Page 92 of Overtake
We stumble toward the bed, lips still locked, hands moving from clothes to skin and back again. His shirt hits the floor, and I pause to appreciate what twice daily training creates. When I trace his abs, his muscles jump under my touch.
“Fuck, Petra.”
“That’s the idea.”
His laugh turns to a groan as I palm him through his jeans. “You’re going to kill me.”
“Only the little death.”
His mouth finds mine again, as he drags my tank top up over my head and throws it somewhere. When he cups my breasts, thumbs brushing my nipples, it’s my turn to curse.
“You like that?” His tone is making wicked promises. “Want to know what else I’ve been thinking about?”
“Show me.”
He does. With hands and mouth and precision, he shows me exactly what he’s been imagining. By the time he slides down my body, skating kisses across my stomach, over my pelvis, and down to my inner thighs, I’m already embarrassingly wet.
“God, look at you.” His breath ghosts over my skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Petra Lison Meris Hayter.”
Then his tongue finds my clit, and any coherent reply I had skids right off track.
His mouth is as talented as I’d imagined—and I’d imagined plenty last night. He works me with the same focus he brings to racing, reading my reactions, chasing my orgasm. When he slides two fingers inside me while sucking my clit, my hips buck off the bed.
“That’s it.” He gazes at me over the swell of my breasts. “I want to see you come apart.”
The orgasm builds like qualifying lap adrenaline. His fingers curl, finding a perfect spot while his tongue maintains steady pressure, and I?—
“Nico!”
He works me, not letting up until I crash through that barrier and skid to a halt, trembling like a live wire and higher than a kite. When he raises his head and crawls up my body, his smirk should be illegal.
“My turn?” I manage once I can form words.
“Please.”
I flip us, straddling his hips. His erection strains against his jeans, and I waste no time getting him naked. When I wrap my hand around his cock, his breath hisses through his teeth. He’s not too big and not too small. This man was built just right for me.
“Nico Belmonte, tell me you brought a johnny.”
He drags his discarded jeans across the bed and produces a strip of condoms from a pocket.
I raise an eyebrow. “Optimistic?”
“Hopeful.” His hands settle on my hips as I tear one off, open the package, and roll the condom onto his cock. “Very, very hopeful.”
I sink down onto him slowly, savoring the stretch, the fullness of having him inside me. His fingers tighten on my hips, muscles straining with the effort to stay still.
“Joder,” he breathes. “Te sientes perfecta para mí.”
“You too.” I roll my hips and love seeing his head arch back, his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.
I start moving, finding a rhythm that has us both breathing harder. His grip on my hips guides me, but he lets me set the pace and gives over control. I fucking love taking the wheel.
"Faster?" he asks, voice rough.
"Not yet." I lean forward, bracing my hands on his chest, changing the angle. The shift has him hitting a spot that makes my breath catch.
"Mierda,Petra." His thumbs dig into my hip bones. "You're going to kill me."
