Page 116 of Buckin' Around

I send a thumb circling over her clit until her back arches and her hair sweeps over the countertop. I thrust into her until I’m seated up to the hilt.

“Oh fuck!” she cries, hips bucking, as I let her adjust to my girth. To my cock fully seated inside her. Points of light slide into my periphery. Her tight pussy is set to milk me dry the second I move.

I drop my head, distracting myself with the swell of her breasts, the sides, underneath, before settling my mouth over her peak again.

Anything to take my focus off how fucking incredible, how tight she is. How intoxicating every inch of her beautiful body, her fire, and her wit are.

I mold her flesh with my hands, her ass, hips and breasts until she’s scratching at me to move. Riley hums as she mutters, “More, please Spence, move. I need more of you.”

Her soft pleas fall on eager ears.

I pull out, slow, torturously so, until only my tip is left in her entrance.

She swallows, the creamy softness of her neck moving.

I slam into her, gripping her hips.

And . . .fu-uck.

“Eyes on us, Riles. Watch every inch, every damn time I give you what you need.”

Her pink lips make a pretty O shape as I pull out and slam back in.

I’m panting as I thrust into her, over and over.

A string of whimpers starts pouring from her parted lips, and I drive into her faster.

Her fingers grapple for purchase anywhere they can on my body, nails digging into my skin.

My baby is giving me fucking war wounds for the way I love her. The air leaves my lungs and doesn’t return. I hesitate, mid-thrust, as my gaze widens, eyes searching her face.

A stone grows in my throat.

I knew I was in deep... but not?—

“Spence?” Hands close around my jawline. “Spencer, talk to me.”

Worry is etched over her face.

I want so badly to respond, but every word that forms slams into the occlusion in my throat. My mouth opens and closes.

Riley’s fine fingers slide behind my neck, coaxing my face to hers. “Come on, your turn. Talk to me.”

“I—”

No, now is not the time. Not mid-fuck.

Not when she is still unsure about so many things. I may be head over heels for this woman, but I’m not stepping out on that particular limb until I’m left with nothing else to say.

So, I grind those three little words between my molars.

“I’m okay, sorry. Just the shoulder.”

I’m a goddamn liar.

A filthy fucking liar, literally.

“Oh, okay.” She runs her fingertips over the sore joint in question. “Need me to take over?”