Page 37 of Penalty Kiss
“So we do it my way. Slowly because I want you to feel every inch of me sliding into you without hurting you.”
He presses forward, deliberate, and the stretch is overwhelming, his control terrifyingly hot. My palms flatten against the wall, my breasts dragging across the cool surface as he eases in, grinding his hips until I’m gasping.
“See?” he murmurs, voice all grit and obsession. “You take me better like this. You’ll learn to love it. And when you do—” his teeth graze my neck, “—I’ll give it to you harder.”
OMG, this man can talk dirty.
The new angle is everything. He’s deeper, thicker, every slow plunge hitting a spot I didn’t even know existed. Watching porn never prepared me for this — the sharp stretch, the raw pressure, the way pleasure sears so hot my knees nearly buckle.
A low moan tears out of me, then another, building into desperate grunts I can’t hold back. My palms press harder into the wall, my cheek brushing the cool surface as I push against it, instinctively tipping my hips higher, offering more.
“Cam…” I pant, wiggling down onto him, my ass arching back, shameless now. “More. Please, I need—”
He growls, bending over me, his chest slick against my back. His hands swing around, grabbing my breasts where they hang heavy and perfect, spilling over his palms.
“Sweetheart,” he rasps, thrusting deep, “these tits are beautiful. Overflowing my hands…so big, so soft, I can barely hold all of you.” He groans, grinding harder, his fingers digging in. “Been fantasizing about them since the first night I saw you. Watching them bounce, wondering if I’d get to own them one day. They’re mine now—every inch of you is.”
I scream internally. Here I am obsessing over my clumsy, porn-inspired move, and he counters by talking like he wrote the script. And yeah, I want to hear every single line.
He squeezes, thumbs circling over my nipples, tugging until I moan. Each sharp thrust makes my breasts jolt against his hands, the weight of them dragging and tugging with every stroke. The filth of his words, the worship in his voice, the way his cock drives into me all at once has me whimpering like I’ve lost control of my own body.
“Cam!” My voice cracks, high and raw, as another thrust slams pleasure straight through me.
“That’s it,” he urges, voice dark and reverent in my ear. “Ride me, baby. Show me how much you can take.” His hips grind harder, deeper, until I’m trembling, my body clenching tight around him.
The pressure builds sharp, unbearable, my own moans turning frantic as my thighs quake. I shove back against him, matching his rhythm, my cries of “More!” echoing off the kitchen walls. His pace falters, stutters, his breath harsh in my ear.
“Tara—” he groans, his thrusts unrelenting. “I’ll give you everything. I’ll give you so much you won’t remember your own name. Just mine.”
Heat bursts low in my belly, racing up my spine until I’m shuddering. The orgasm rips through me, violent and blinding, my entire body clamping around him as I scream his name.
Cam’s answering roar is a guttural vibration against my skin as he drives deep, spilling into me, his hands crushing my breasts while his body locks tight against mine.
We collapse into the wall together, breathless, shaking, every nerve scorched and alive. His forehead presses to my shoulder, his lips dragging against damp skin.
And somewhere in the haze, my brain blurts one last ridiculous thought:I think I actually owe porn an apology—because real lifeis so much better.
“Guess that’s me now,” he mutters between ragged breaths, still pulsing deep inside me. “Your shiny knight in sweaty, non-existent armor. And a complete sex fiend when it comes to you.”
Despite everything—the danger, the secrets, the heat still pulsing through me—I laugh, the sound shaky and stunned. Because he’s right.
He’s every contradiction, every impossible thing I shouldn’t want. And yet here he is, holding me up, making me feel safer than I ever have. For the first time, I wonder what it would feel like to stop running—and let someone catch me.
Chapter 7
Locker Rules
Cam
The first thing I notice when consciousness kicks in is that I'm alone.
Not just alone in bed—alone in a way that feels deliberate. Like someone made a tactical retreat while I was unconscious and defenseless.
The second thing I notice is that I'm sore in all the best places. My back aches from holding Tara against that kitchen wall. My shoulders burn from lifting her like she weighed nothing. And my cock? Still half-hard and entirely smug about the fact that I just gave a virgin the ride of her life.
The third thing I notice is the sound of running water from the bathroom, which means Tara's in the shower. Without me.
Mistake number one, sweetheart.
