I push up on my knees until only the head of his cock is still inside me and then sink back down, concentrating on the feel of every inch, each of those little balls that create the most magnificent friction.
He lets me take control, lets me move at my own pace, his grip on my hips only enough to hold me steady and assist with what I want to do when he could very easily take over at any time.
But God, I needed this.
Not just the sexual release, but all the feelings being with him like this brings to the surface.
The reminder that I’m alive.
The faith that there are still good people and good things in this world.
The belief that, in the end, everything will be all right.
All of it is somehow wrapped up in this beautiful man who lets me ride his cock and control his body the same way he usually does mine.
My nails dig into his chest, and he slips a hand between us, his fingers finding my already sensitive clit. He rolls his calloused thumb against it, and I buck on his length, clenching around it in a way that has a low hiss slipping from his lips.
“Do that again, Hellcat.”
I do, clamping tightly on him every time I grind down. Clasping on every retreat. Keeping him wrapped in my pussy like a vise.
But I can’t take it anymore.
The slow, torturous pace…
I have to move.
I need it harder.
I need what we had before.
I need to not feel like I’m broken and something to handle delicately.
I ride him harder.
Faster.
He moves with me, his hips rolling up to meet every downward thrust, his hands lifting me easily on my trembling legs. With his head tipped back, his neck muscles straining, he looks so fucking beautiful. Like Adonis lying in this bed.
And he’s mine.
Something about that word makes my heart stutter and I almost slip, almost lose control over my movements, but Gage keeps us going, pushing the rhythm to a fevered pace.
He’s so many things.
Brutal.
Demanding.
Controlling.
Infuriating in so many ways.
Yet also sweet and caring.
Selfless.
So many contradictions wrapped up in one man, and I can’t get enough of him.
