Page 181 of Freed
Then his hand comes up and covers my mouth.
My body clenches around him and his eyes flash.
“Oh, you like that,” he murmurs.
I nod against his palm and his control snaps. He starts moving harder, one hand braced beside my head, the other keeping my mouth covered while he fucks me into the mattress.Every thrust is deep and possessive, his hips snapping into mine, his cock dragging over that perfect place inside me until my eyes roll back.
“Look at you,” he says, voice shredded. “Coming to me naked and wet and needy after putting our children to bed.”
The words send heat flooding through me. His mouth lowers to my ear.
“My beautiful wife. My filthy, desperate girl.”
I moan against his hand.
“That’s right. Take it.”
I do. I take every inch of him, every hard stroke, every filthy praise whispered against my skin. I take the weight of him, the heat of him, the way he owns my body without ever making me feel anything but worshipped.
His hand slips from my mouth to my throat, not squeezing, just holding me there, thumb brushing the frantic beat of my pulse.
“Mine,” he says.
I nod, already too far gone.
“Say it.”
“Yours,” I whisper.
His hips jerk.
“Again.”
“Always yours.”
He kisses me hard, swallowing my gasp as he reaches between us and finds my clit. The second his thumb circles me, I nearly come.
“Lorenzo—”
“I know,cara.” His voice gentles even as his body stays ruthless. “I’ve got you.”
He rubs me in tight, perfect circles while he drives into me, and the pleasure builds so fast I can’t hide from it. My nails rakedown his back. My thighs clamp around his waist. Every muscle in my body goes tight.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Come on my cock. Let me put another baby in you.”
I break.
The orgasm rips through me, hot and blinding, my body pulsing around him as I bury my cry in his shoulder. Lorenzo curses, hips stuttering, his restraint shredded by the feel of me coming around him. Then he buries himself deep and comes with a rough, broken groan, his body locking over mine as he spills inside me.
For a long moment, there is nothing but our breathing.
His weight settles carefully, not crushing me, just enough to make me feel held. He kisses my temple. Then my cheek. Then my mouth, softer this time.
“So,” he says, still buried inside me, voice rough with satisfaction. “Was that what you needed?”
I laugh shakily, my fingers sliding through his damp hair. “Mostly.”
His brows pull together. “Mostly?”
