Page 109 of Mr. Fixer Upper
“You said fast,” she accused.
“I have time for a pit stop,” he promised, dipping down between her legs. His tongue slicked between her folds, and Paige levered her hips up against his mouth.
“Gannon,” she hissed.
“Baby, if you only knew what hearing my name like that from your mouth did to me.” He licked her again, the rough texture of his tongue triggering the nerves in her clit to dance and contract.
“Show me,” she demanded.
He did just that, leading a frontal assault that left her quivering under him. He slid two fingers into her as his tongue worked her over. Paige gripped at his hair, and when she couldn’t get purchase, the floor.
“I need you to come for me right now because I can’t hold off being inside you, Paige.”
Her body and Gannon had a special relationship, one where he gave the orders and her body jumped to obey.
He used his tongue to lave her trembling nub, fingers driving into her and curling ever so slightly.
She cried out, every muscle tight as a bow as a climax, unexpectedly violent, ripped through her.
Gannon groaned against her as she came around his fingers. His hips pistoned against the floor as if priming himself for what came next. She’d barely stopped coming when he was pulling back just far enough to slide the condom over his purple-headed erection.
He wanted her as badly as she needed him. That gave her comfort as soul-shattering aftershocks continued to wrack her body.
Gannon settled himself between her thighs, and just the weight of his body, the position of his cock, sent her up again. She went from satiated to needy and desperate in less than a second.
She bucked against him, insisting with her body.
But he held her still, her face framed between those big palms.
“One thing,” he said, eyes boring into her. “We’re in a relationship.”
“Gannon!” She was aching for him. She needed him buried inside her. They didn’t have time to have a talk about expectations. She needed him tofillher.
“Say it, Paige. No misunderstandings this time.” He cheated, probing her greedy entrance with the rounded crown of his cock. She was already spasming with need. “Say it.”
“We’re in a relationship.” She whispered the words, and they were almost lost entirely when he drove into her.
He groaned in her ear as he muscled his way inside. She gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
“You okay?” He breathed the words in her ear, ragged and harsh.
She was stretched wide to accommodate him just on the safe side of her limits. “God, yes.” Her voice was strained and breathy, and her body tense with the decadent sliver of pain his invasion caused.
His dusting of chest hair teased her hardened nipples. Gannon’s tattooed arm took just enough of his weight off of her.
He wrapped her hair around his other fist and slowly, slowly eased out of her. She watched his eyes when he sank back into her and saw the fire there.
“Fuck. Honey, I can’t stop.”
“Don’t you dare stop.” Paige urged him on with her body. Jacking her hips up to meet his thrusts, she clung to his shoulders, nails digging in and scraping flesh. He pinned her with his body and his eyes. Those hazel orbs held her enthralled. She took and took as his hips slammed into her, the floor biting into her back, her ass. But he was inside her where she needed him the most, and nothing but the finish line mattered.
She saw the glaze come over his eyes. The sweat dotting his forehead and arms belayed his effort to hold back. There were no words now only the soft grunts that escaped Gannon’s throat, the cords of his neck standing out with the strain.
“Yes!” she begged. Paige hitched her legs up higher over his hips and felt her sex ripple around his shaft. “Gannon!”
He released her hair only to grip her breast, squeezing, plumping, and Paige flew over the edge at full speed. She felt herself close around him, and then he was driving into her, holding himself there, his feet digging into the floor so he could stay fully sheathed in her.
His shout of triumph as he came inside her ripped through the dim light. She quaked beneath him feeling him temper the power of his thrusts to match the waves of her own release. His pleasure echoing hers.
