Page 112 of Penalty Kiss
The heat, the wet suction, steals my breath. I hold still for a moment, buried deep, feeling her body adjust to mine, the tremors running through her as she clenches around me. Sweatbeads on my brow, my muscles trembling with the effort to hold back.
I draw back slowly, almost completely out, savoring the drag of her silken heat along my entire shaft. Then I drive back in, hard and deep, hitting that spot deep inside her that makes her eyes roll back.
Her scream rips through the kitchen, bouncing off tile and fresh paint, and I grin like a predator.
“That’s it,” I growl against her ear, pulling back and driving in again, harder this time, until the counter groans under us. “That noise? That’s mine. Every filthy sound you make belongs to me.”
I keep her pinned, my palms clamped over her thighs, forcing them wide while I piston into her. The wet slap of skin on skin fills the air, obscene, punctuated by her choked cries. She arches, back bowing off the counter, and I slam her down flat, grinding deeper, claiming every inch.
I set a brutal rhythm, holding her pinned to the counter so every thrust drives deep, so she can feel every inch of me stretching her, filling her.
The slap of skin on skin, her wetness coating me, the low groans ripped from my chest—it’s primal, raw.
She claws at my shoulders, her nails scoring hot lines into my skin, but her eyes stay locked on mine—wild, glazed, worshipful.
I change my angle, tilting her hips higher, and when I drive in this time, she breaks with a sob, the sound shredded and sweet.
“There,” I snarl, thrusting again and again into that spot, relentless. “I’ve got you right where I want you. Tell me who’s inside you, Taralyn. Tell me who owns this sweet little body.”
“You,” she cries, voice wrecked and honest. “You, Cam. Only you.”
The words detonate in my chest, and I slam into her harder, my rhythm brutal now, chasing the release clawing at my spine. Her breasts bounce with every thrust, her mouth open, herhair tumbling loose from that messy bun, and she is chaos—my chaos.
“Take it,” I command, my voice breaking into a growl. “Take all of me.”
Her breasts bounce with each deep plunge, the peaks flushed and begging. I drop my head, sucking one into my mouth, biting down gently as I thrust, the dual sensation making her cry out again. “You feel like heaven,” I grind out, teeth clenched, sweat dripping down my temples. “Look at me, Taralyn. Eyes on me while I ruin you.”
Her gaze locks on mine, and I swear I see stars shatter in those blue depths.
Every powerful thrust wrings another cry from her lips. Her nails dig into my shoulders, drawing blood, the sting only fueling my frenzy.
She’s close, so close. I can feel it in the desperate clutch of her body, in the high-pitched whimpers escaping her swollen lips. Her painted cheek is flushed, her hair wild around her face. She’s a vision of complete surrender.
“Come on my cock,” I command in a low snarl. “Milk me. Now.”
Her orgasm tears through her, violent and beautiful. Her back arches violently off the counter, a scream ripped from her soul as her inner muscles clamp down on me in rhythmic, squeezing pulses.
The intensity of her clenching, the hot flood of her release soaking my cock, pushes me over the edge. Heat surges low in my spine, a blinding pressure building and then exploding.
I thrust deep and hold, grinding against her as I spill into her, thick pulses of release emptying everything I am inside her. A savage roar tears from my throat as I pump my seed deep, each spurt wringing another tremor from her spent body.
The pleasure is shattering, white-hot and all-consuming.
We collapse into a kiss, messy and desperate, our bodies still joined, our breaths ragged in the paint-scented air. Her arms wrap around my neck, holding me close as aftershocks ripplethrough her. I rest my forehead against hers, our sweat mingling, my heart hammering against my ribs like it’s trying to break free.
And then, with my heart hammering like I’m about to face overtime, I hear myself say it—raw, unplanned, undeniable:
“Marry me, Taralyn. Right here. Right now. I don’t want another second of my life without you.”
She freezes for a blink, paint on her cheek, tears shining at the edges of her lashes, and then her answer breaks out of her like a shout and a prayer and everything in between.
“YES!”
I laugh, a sound half-sob, half-wild triumph, and drag her closer until there’s no space between us at all—just heat, paint, and the promise we’ve made without ceremony, everything beginning here.
Chapter 20
Epilogue
