Her blue eyes challenge me, and damn it—I’m starting to think she’s the one holding the reins.
I can’t tear my gaze away from her bare breasts pressed against my chest. Small. Firm. Perfect. Wet and slick. The contrast between her softness and my hardened skin drives me out of my mind.
Fuck, Sloane.
I step closer, irritated by her pants getting in the way. Irritated by her half-naked body. Irritated by how irritating she is.
“You’re the one who’ll be dreaming about me, Angel,” I murmur against her ear as I undo the button.
“I just want you to hurry the hell up, Becker,” she snaps back, her voice breaking into a breathy gasp.
That’s it.
I grab the fabric of her pants and yank them down in one sharp move, shoving them off her hips.
Now she’s exposed.
Completely.
My hands grab her ass, pushing her hard against me. I bend down, claiming her mouth, silencing her with a fierce, punishing kiss.
I drive into her in one brutal thrust, not giving her a second to adjust.
She cries out into my mouth, the sound melting into a moan as my tongue takes over.
We’re naked and wet, and she’s completely mine.
I wish this moment could last forever.
I lift her slightly, pressing her harder against the shower wall, wanting her to feel all of me.
She moves with me, rocking her hips in a rhythm that clashes with my desperation. Her hands grab my hair, yanking my head back.
Her eyes fly open when I thrust deeper, her fingers digging into my biceps, nails biting into my wet skin. Her breasts slide against my chest with every movement.
“You’re… slow,” she pants, her voice trembling with frustration.
Insolent little thing.
But no one ever denies Sloane Heart what she wants.
So like a puppet under her control, I pick up the pace—and God, it’s heaven.
“Now… is that better?” I grunt between thrusts.
Another deep stroke, hard enough to pull a helpless moan from her.
“Ah—there…” she breathes, that annoyed tone driving me insane. “That almost feels… decent.”
Almost decent.
She’s trying to make me lose it—and she’s succeeding.
She’s fucking beautiful, flushed and disheveled.
I thrust again, steadying her as best I can. Her legs are shaky, the shower floor slick beneath us.
“I think you like it,” I say with a grin when I hear her gasp again.
