Page 40 of Babies for the Big Shot
Then his belt.
Then his pants.
And ohdamn.
He’s big. Hard. Thick and flushed, and already dripping at the tip. My mouth actually waters.
“You’re staring,” he says, voice as dark as honey and smoke.
“You’re perfect,” I whisper, dazed.
He strokes himself once, slow and rough, eyes never leaving mine. “So are you.”
Then he reaches into the pocket of his coat on the floor, pulling out a small foil packet. His gaze flicks to mine as he tears it open with his teeth… deliberate, filthy, and utterly in control.
Then he’s crawling over me again, braced on his forearms, the heat of his body pressing into mine, his mouth tilts over mine in a kiss that burns with sin and sweetness, edged with something dangerously close to devotion. He’s already hard and hot against my inner thigh, and I shift, trying to get him where I need him.
But he doesn’t give in.
Not yet.
He bites my bottom lip and pulls back just far enough to look at me. His voice drops.
“Do you want me to go slow,” he rasps, “or do you want it the way I’ve been imagining since the second I saw you again?”
I’m panting. My wrists are free but I don’t move them. I don’twantto move them.
“I want you,” I whisper. “The way you want me.”
His jaw flexes, barely leashed restraint.
“Be sure, Sara.”
“Nick,” I whisper, wrapping my legs around his hips. “Ruin me.”
His breath hisses between his teeth as if that broke him.
Then he’s pushing into me in one deep, hard thrust.
I cry out, back arching, hands fisting in the sheets, vision blacking out for a second from how full I feel. He doesn’t move. Just stays there, buried inside me to the hilt, breathing like he just ran a goddamn marathon.
“Fuck,” he growls against my neck. “You’re so tight. You feel like heaven. Like you were made for me.”
My nails dig into his back as I writhe beneath him. “Then move, Ashford. Take what’s yours.”
That does it.
He starts to thrust. Hard, deep, relentless. Each stroke knocks the breath from my lungs, presses filthy little sounds out of me I didn’t know I could make. He shifts my legs higher on his waist and grinds, hitting that spot that makes me gasp. I might as well be drowning.
The headboard starts to thud against the wall. The sheets twist around us. I’m soaked and shaking and everything istoo muchand notenoughand…
“Touch yourself,” he pants. “I want to watch you come again.”
I reach between us with trembling fingers, rubbing tight circles over my clit as he pounds into me, watching his favorite fucking movie.
“Good girl,” he groans. “Just like that. Let me see you fall apart for me.”
It’s not long. I spiral fast, hips jerking, toes curling, mouth open in a silent scream as another orgasm crashes through me hard as a freight train. I shatter, legs clamping around him, back arching off the mattress, and he loses it.
