I'm constantly in my head—calculating structural loads, analysing material stress points, worrying about money, about my mom, thinking three steps ahead.
But with Troy, I'm suddenly, vividly aware of every nerve ending, every inch of skin. The weight of him against me anchors me to this moment in a way nothing else ever has.
“Stand up,” he commands, voice dropping an octave.
I comply immediately, legs shaky beneath me.
I'm tired of being wound so tight that I might shatter. Tired of second-guessing every feeling, every impulse.
Being desired by Troy Hawkins is like standing in the eye of a storm—dangerous, electric, and strangely peaceful all at once. There's power in choosing to surrender. In saying?—
I trust you with this. With me.
And that's what terrifies me most. Not that he'll take control, but that I'll like it. That I'll want more of it.
“Take off your jeans,” he says, leaning back against the headboard. “Slowly.”
My hands move to my waistband, heart hammering as I unbutton them with deliberate patience. I slide them down my hips, stepping out of them while maintaining eye contact.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs. “Now come here.”
I crawl into the bed, and he guides me to straddle his lap, strong hands gripping my thighs.
“Touch yourself,” he instructs, lips brushing my collarbone. “Show me what you like.”
I hesitate briefly before sliding my hand between us, gasping when my fingers find their target. His eyes never leave mine, watching intently as pleasure builds within me.
“That's it,” he encourages, voice husky. “God, you're perfect.”
His hands roam my waist and he holds me tight.
“Let me see those beautiful eyes,” Troy murmurs, his voice rippling through my body. “Don't look away.”
My fingers circle against my center, breath catching as I follow his instruction. His hands slide up my waist, cupping my breasts with possession.
“Keep going,” he whispers, leaning forward to take one nipple between his lips. The dual sensation—his hot mouth and my own touch—makes my hips buck involuntarily.
“Troy,” I gasp, struggling to maintain the steady rhythm as pleasure builds.
“You're doing so well,” he praises against my skin, teeth grazing the sensitive peak before moving to the other breast. “Show me how you like it.”
His words wash over me, both soothing and incendiary. I increase my pace, feeling exposed yet utterly safe under his watchful gaze.
“That's it.” His hand slides around to grip my ass, the other tangling in my hair to guide my mouth to his for a searing kiss. “You're so fucking beautiful like this.”
When he pulls back, his expression is raw with desire. “Faster now,” he instructs, voice thick. “I want to watch you come apart.”
I obey without hesitation, trembling as his mouth returns to my breast, tongue flicking against the sensitive bud while he whispers praise and encouragement against my skin.
“You're close,” he observes, voice vibrating against mychest. “I can feel it. I can’t wait to feel you come around my cock.”
My body tightens, muscles coiling as pleasure builds to an unbearable peak. His gaze holds mine captive, refusing to let me hide as I shatter. The orgasm hits with stunning force, my body arching against him as waves of sensation crash through me.
“Yes,” he growls, holding me steady through the aftershocks. “God, you're incredible.”
Before I can recover, he's flipping us over, pinning me beneath him with a predatory grace that steals my breath. His mouth claims mine in a kiss that's all heat and possession while his hand slides down to replace mine, fingers circling my oversensitive flesh.
“Again,” he demands against my lips.
