“Damn right.” My thumb skims her jaw, keeping her pinned under my gaze. “Because I know what you need.”
“Oh yeah? What is that?” she teases, tugging me closer. Her legs bump the edge of the bed, and she drops onto it, biting her lip in that maddening way. I step between her knees, heat pouring off her. “Are you going to give me what I need, Russo?”
“Mm.” I crouch and ease her onto her back. Goosebumps rise where her skin meets mine. Necessary. Inevitable. We’ve been building to this for years.
I take her mouth, slow and certain, setting the pace. We have a whole night ahead.
“You’re wearing too many layers, baby.” I drag my mouth from hers and reach for the waist of her jeans, plucking at the hem of her T-shirt. She lifts her arms, a silent yes, and I peel it away, leaving her in lace. One flick, and the clasp gives; I slide the bra off and send it to the floor.
“You’re gorgeous.” My eyes roam, greedy. Lips swollen, cheeks flushed, hair mussed from my hands. I trace the blush down her throat with my tongue and feel her shiver.
“Bossy,” she whispers, breath catching.
“Only until you forget your own name.”
My palms frame her ribs; I take one nipple into my mouth, then the other, savoring her. She arches, a broken sound slipping free. Her hands grip my neck while I feast on her, and every small noise turns the screw—those little mewls, the way her hips seek friction against me.
I trail kisses down her stomach, work the button on her jeans, and strip denim and lace past her hips. She kicks them away, bare and perfect on the crisp sheets.
Two fingers slide through her heat, and that helpless sound spills from her chest again. I keep a steady rhythm, hold her right there until her hands clutch my shoulders.
“Nate,” she begs, wrecked already. “Please.”
“I’m a goner for you, baby.” I lap at her sternum,then close my mouth over her other nipple. “Tell me what you need, Trouble.”
“Please, Nate. I want you inside me. It’s been too long.”
A satisfied curl hits my mouth. “You want your boyfriend’s cock?”
“Yes. Now.”
I strip fast, fist at the base to keep control. I want to feel that first stretch with my head clear, want to fill her and feel her squeeze around me.
She watches me, teeth on her bottom lip. “Come here.” She reaches, and I lean in, then roll us so she’s astride me. “Ride me.”
“You want me to do all the work, big guy? Are you tired from the game?” She teases, planting her knees and lining me up before she sinks down slow.
“Jesus,” I grit out, every muscle strung tight. Every instinct says grab her hips and drive up hard. But I hold the line. For now. “Do what you want with me.”
She takes more, a gorgeous, steady slide until she’s seated fully, chest heaving, eyes blown. We both stop there, breathing the same small, ragged air.
“Good girl,” I rasp. My hands bracket her hips without forcing the pace. “Show me how much you missed your man.”
She starts to move—slow grind, small lift, another deeper drop—and I feel her around me, hot and tight, greedy. I meet her with just enough thrust to keep her on that edge, my voice in her ear.
“That’s it. Use me. All of me.”
Her head tips back; a raw sound ripping out as she sets a rhythm that makes the bed frame protest. She rides harder, faster, and I let her, my hands guiding without taking over,until she’s shaking and swearing and I can feel her start to climb.
“Look at me when I fuck you,” I say.
Her gaze snaps down to mine.
“I feel so full,” she moans, lifting and lowering herself. I let her maintain the lead but am grunting at the restraint it takes me to not shoot my load too early.
“Fuck, baby.” I shudder as she finds a rhythm. “Ready for me to take over?”
“Ooh, you’re a lot, Nate. Like this, you’re so deep.” She groans. “You’re not making me do all the work tonight?”
