I arched back.
He leaned in.
His mouth was on me then, sucking, circling, flicking.
All the while, my hips rocked, riding his length, giving us both a taste of what we needed, but allowing the frustration to grow in equal measure.
His hands slid back down my sides, across my belly, then worked my button and zipper free.
Anticipation buzzed across each nerve ending as he grabbed me behind each knee and pulled until I flipped onto my back on the mattress.
He moved up to his knees, reaching down for my pants and dragging them and my panties down my legs.
Then I was completely bared to him.
His gaze lingered.
His fingers grazed every inch of me, as if he knew this was the last time too, as if he were trying to commit me to memory.
The reverence in his gaze had something breaking open in my chest, leaving me feeling raw and split open.
When the tears pricked my eyes, I knew I had to stop him, had to turn the sensations into something hotter, something that burned instead of warmed.
I shifted back up, pushing him until he was flat again, until I was straddling him, taking control.
I reached between us, pulling down his underwear until his hardness sprang free.
I shifted up, then pressed down, feeling the slide of him against me.
A soft curse escaped Harrison at the slick feel of me, at the needy whimper that escaped my lips.
Harrison’s hand shot out, digging around in the nightstand and coming back with the small square foil.
Desperate for the feel of him, I lifted up, allowing him a second to protect us.
Every muscle in his body was tense, shaking with his barely contained need.
When his hands went to my hips again, they dug in, bruised.
“Ride me, Layna,” he demanded, his voice a raspy sound that brushed over my skin, and sank into my bones.
I lifted up, positioned, and sank down.
A cry escaped my lips at the thick stretch of him.
Losing the battle with his control, Harrison’s hips thrust up into me, his cock settling deep.
It was pure instinct then.
I rocked.
Harrison thrust up into me.
With each moment, our movements grew harder, rougher.
The want tightened, sharpened, hurt, and yet I chased more of it, riding harder and faster.
Until, finally, the tension snapped and my body surged.
