"What do you think? I never leave business unfinished." His hand slides between my legs, his fingers finding the dampness there, stroking, teasing. My hips instinctively buck back against his hand, seeking more.
"Not like that," I murmur, turning in his arms until I’m facing him, our bodies still tangled, legs intertwined. The faint light from the city paints his face in shadows, highlighting thesharp angles of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes. He’s still half-asleep, but the desire is blazing in his gaze, raw and untamed.
He frowns, a hint of confusion in his eyes. "What do you mean, not like that?"
My hand reaches out, my fingers tracing the hard line of his jaw, then sliding down his neck, over his broad shoulders, until they rest on his chest, right over his heart. I can feel the powerful beat beneath my palm. "I mean, it’s my turn to make the rules tonight."
His eyes narrow. "Oh, is it now?"
"Yes, it is." My fingers slide lower, over his flat stomach, then down, finding his hard shaft. I wrap my hand around him, feeling the heat, the throbbing pulse. He groans, a deep, involuntary sound, and his hips lift slightly, pressing into my touch. "You liked being in control, didn’t you? You liked making me moan your name."
"Every goddamn second of it."
"Good," I murmur. "Because now it’s my turn. And you’re going to like this even more."
I shift, pushing myself up, straddling his hips. He watches me, his eyes following every movement, a mixture of surprise and intense arousal on his face. The silk sheets rustle beneath us as I settle myself over him, my knees on either side of his hips. I feel the heat of him, the hard length of him pressing against my clit.
I lean down, my hands bracing on his chest, my lips hovering just inches from his. I lower myself slowly, deliberately, guiding his thick shaft to my entrance. The tip presses against me, hot and ready. I take a deep breath, savoring the moment, the exquisite tension. I look into his eyes, watching the raw desire there, the barely contained impatience. He’s trying to hold still, trying to let me lead, but his hips are already twitching, wanting to surge up into me.
"Easy,Mafiabae," I tease, a soft laugh escaping me. "I’m making the rules now."
Then, with a slow, agonizing slide, I lower myself onto him.
He groans, a deep, shuddering sound, as I take him in, inch by agonizing inch. He’s so big, so full, stretching me, filling me completely. My muscles clench around him, milking every last bit of sensation. I close my eyes for a moment, letting the pleasure wash over me, a wave of pure, unadulterated sensation.
When I open them, his eyes are squeezed shut, his jaw clenched, a vein throbbing in his neck. He’s fighting for control, fighting the urge to take over, to thrust up into me. And that just makes me want to push him further.
I start to move, a slow, sensual grind, my hips circling, rotating, finding the perfect angle, the perfect pressure. I can feel him swell inside me, growing harder, thicker. His hands come up, gripping my hips, not pushing, not pulling, just holding me, anchoring me.
"Fuck," he rasps, his voice strained. "Nikki… you’re goddamn killing me."
"Am I?" I whisper, leaning down, my lips brushing his. "You deserve it."
I lean back, my hands now on his chest, pushing myself up slightly, then letting myself fall back down, riding him, feeling him sink deeper into me with each deliberate descent. I watch his face, his eyes glazed with pleasure, his lips parted, gasping for air. He’s losing it. He’s completely at my mercy.
I pick up the pace, my movements becoming more fluid, more urgent. My hips pump, driving him deeper, faster. The friction is incredible, building with every thrust. I sense the knot of pleasure tightening inside me, coiling tighter and tighter.
His hands leave my hips, reaching up, gripping my ass, pulling me down harder onto him. He’s no longer fighting, nolonger trying to hold back. He’s completely surrendered, letting me set the pace, letting me take him.
"Faster," he growls, his voice raw with need. "Fuck me hard and fast."
That’s all the encouragement I need. I lean forward, my hair falling around us like a dark curtain, my breasts brushing his chest. I ride him with a desperate hunger, my body arching, my hips bucking. Each thrust sends a jolt of pure pleasure through me, radiating outwards.
I can feel the climax building, a powerful wave rising within me, threatening to consume me. My muscles clench around him, milking every last drop of sensation. I let out a cry, a raw, primal sound, as the first tremors hit.
"Oh, God," I gasp, my voice breaking. "Rafe… I’m coming!"
My body convulses around him, a series of powerful contractions, squeezing him, taking everything he has. I cry out again, my head falling back, my back arching. I feel him surge inside me, a final, powerful thrust, and then he groans, a deep, guttural sound, his body shuddering beneath mine as he empties himself into me.
I collapse onto his chest, my breath ragged, my body trembling. He wraps his arms around me, holding me tight, pressing me against his sweat-slicked skin. His heart hammers beneath my ear, a frantic drumbeat that slowly begins to calm.
We lie there for a long time, tangled together, the silence of the room punctuated only by our ragged breaths. The city lights still twinkle outside, indifferent to the storm we just weathered.
He shifts slightly, his hand coming up to stroke my hair, gently pushing it back from my face. I lift my head, looking at him. His eyes are still heavy-lidded, but there’s a new softness in them, a vulnerability I haven’t seen before.
"What am I going to do with you?" he murmurs.
I smile, a triumphant, satisfied smile. "I told you. I told you I’m the one thing you can’t control."
