Chapter 18 #3
Jillian's breath hitched as his thumb brushed her nipple, the touch light but deliberate. He pressed against the small of her back, his cock pressing insistently into her skin. She swallowed repeatedly.
"Moe—" His name came out half-protest, half-plea, but he cut her off with a sharp twist of his fingers inside her, the sudden pressure wrenching a cry from her throat.
"Say it," he demanded, his teeth scraping her shoulder.
She could've lied. Could've shoved him off and told her she wasn't going to help him do the impossible and find his friend. She wanted nothing to do with Everstill. Was she foolish to think that having sex with Moe, falling in love with him, believing in a future was possible?
She was twenty years old. She didn't know what the fuck she was doing with her life.
"Jillian." He growled.
His fingers were moving again, slow and torturous, and the words spilled out before she could stop them. "I love it."
Moe's grin was slow, predatory, his fingers pausing long enough to make her whine before resuming their rhythm. "Good girl."
The praise sent heat pooling low in her stomach. Jillian swallowed over the lump in her throat as Moe's mouth was on the side of her neck, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin just below her ear.
He shifted behind her, his cock dragging against the curve of her ass, slick with her juice and the remnants of their earlier mess. "Turn over," he murmured, his voice thick with want. When she hesitated, his hand tightened in her hair, tugging hard to make her gasp. "Now."
Jillian obeyed, rolling onto her back, her legs falling open in silent invitation. Moe loomed over her, his gaze raking down her body like he was memorizing every mark he'd left. His thumb brushed her lower lip, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. "You look wrecked."
Hair tangled, lips swollen, her skin flushed from collarbones to thighs. The ache between her legs was a dull throb, but the way he was looking at her stoked the embers back to life.
He didn't give her time to recover, just lined himself up and pushed in with one smooth thrust, her body yielding easily despite the soreness.
Jillian arched off the bed with a choked moan, her nails digging into his shoulders.
Moe groaned, his forehead dropping to hers, his hips rolling in a slow, deliberate grind.
His breath was hot against her lips, his cock twitching inside her as if to prove his point.
The slow drag of him inside her was almost worse than the brutal pace from before.
Every inch deliberate, every shift calculated to wring another ragged sound from her throat.
Moe braced himself on his elbows, his chest pressed against hers, the heat between them stifling.
He didn't rush, didn't let her chase the friction she craved.
He kept her pinned beneath him, his hips moving in a maddening rhythm that had her squirming.
"Please." Jillian gasped, her heels digging into the small of his back. "God, please."
Moe laughed, the sound dark and pleased, his breath fanning across her lips.
His hips snapped forward, filling her in one sharp stroke.
The suddenness of it punched the air from her lungs, her cry muffled against his shoulder.
Moe didn't let her recover. He set a relentless pace, his thrusts deep enough to make her see stars.
"That's it," he growled, his hand fisting in her hair, tilting her head back. "Take it, sweetheart."
Jillian's fingers scrabbled against his shoulders as Moe drove into her, the bed frame protesting with each thrust. The heat between them was unbearable, sweat-slick skin sticking where they touched, but neither of them cared.
Moe's breath was ragged against her neck, his teeth sinking into the junction of her shoulder as if marking her all over again.
"Look at me," he growled, his grip tightening in her hair.
She forced her eyes open, her vision swimming, but the intensity of his gaze pinned her more effectively than his hands ever could. There was something feral in his expression, something that made her stomach twist with anticipation.
"You're gonna come again." His voice was rough, his thrusts turning uneven as he fought to keep his rhythm.
Jillian could only nod, her throat too tight to speak, her body tightening around him in response.
Moe groaned, his forehead dropping to hers, his breath mingling with hers. "Fuck, I can feel it—"
His words dissolved into a curse as she clenched around him, her orgasm ripping through her with a force that left her gasping. He followed her over the edge with a ragged groan, his hips stuttering as he spilled into her, his grip cradling her skull instead of pulling.
For a moment, they stayed breathless, tangled, neither one willing to move.
Then Moe rolled onto his back, dragging her with him, her body sprawled across his chest. Jillian could feel the rapid hammer of his heartbeat beneath her cheek, the rise and fall of his chest as he caught his breath.
His fingers traced idle patterns along her spine, the touch almost absent, but the possessiveness in it was unmistakable.