Page 51 of That Moment
“Remember what you asked for,” I tell her quietly, eyes on hers. “Remember how hard you worked to make me snap.”
Her smile tilts, half-wild. “I do.”
“Good.” I hold her there one beat longer so she feels it, my weight, my intent, then I let go to stand and strip off my shirt.
She watches me. I don’t tease about it. I don’t hide the way my hands shake a little with the need that’s been chewing on me for years. Boots first, thudding to the rug. Belt next, the clink echoing in the sudden quiet. My jeans follow, and her breath turns ragged in a way that detonates every last shred of my patience.
Her eyes go wide when I shove my briefs down and free myself. She makes a sound, a shocked gasp, and then looks at me with actual fear in her eyes.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice tight. “I’ve got a big cock and you’re gonna have to take it.”
“I—you’re huge.” She burst into nervous laughter, clamping her hand over her mouth.
“You knew what you were doing all this time.” I wrap a hand around myself and stroke once, slow, because I need to slow down or I’m going to lose my mind. “This huge cock is what you were playing with. You wanted me to break and give you all of it, remember? You wanted to find out what happens when I stop being polite.”
Her knees fall open a little more. She’s not subtle. She never has been. “I can take it,” she whispers. “I enjoy a challenge.”
I drag my gaze over her, her hair a mess from my hands, her lips bruised, and I swear under my breath. I palm myself again, slower this time, and watch her throat work around a swallow.
“It’s going to hurt,” I say, forcing myself to put the warning in the air because I know it will, not out of arrogance. “I’ll go slow. You tell me if anything’s wrong, and I stop. No questions. Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl.”
I climb back over her, one knee sinking into the cushion, both hands bracketing her head again like I can cage us in thismoment and keep it. She reaches for me, but I catch her wrists and pin them above her head again, lacing our fingers. The power of that simple hold hammers through me—control, yes, but only because she gives it. The only way I ever want it.
“You taste like you were made for me,” I murmur, as I trail my mouth along her jaw. “Sweet. Delicious. Better than anything I’ve ever had.” I kiss the corner of her mouth, then deeper, stealing her breath. “I’ve wanted this so damn long, Adrienne. Longer than I should’ve.”
Her body arches, seeking me. “Then take it,” she whispers against my lips. “Take me.”
I groan because there’s only so much a man can take. My palm slides down the length of her, over the warm curve of her waist, the flutter of her ribs, the soft skin above the edge of her dress. I push the hem higher and higher, and she lifts her hips to help me, a silent yes that lights me up from the inside. I strip the dress the rest of the way, tossing it aside, and for a second, I just stare. I’ve seen her a thousand different ways over a thousand different days, but I’ve never seen her exposed. Not like this. All of her. Mine tonight.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Adrienne.” It comes out almost like a plea. She’s always been miles out of my league, but this just confirms it. “God damn,” I run both my hands over her ups to her waist, continuing to cup her full tits. “You’re literally a fucking fantasy.”
She blinks like she’s surprised, but a second later, she smiles, her gaze softening again. “Say it again.”
“You’re beautiful,” I repeat, dragging my lips over hers. “And tonight, you’re mine.”
Her breath stutters. I kiss her again, softer than I need, and shift my hips, fitting my body to hers. The first brush of heat against heat makes both of us gasp.
I line myself up to her opening, sliding the tip of my cock up and down, coating it with her wetness, then pause to look at her. “Eyes on me.”
They find me immediately.
“That’s it.” My mouth skims her cheek. “I’m right here. Breathe.”
I press forward slowly.
Go slow. Don’t lose control.
It’s a practice in the kind of patience a man learns when he’s wanted something for years and would rather die than mess it up now. She tightens, a surprised sound breaking loose, and I still, kissing her, murmuring into her mouth, letting her get used to me. Her fingers squeeze mine where I’m pinning her wrists, not to stop me, just to anchor.
“Talk to me,” I say, our foreheads touching.
“It’s… a lot,” she breathes, and somehow she’s laughing a little, her breath shaky. “But I want it. I want you.” I press against her further, and she winces, so I pause, but this time she lifts her hips, attempting to pull me back inside her.
“Oh!” She winces.
