“C’mon, Shortcake.” My teeth graze the shell of her ear, her pulse wild where my other hand still brackets her throat. Her hips jerk, chasing the rhythm I’m building, sheets tightening beneath her fists. “Let me hear it.”
She fractures beautifully. A choked cry rips from her chest, back arching like a bowstring drawn too tight. I ease the pressure just enough to savor the tremors wracking her thighs. Her breath comes in jagged bursts. Her hand flies up to my head and her fingers scramble in my hair as she fists it in her hands.
“There she is,” I murmur against her temple, slowing my touch as she shudders. Pride burns through me sharper than any medal I’ve ever won. Olympic gold never tasted half as sweet as Charlie does when she's coming undone.
Her laugh turns breathless as she collapses against my chest again, fully sated. "Okay," she pants, releasing my hair and bringing her hands back down to our sides. "I need to admit something."
Her fingers drift up to brush the spot where my hand had cradled her throat moments ago.
"I didn't think I'd like the whole..." She mimics the pressure with her own hand, thumb pressing gently below her jawline. "Possessive neck-holding thing." A blush blooms across her cheeks even as she grins. "Turns out I was very, very wrong."
Heat coils low in my gut. I roll us sideways, propping myself up on one elbow to better watch her face. "Noted." My free hand skates down her side, reveling in the way her breath hitches. "Anything else you'd like to confess, Shortcake?"
She bites her lip—that fucking lip—before meeting my gaze head-on. "Just that you should probably—"
I cut her off with a kiss, swallowing her gasp as I flip her onto her stomach in one smooth motion. Her surprised laughter vibrates against the mattress as I settle behind her, knees bracketing her thighs.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm not done with you yet," I say, relishing the full-body shiver my statement elicits.
Her fingers clutch at the sheets as I drag her hips back against me. "Oh, really?" She breathes.
I nip at her shoulder. "I will never have my fill of you."
The condom wrapper I lean over and snag from the top of the night-stand tears louder than I intend. Charlie snorts. "Subtle."
"Subtlety's overrated." I sheathe myself with practiced efficiency, hands sliding down her sides to palm her breasts again. Her back arches into the touch, a wordless plea I'm all too happy to answer.
When I push into her, it's slow, agonizingly slow. Her choked moan reverberates through the room as she presses her forehead into the mattress. "Bash—"
I brace one hand beside her head, the other gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks.
The first thrust punches a gasp from both of us. Her fingers scramble for purchase, finally fisting in the pillow above her head. I set a relentless pace, each snap of my hips designed to chase that broken sound she makes when I hit just right.
Her hair sticks to her neck in damp tendrils. I brush it aside with my free hand, exposing the flushed skin beneath. My tongue finds her skin and I lick. Tasting. Claiming.
"Look at you," I rasp against her sweat-slick skin. "Fucking perfect."
She makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob. "Ego... stroking... later—"
I chuckle darkly, angling deeper. Her next words dissolve into a cry that I feel in my fucking throat. The headboard knocks a staccato rhythm against the wall, but all I care about is the way her muscles are clenching around me, the desperate pitch of her breathing.
"Come on," I urge. "Let me feel you."
She listens immediately and lifts her ass higher and pushes back into me further, accentuating the perfect curve of her back.
Her breath comes in broken gasps against the pillow. I withdraw nearly all the way, just to watch her chase the loss, before plunging back in slow, making every inch count. The way she opens for me, pressed back against me with her spine curved just right, sends a possessive thrill down to my bones.
I lean in, my mouth finding that sweet spot behind her ear that always makes her shiver. Teeth graze skin before soothing with my tongue, my voice roughened with want: "You feel so damn good, Shortcake. Taking me like this."
Her whimper is half-protest, her hands scrambling in between hers to grip my inner thighs. "Don’t—don’t tease me," she manages, words fractured.
"I'm not," I promise, though my next thrust is deliberately measured. "I just want to remember every second."
She makes an impatient noise low in her throat and shoves down against me, and fuck if that isn’t the sexiest thing. She's done with patience, taking what she wants. So, I give it to her. My rhythm fractures and becomes primal. My hips pistoning hard enough the mattress protests beneath us.
Feeling her seek her own pleasure, her fingers working between her legs while the other hand cups my balls—Christ. "Oh fuck," I choke out, "Charlie, I—"
