Page 83 of On The Edge

“I’m just making sure you don’t back out of this deal. I’m already too far invested to have to finish this myself,” I tease.

“Oh, I’m invested all right.” He grabs me behind my knees and slides my ass to the edge of the bed so that his cock rests right on top of where my fingers are playing. He grabs my hand and lifts it to his lips, making a show of sucking on one of my fingers. His hum and the heat of his mouth are like a mainline right back to where my fingers just were. And as if on cue, Cruz takes his other hand and lines the crest of his cock at my entrance.

“Just because it’s been weeks since I last had you, it doesn’t make the want any less. I’m going to fuck you, Maddix. You’re going to take every goddamn inch of me, and I’m going to fuck you until my cock is soaked and my balls are dripping with proof of what I do to you. The only words I want on your lips are Cruz and more. Understood?”

“Yes.”

He quirks a brow. “Already breaking rules?” He pats my pussy with force and the jolt to the nerves is an unexpected turn-on. “Should we try that again?”

I smile. It’s a slow seductive crawl of curve to my lips. “More.”

“There’s my girl.” This time he pats me more gently, but I arch my hips up, desperate for the friction of his touch, not just my own. “After you come, after I get to watch this sweet pussy of yours beg for more, then I’ll get mine. Understood?”

Jesus. Did I miss this the last time around? The dominance? The dirty talk? The possessiveness? And holy hell does that add another whole element to Cruz Navarro that could bring any woman to her knees.

And not just to be down there worshipping his cock.

Sure I might have needed the alcohol to initiate that first time between us, but I have a feeling I missed a whole hell of a lot because it was dulled.

And if the sensations he brought on me then were dulled, I can’t imagine the explosions of color I’m going to be seeing momentarily.

“I can handle you,” I say, my smile strained with need.

“Oh, I know you can and you will.”

“More,” I taunt again.

His grin is wicked but it’s his eyes that try to hold mine before they slowly roll back in his head as he pushes into me ever so slowly that own me. It’s so quiet you can hear a pin drop in the room as he allows my body to stretch and accommodate every glorious, thick inch of him.

His guttural groan fills the room as his fingers dig into my hips in restraint. It’s a heady feeling knowing and seeing what I do to him. That his desire for me—not just the sex—seems to be as strong as mine is for him.

“Tell me when, baby, because it’s the best fucking torture being buried this deep in you.”

I reach forward and scratch my fingers down his abdomen, his body tensing with the motion, causing his cock to jerk deep inside me.

I moan. I can’t help it. It feels so damn good, so damn full, so damn right. And that moan is consent to Cruz to do anything he wants, because there is no way I’m walking away from this feeling right now.

No fucking way.

“Madds.” My name is a swear word of pleasure as he begins to move. Slowly at first. Diligently. Strategically. “Keep touching yourself,” he murmurs. “Show me what you like. What you want. How to touch you.”

Each sentence ending is punctuated by a forceful drive back in so that he bottoms out within me and hits every desperate nerve ending craving his touch.

I lift my hips to give him better access. “More.” My fingers add pressure to my clit as he gives me delicious pleasure elsewhere. “More.” Over and over again. “More.” In. Out. Grind. Repeat.

The first time, I knew the pleasure, I recognized his skill, but again, the alcohol dulled it. But this time I’m on high alert. My senses. My nerve endings. Every goddamn place he touches lights with fire. A smolder of a burn that intensifies with each pass of his cock.

He leans forward, driving even deeper, and kisses me. Our tongues mingle. Our pants are shared. Our bodies working to a fever pitch.

“That’s it, Madds. I can feel you tightening. Can feel you dripping. Can . . . there it is. Come for me. Come on my fucking cock for me.”

I cry his name out, or God, as the orgasm consumes all sense of reason and faculty. It’s a freight train of desire that derails and wrecks my every nerve perfectly. Currents shoot through me. From my lower belly out to my fingers and toes and then back again, hitting me even harder the second time around.

I’m lost to reason.

To my surroundings.

To everything but the feelings inside me and the man still braced above me.