Chapter 41
forty-one
. . .
Violet
Before I can even think of catching my breath, he’s flipping me again, strong hands guiding me on top of him as he sits back on the couch. His eyes burn into mine, dark with hunger that hasn’t been sated.
“My turn,” he growls. “I want to watch you ride me.”
My thighs tremble as I hover above him. He’s fully clothed except for his jeans pushed down just enough, and there’s something wildly erotic about being completely naked while he remains dressed.
“Go on,” he urges, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of my hips. “Take what you want.”
I lower myself slowly, gasping as he fills me again. From this angle, he feels impossibly deep, hitting places inside me that make my vision blur. His hands guide my movements at first, lifting me up and bringing me back down in a way that has us both groaning.
“God, you feel like heaven,” he groans, his eyes never leaving mine as I begin to move on my own, finding a pace that has pleasure sparking through my veins.
His length stretches me perfectly, the rigid hardness of him pulsing inside me with each movement. I roll my hips, and he groans.
“You feel that?” he rasps, his voice like gravel. “How hard I am for you? Been thinking about this for days—being buried inside you, having you choke my cock.”
I whimper, my pace faltering as his words send heat spiraling through me.
“That’s it,” he continues, one hand sliding up to cup my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple. “You’re so fucking tight, Violet. So perfect.”
His hips thrust up to meet mine, the force of it stealing my breath. I brace my hands on his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as he buries himself to the hilt.
“Rowan,” I gasp, unable to form words as pleasure builds again, impossibly soon.
“Mm, you’re close again, aren’t you, sweetheart?” He lays his head on the back of the couch, looking up at me, eyes glazed with desire. “You’re squeezing me like you never want to let go.”
His voice drops even lower, each word a filthy promise. “You gonna soak me again while I tell you what a good girl you are?”
I nod frantically, too far gone for words as his fingers find my clit, rubbing tight circles that make my thighs shake.
“Look at me,” he commands. His hand finds my throat, not hard, but firm enough to make my breath catch. His fingers spread, claiming the delicate column of my neck, thumb brushing just beneath my jaw.
My eyes lock with his, drowning in the intensity I find there. His hips snap up sharply, hitting that perfect spot inside me.
“Mine.” He punctuates the word with a harsh stroke.
I’m lost in the sensation, my head falling back as I continue to ride him. My thighs are trembling with exertion, but I can’t stop moving. Every roll of my hips sends another jolt of pleasure through me. I’m aware of nothing but the fullness of him inside me.
“You’re so stunning like this,” he says. “Using me for your pleasure.”
His hands move up my sides, palming my breasts, thumbs brushing over my sensitive nipples. My hips jerk at the contact. I’m tender now, each touch bordering on pain, but oh my god, it’s so, so good.
He pinches my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, making me cry out. “You want me to suck on these pretty tits while you ride my cock?”
“Yes,” I breathe, my hips rocking faster. “God, yes.”
His lips close around my nipple. I arch my back, pushing farther into his mouth with a desperate moan.
His tongue flicks against the sensitive peak before he sucks hard, sending a jolt straight to my core.
He alternates between gentle licks and hungry pulls.
His teeth graze my nipple just enough to send that delicious edge of pain spiraling through me.
“Oh god,” I whimper, my rhythm faltering as he switches to my other breast, lavishing it with the same attention. My hands tangle in his hair, holding him against me.
Pleasure explodes through my body in white hot waves. I cry out for him, for God, for I don’t even know who. All I know is that nothing has ever felt so painfully perfect in my entire life.
With a guttural groan, he pulls me down hard against him. The first hot pulse of his orgasm pumps into me, his body shuddering beneath mine.
“Fuck, Violet!” His fingers dig into my hips as he holds me down, grinding me against him as he continues to pump inside me. I can feel every throb, every surge as he fills me completely.
His arms wrap around me, crushing me to him as his hips jerk upward in shallow thrusts.
“Don’t move,” he groans against my neck as his movements still. “Stay right here.”
I couldn’t if I tried. My body is boneless. His cock twitches with aftershocks, and the warm wetness of his release leaks out around where we’re joined, trickling down my inner thighs.
“We made a mess,” I whisper against his shoulder, my voice hoarse from crying out.
He makes a primal sound in response, his hands sliding down to cup my ass, pulling me impossibly closer. “Good.”
His hands stroke up and down my back in gentle, soothing motions, a stark contrast to the intensity of moments before. There’s a tenderness in his touch that makes my chest ache in the best possible way.
“Are you okay?” he asks, moving back to study my face.
“That was perfect. I needed…” I trail off, searching for words. “I needed to feel close to you again.”
“Um,” I shift, feeling another rush between my thighs. “We’re literally ruining your jeans.”
His hands tighten on my hips, keeping me firmly in place while he stays seated inside me.
“I said don’t move,” he commands, voice dropping to that low register that makes my insides quiver. “I like it.”
“What?”
“I like feeling you wet with me. Knowing I’m dripping out of you.”
Heat floods my cheeks.
“No, ma’am. Stay right where you are,” he says. “Let me feel it.”
“You’re filthy,” I whisper, pressing my forehead against his.
“Only with you,” he murmurs, his hands sliding up my back. “I could die right here with a smile on my face.”
I snort. “Pretty sure I’d be the prime suspect in your mysterious death.”
“Worth it.”
I reach for the throw blanket, tugging it halfway over us, then pause and raise an eyebrow. “Did you seriously just whistle the Rocky theme song?”
His face doesn’t move, but his eyes sparkle. “Nope.”
“Rowan.”
“Maybe.”
I roll my eyes, but my cheeks are aching from smiling. “You’re absurd.”
“And yet, you were screaming my name not ten minutes ago.”
“Touché.”
He stretches like a cat, arms overhead, shameless. “God, I missed this.”
I snuggle in closer. “Sex?”
“No.” He pauses. “Well—yes. But mostly this. Us. Laughing. Teasing. You.”
I grin into his chest, my fingers idly tracing the faint line of a scar near his ribs under his shirt—the one he got trying to impress me with a backflip in tenth grade gym class. It’s faded now, but I know every inch of him like a favorite book.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “I missed this, too.”
His arm tightens around me, anchoring us in the cocoon of low light and lazy post-bliss warmth.
“Violet?”
“Mm?”
He tilts his head, just enough to press a kiss to the crown of mine. “Don’t ever stop calling me on my shit.”
I laugh. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”