Page 104 of Off the Grid

He’s everywhere at once, hands and teeth and lips and skin, and it’s nowhere near enough to my awakened senses.

We shift backward somehow, our feet moving as our hearts race, until I bump into a wall. A nervous giggle falls from my lips but quickly shifts to a groan as he dips and takes my nipple in his mouth.

When he closes his lips around it and sucks, it’s like a mainline to every erogenous zone in my body. At the same time he positions his other hand so his thumb can add friction to my clit.

It’s a one-two punch that has me bucking into his hand and begging for more.

The sensations are so much and not enough at the same time.

I’m greedy. Needy. Desperate for more.

We stumble backward into the bedroom, our laughs floating through the air. He pushes me back playfully onto the bed as he gets a condom to protect us.

And as soon as that’s on, he’s stroking his cock and crawling between my thighs. But he stops short of touching me and I suddenly panic.

“What—”

“You are . . . Jesus, you’re hot.”

And just as soon as I settle into his words, I gasp as he slides his cock up and down the length of my slit.

“Good God, woman.” He groans—the sound an aural aphrodisiac—and uses the head of his cock to spread my arousal all around.

And then he pushes his way into me, inch by beautiful inch, until he’s sheathed root to tip. Our mutual groan is the only sound in the room, as he lets me adjust and enjoy the feel of him filling me.

It’s the sweetest of burns and the most pleasurable of aches. Nerve endings spark to life. I’m so overwhelmed with the onslaught of sensations, but it’s the trembling of his hand on my hip that brings me back.

Riggs’s rein on his constraint is slipping.

I writhe beneath his touch. Onto his cock. Needing him to move. Trying to cut those reins.

He hisses “fuck” out into the room seconds before he begins to move. And the minute he does, I sink into the pleasure his cock creates and soar in its haze.

Every thrust in and pull back out causes a chain reaction of indescribable sensations I’ve never felt and know I’ll only want to feel from here on out.

“Faster,” I moan as my body begs for more. As my pussy tightens around him.

“Yes. The answer is always yes,” he groans, his eyes meeting mine, his eyelids heavy with desire. “You’re a fucking goddess. All wet for me. So ready for my cock.”

He sets a punishing pace, and I can imagine there will be bruising from the way he’s grabbing my hips.

This. Feels. Insanely. Amazing.

I close my eyes momentarily and try to let go. To not think. To focus on the action. On the sensations. On the man giving them to me.

Come on, Cam. It’s never been like this. Felt like this.

He looks so damn sexy as he rams me higher up the bed. His biceps that flex as he holds my hips. His neck, taut, angry almost. The slap of our skin. The labored breaths.

“C’mon, Cam. Come for me. Come all over my cock.”

I want this. I want this so hard.

My breath grows shallow as my body surges with the unexpected current reverberating through me. It’s like I’ve been shocked but there’s no release point. No way to ease the pressure that’s building like water behind a dam.

Sweat beads on his forehead, and his body is so fucking tense and his cock swells so big from trying to get me there. From trying to make me come.

I cry out when the sensations become too much. When I’m overwhelmed and frustrated and everything in between.