Page 75 of Striker’s Rebel

“Striker.”

His mouth brushes mine.

“What do you need?”

“More.”

He gives it to me.

No teasing this time.

His fingers thrust deeper and faster, his thumb moving with enough pressure that my legs start to shake.

I stop caring about being quiet.

My body tightens around his fingers.

He feels it.

“Come for me.”

The command goes straight through me.

I break hard, grabbing his shoulders as the orgasm tears through me. Striker keeps his hand exactly where it is, drawing it out until I’m shaking beneath him and trying to catch my breath.

“Jesus.”

His mouth brushes my cheek.

“Morning.”

I laugh weakly. “I hate you.”

“Liar.”

Probably.

Before I can answer, he shifts between my legs.

His cock presses against me, hard and hot, and apparently my body has learned absolutely nothing about restraint.

I wrap my hand around him again.

Striker groans.

“June.”

“What?”

“You keep doing that, this is gonna be over before it starts.”

That shuts me up.

Mostly because I’m ridiculously pleased with myself.

He rubs the head of his cock against me, and my breath catches.

“Striker.”