along my throat, nipping just enough to make me shudder.
“Relax,” he murmurs, his free hand slides beneath my shirt, lifting it and placing his lips on my bare nipple.
My back arches, the sensation threatening to overwhelm every fiber of my being.
His fingers glide with maddening precision, stoking the heat building inside me. Each pass is a spark, a wave—jolting me back to life.
Alex’s mouth finds my breasts, his tongue tracing my nipples, lips worshipping them into stiff peaks.
A new kind of pressure builds, something foreign, something I can’t quite chase on my own.
I squirm, my breathing fractured and uneven.
Alex knows.
He can feel it.
“Give it to me,” he whispers against my skin—his voice low, coaxing, drenched in dark promise.
His fingers press a little deeper, moving in perfect rhythm, tuned into my every reaction, every shaky breath, every desperate whimper.
I feel like I’m going to break apart.
My body is winding tighter, hotter, sharper, something tantalizingly close, but just out of reach.
Alex senses it immediately, his pace shifting slightly—his fingers relentless and determined, mouth devouring my breasts with greedy focus.
“Elena,” he groans, almost like he’s the one unravelling.
And then?—
The pressure snaps.
A shattered, breathless cry spills from my lips as pleasure slams into me, hot and all-consuming, spreading through me like wildfire.
My back arches, fingers digging into his shoulders, waves of pure ecstasy crashing over me as he coaxes me through every last tremor and aftershock of my orgasm.
