Page 82 of Hard to Love

“Don’t make a sound,” I whisper into her ear. “Or I won’t let you come.”

Her laugh is deep and throaty and makes my balls tighter, if that’s even possible. Being buried this deep has them tight already.

Jesus fucking Christ.

This woman.

She could drag me to the depths of hell, and I swear to God, I’d follow her.

I kiss my way back down her spine and begin to move. Slow, deep strokes that feel like every nerve ending in my cock is getting paid its due attention by her wet, tight heat.

The woman is definitely my drug. The feel of her. The taste of her. The sound of her.

I push my way in and grind hard against her as her hands reach out and grip the edge of the desk. Her teeth nip at my hand covering her mouth and—

“Sanderson. Am I talking to myself here?”

“My connection is breaking up,” I say, trying to fight the breathlessness to my voice. “I’ll have to call you back.”

And without waiting for his response, I hang up the phone before sliding my hand from Stevie’s mouth to fist in her hair.

“Thank God,” she moans as I slam into her from behind, her body shoving against the desk and her skin moving with the connection. I do it again. And again.

“Harder,” she groans.

I thrust as deep as I can go and get rewarded by how she tightens herself around me.

“Faster,” she begs.

I lean over her, grinding into her again. “You’ll get me, all right. Hard. Fast. Nonstop.” I scrape my teeth over her shoulder. “But on my terms. In my way.”

“Please.” The breathlessness with which she says that single word is such a damn turn-on.

This time when I pick up the pace, there is no slowing down.

Not when she screams out my name and her body pulses all around me.

Not when my spine begins to tingle and my balls tighten as she milks me over the edge.

Not when it’s her name on my lips this time.

My last thought as I find my release is this is going to hurt.

She is going to hurt.

Letting her go is going to hurt.

STEVIE

“I’M ON MY WAY OUT,” Faith says as she moves into the kitchen.

“Faith?” Finn asks looking over from where we sit on the couch. “It’s past nine o’clock. I thought you left a long time ago.”

“I know but I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed while I’m gone for a few days. The refrigerator in the garage has meals ready for you and—”

“Thank you,” he says. “You didn’t have to stay. Your family is probably missing you.”

She snorts. “Stanley is too wrapped up in watching baseball tonight to even notice I’m gone.” She waves her hand his way in dismissal and smiles.