Prologue #2
I hold her through it with both hands at her hips, keeping her pressed down against me, making her feel every inch as her body shakes.
Her face is bare and unguarded — brows drawn, mouth open, flush climbing her chest and her throat.
I've watched Sutton keep her composure in every difficult room I've put her in.
This is none of that. This is just her, completely undone, and it wrecks me in ways I'm not prepared to examine yet.
I lay her back on the bed, spreading her legs wide and angling myself to go even deeper. Gripping her shoulders, I pull her closer with every thrust, my hips slamming into hers. She rubs her clit furiously, her movements matching the rhythm of my thrusts.
I command her to keep rubbing her clit, my voice thick with lust. Her hand moves faster, her moans growing louder.
I dip my head to capture her nipple in my mouth again, my teeth grazing the sensitive bud.
I tug on it gently, then bite down harder, pulling it between my lips.
She cries out, her hand tangling in my hair as her body writhes beneath me.
Her legs tremble as I drive into her harder, filling her completely. I suck her nipple again, grunting as the pleasure builds within me. Her nails dig into my chest, the sharp pain only fueling my desire.
She clenches around me, her pussy pulsing with each thrust. Her screams turn to breathy moans as I grasp her shoulders, burying myself completely inside her. The way her body tightens around me is enough to push me to the brink, and it does.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, I pull her closer until her breasts press against my palm. I drive into her mercilessly, slipping my other hand between her legs to rub her clit. Her body arches against mine, her moans growing louder and more desperate.
I thrust into her with everything I have, her cries filling the room as we lose ourselves in each other. She cries out as another orgasm arrives and her body nearly gives out. I wrap my hand around her thighs as I lift her legs, and place each of them on my shoulder.
"Look at me fucking you." I command after driving my cock deep into her.
She nods and looks into my eyes, her lips parted and sex written all over her expression. I groan loudly as her pussy tightens around me, clenching harder and harder. Her fingernails dig into my abdomen, the sharp pain fueling the fire in my core. I'm not sure how long I can hold on.
"You're gonna make me come so fucking hard," I pant.
She purrs softly, her voice almost a whimper. My toes curl at her sounds, my entire body tensing as I reach the brink. I grunt out loud, my voice echoing through the room as pleasure crashes over me.
Groaning, I lean into her ear, my arms tightening around her as I thrust harder and faster, chasing my release, the sensation growing in my groin.
In seconds, I still myself as I pull out just in time, my cock covered in her juices.
My hand moves furiously up and down, jerking it as I come undone.
I shoot spurts of my warm cum across her stomach, her thighs, and the sheets.
"Fuck," I exclaim breathlessly, jerking myself through the last tremors, making sure to release every drop.
I take a few breaths, as I slide my fingers back into her slick heat, determined to bring her to another orgasm. I find that spot deep inside her that makes her toes curl, my other hand teasing and pinching her nipples while I gently bite them.
I add another finger, stretching her hole wider, her moans turn to desperate cries. She moans as her body convulses around my hand, her release washing over her in waves. Her moans fill the room, her body trembling uncontrollably as the pleasure rolls through her.
As her breathing slows, I lay her back gently, brushing damp hair from her flushed face. I fall next to her on the mattress and wait. My hand slowly begins to caress my length again. I'm not done with her just yet.
Her chest rises and falls in slow, uneven rhythm, her body still trembling through the last of it. I watch her in the dark — the flush across her skin, her lips parted, her lashes resting against her cheeks — and my hand moves along my length in long, deliberate strokes.
She turns her head. Her eyes move to my hand, then to my face, and what crosses her expression is not surprise.
It's something quieter and more dangerous — recognition.
Readiness. She watches me the way she watched me all evening, like whatever comes next is something she has already decided she wants.
All of these months of maintaining every distance I constructed between us. Every charged moment recalibrated. Every reason I rehearsed for why she needed to stay on the other side of a very deliberate line—she was a complication I couldn't afford.
She reaches out and wraps her hand over mine — not replacing it, just covering it, her fingers warm at my wrist. She looks at me with those blue eyes that have lived inside my chest since the morning she walked through my office door, and she says nothing at all. She doesn't have to.
"Come here," I say.