“Sweet. Addictive. A taste I’d chase through every lifetime.”
I arch. “Oh, God…”
“That's it. Say it again.”
“Oh God,” I cry out, hips rolling into the air, but there’s nothing there. No friction. No contact. Only his words and the hot press of his breath.
“You’re dripping, Rorie,” he says, a groan rumbling from his chest. “I can see it. Bet you’d soak my fingers the second I slid them in.”
I reach for him again—wild, untethered—but he pushes my hand away with maddening ease.
“Still no,” he says. “Not until you come. My voice. Your mind. That’s all you get.”
I’m shaking now, legs trembling, moaning with every breath. “Please…”
“Come,” he demands, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Picture me inside you. Deep. Bare. Pushing you open. Whispering every filthy thing I want to do to you.”
“Oh fuck,” I gasp.
“I want to fuck you slow, Rorie. Until you scrape my back and tell me you can’t take it anymore. I want to keep going. Hold you still, make you feel every inch, every vein, every throb.”
“Nolan—” My voice breaks.
“Come, baby.”
“Yes—”
“Come. Right now.” He pumps himself. I know he’s just as close as me. “Let me hear it. Let mefeelit.”
And I do.
Without touch. Without pressure.
With only his voice in my ear and his words crawling under my skin.
My body crashes, spasms, heat rushing through me so fast I cry out, back bowing, hands fisting the sheets. I scream his name into the room like it’s the only word I’ve ever known.
And through it all, he holds me still. Kissing my throat. Whispering, “That’s my girl.”
His hands are on me, steady and sure, commanding without demand. There’s a power in the way he touches me, like I’m both wildfire and worship. And then he’s there, lowering himself between my thighs.
The broad heat of his body presses into mine, his chest flush against my breasts, his mouth brushing the hinge of my jaw. His cock nudges at my entrance, the blunt head dragging over my clit with a slow, devastating precision that rips a gasp from my throat.
My hips jerk instinctively, desperate for more. He holds still, savoring it, savoring me.
His voice is a whisper against my skin. “Ready for me, baby?”
I nod, breath caught in my throat, and he slides in.
Not fast.
Not gentle.
Deep.
So deep it rewrites your anatomy, carves out space and fills it all in one movement.
As he sinks into me, I cry out, raw and undone. One hand glides up the curve of my side, fingers trailing fire across my skin. He holds me like every inch of contact is necessary to keep him grounded. His other hand braces beside my head, muscle flexed, keeping him steady as he begins to move.
