Chapter Fucking Cheeky
Fucking Cheeky
Cohen
Hell. I’m screwed.
I tried to resist. I really did.
And if it had been anyone else standing in front of me, I would have managed.
But it’s Sloane Heart.
A tempting angel.
The center of all my wants and cravings.
The woman I’ve already proven—more than once—that I absolutely cannot fucking resist.
She told me to fuck her properly and stop acting like a puppy?
I’m not a damn puppy.
I’m Cohen Becker—certified asshole.
I shove her back against the shower tiles again. Yeah, I want her. Way too much. But this time it’s not just desire.
It’s because she asked.
She wants me.
Here.
Now.
And I know she’ll regret it—but I want to make damn sure she comes back for more.
My hand clamps down on her hips, hard. Her fingers slide back around my cock, her grip driving me insane. I push her soaked pants down just enough.
“Brace yourself, Angel,” I growl, my voice blending with the hot spray. “Something tells me next time you’ll be begging instead of being so fucking insolent.”
She laughs—actually laughs—with that smug expression I love, the one that completely wrecks me.
She’s fucked me.
Completely scrambled my brain and every good intention I had tonight, ever since she yanked open that damn shower curtain.
“Dream on, Becker.”
She says it with so much confidence it almost makes me hesitate.
Almost.
No.
There’s no way.
She won't want anyone else. She might be the fucking Queen of Hearts, but I will own her pussy.
She won’t be thinking about anyone else for a long time.
Her blue eyes challenge me, and damn it—I’m starting to think she’s the one holding the reins.
I can’t tear my gaze away from her bare breasts pressed against my chest. Small. Firm. Perfect. Wet and slick. The contrast between her softness and my hardened skin drives me out of my mind.
Fuck, Sloane.
I step closer, irritated by her pants getting in the way. Irritated by her half-naked body. Irritated by how irritating she is.
“You’re the one who’ll be dreaming about me, Angel,” I murmur against her ear as I undo the button.
“I just want you to hurry the hell up, Becker,” she snaps back, her voice breaking into a breathy gasp.
That’s it.
I grab the fabric of her pants and yank them down in one sharp move, shoving them off her hips.
Now she’s exposed.
Completely.
My hands grab her ass, pushing her hard against me. I bend down, claiming her mouth, silencing her with a fierce, punishing kiss.
I drive into her in one brutal thrust, not giving her a second to adjust.
She cries out into my mouth, the sound melting into a moan as my tongue takes over.
We’re naked and wet, and she’s completely mine.
I wish this moment could last forever.
I lift her slightly, pressing her harder against the shower wall, wanting her to feel all of me.
She moves with me, rocking her hips in a rhythm that clashes with my desperation. Her hands grab my hair, yanking my head back.
Her eyes fly open when I thrust deeper, her fingers digging into my biceps, nails biting into my wet skin. Her breasts slide against my chest with every movement.
“You’re… slow,” she pants, her voice trembling with frustration.
Insolent little thing.
But no one ever denies Sloane Heart what she wants.
So like a puppet under her control, I pick up the pace—and God, it’s heaven.
“Now… is that better?” I grunt between thrusts.
Another deep stroke, hard enough to pull a helpless moan from her.
“Ah—there…” she breathes, that annoyed tone driving me insane. “That almost feels… decent.”
Almost decent.
She’s trying to make me lose it—and she’s succeeding.
She’s fucking beautiful, flushed and disheveled.
I thrust again, steadying her as best I can. Her legs are shaky, the shower floor slick beneath us.
“I think you like it,” I say with a grin when I hear her gasp again.
Our bodies slam together, the sound obscene. Her ass slamming into me—yeah, definitely my favorite soundtrack.
“You…” she pants, voice almost a growl, “…you really think you’re irresistible.”
“Am I wrong?”
Another deep stroke.
Her body answers before her mind does, the way she tightens around me saying far more than her words ever could.
“Yes.”
But the look of pure bliss gives her away. I love that expression on her face.
“Then you should see yourself right now.” I pause only long enough to kiss her—I can’t help it. “You’re so damn beautiful.”
Her eyes meet mine, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. For a second, she looks vulnerable.
Just a second.
“No one asked for compliments, Becker.” Mischief flashes in her eyes. “I asked you to fuck me.”
Damn it.
She won’t let me win.
She won’t surrender.
So I pull almost all the way out and slam back into her—and hell, the sound she makes wrecks me just as much.
“You’re so fucking tight,” I growl. “Perfect and insolent at the same time.”
She laughs—but the sound dies in her throat when I thrust again.
I grip her hips hard, reclaiming control of the rhythm. Slow, deep thrusts—then fast, brutal ones. I want her mind so flooded with pleasure there’s no room left for her smart mouth.
Her eyes are closed now, her head pressed to the tiles, but her body keeps clinging to me. Her nails rake down my back—another mark I won’t forget.
“Who’s the puppy now?” I whisper, my body on fire.
She doesn’t answer with words.
Her body tightens around me, the pressure building until it’s unbearable. Her mouth opens, and my fingers move instinctively to muffle her cry.
Her orgasm crashes over me like a wave of heat, ripping away what little control I have left.
I growl—pure possession—and follow her, my final thrust a violent collapse against her body.
Fuck good intentions.
Sloane Heart is my most beautiful transgression.