Page 66 of Tinder Embrace
Davis leaned in for another kiss, a hungry growl accompanying his pounce. I melted into the sheets, letting the sexy roar stroke every nerve ending like a phantom touch.
Davis bumped against my entrance, rotating his hips in a glide that dipped into my heat, spreading my wetness and easing his way. Slick and ready, I arched beneath him, caught on the edge between need and satisfaction, aching for completion. He gripped my hips, holding me steady, and probed deeper.
“More,” I commanded, thrusting my hips forward, hoping my encouragement would tip him over the edge.
On a guttural groan, he slid home, burying himself to the hilt, the deep thrust a welcome balm to my frustration.
“Yesss…” I hissed, digging my fingers into his hips, simultaneously wanting him to move and wanting him never to leave.
I felt full. Complete. Echoes from my earlier orgasm stirred as he picked out a punishing rhythm, thrusting into me with a recklessness that drove me wild.
Each stroke brought me closer to the edge, but it was nearly impossible to focus on my own orgasm, Davis was so beautifulabove me. His icy eyes warmed with a heat that made me think of glacial hot springs, so innocent on the surface, but hot enough to melt your skin beneath. His jaw taut, Davis seemed intent on drilling me into oblivion, every thrust designed to take me closer to the edge.
He pulled out, and I whimpered, bereft without the steady pressure of him inside me. His hard fingers urged me to flip, tugging my hips back and nudging my thighs open. Davis stroked his arms up over my shoulders, leaning forward until his body covered mine, our fingers entwined in the sheets above my head.
“I want to feel you like this,” he whispered against the delicate shell of my ear. “Open. Wet. Mine.”
He thrust forward, entering me again, the sound of skin on skin an erotic accompaniment to each stroke. Pinned beneath him, taking everything he gave, demanding more, I’d never felt more alive. More wanted.
I was half-aware that I expressed my appreciation at length, keeping up a steady stream of encouragement, but my words might as well have been in an alien language for all the sense I made. Davis seemed to understand that my almost wordless approval meant to keep going and increased his pace, bringing me to the brink. My thighs drew tight, every muscle aching as I reached for the precipice, eager to crash over it.
Davis traced kisses along my neck and over my back. He grabbed my hips, his fingers firm but gentle enough to avoid bruising. With the new leverage, he adjusted his angle, and my groan ended on a moan as he slid forward to the hilt, striking every sweet spot along the way, making stars bloom behind my lids.
Davis renewed his thrusting, a new urgency converting his slow strokes into staccato plunges. One large palm crossed my stomach, digging into the bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs, dragging the skin in slow circles that washed the world away in a rush of white light.
I shuddered out my release, Davis pounding toward his own a few moments later.
He collapsed against my back, gasping as he worked to catch his breath. His weight should have felt crushing, oppressive, but I was too boneless to care. In the aftermath of our lovemaking, I’d never felt so whole, so sexy, so me.
Davis slid to the side, pulling me into his arms, and gently pushed back a strand of hair from my face. Too wrecked to speak, I held up a palm. His throaty chuckle as we high-fived sent a fresh wave of need through me.
Davis Pruitt could be my beast anytime. I might not be able to speak tomorrow, let alone walk.
“That was pretty forking magical, Davis,” I whispered, my throat raw.
He dropped another kiss on my shoulder, hugging me tight. “Just so long as it was all rainbows and no unicorns.”
I sighed. “I might have to rethink my safe word, Davis. You’re a unicorn of a beast.”
“Thank you?” The uncertain way he said it made me chuckle.
“Definitely a compliment,” I reassured.
“Hm. Then I have a suggestion for our new safe word.”
“Oh yeah? What?”
“Meatloaf.”
The way he said it, so proud of himself, I paused, sure I was missing something. “Meatloaf?”
“Because I’d do anything for love . . .”
I chuckled, loving his deep baritone, finally getting the significance of his choice. “But I won’t dothat…” I sang softly.
Davis sighed next to me, the sound of his contentment triggering a yawn from me.
“Stay with me tonight?” he murmured, flipping the covers over us.
