Page 130 of Buckin' Around

I’m delusional. I want—no,needthis as much as he does.

“Riles, I’m dying here. I’ve met the pavement, and I can’t peel my shattered body off it.” His throat bobs.

Emotion closes my throat over. “I know.”

I guide his hand from his cock and rise on my knees. Lining him up with my entrance, I work my way down his hard length as his face falls apart.

Oh, Spence.My heart squeezes in my chest.

“Baby,” I say, palming his face. “Look at how good we go together.”

I bottom out, and his hands snap to my hips.

His head falls backward as his eyes close.

I take up a rhythm with a deep need to make him feel as good as he makes me feel. Every. Time.

A glimmer of what could be filters through my mind as I rise, hands planting on his shoulders.

He moves his head, eyes opening to meet my gaze, and my hands slide into his hair at the base of his neck.

God, I need more. I can’t get close enough...

His rough grip starts to raise me and slam me back down. I grind over him on every downstroke as he thrusts up hard.

Sweat coats my skin with a sheen that glows in the amber light of the room.

“Mouth, Spence...” The words are threadbare, but he knows what I need as his lips close over my nipple, his teeth skating over the sensitive peak.

Bliss swells in my core.

Spencer’s thrusts turn sloppy as he mutters something I can’t make out. Blue eyes hold my own as I crash down around him, wave after wave tightening my body around his.

“Fuck, baby. Come for me, Riles.”

I implode.

“F-feck... Spe—” The syllables are hijacked by a whimpering cry as I meet his thrusts with my own rhythm.

As my release fades, my chest tightens.

I didn’t want this to end.

Idon’t.

Chapter 31

Spencer

Stace is tapping away on her laptop, the hiss of the barista machine punctuating the aromatic air. Silverware clatters and chatter fills the gaps. I sip my coffee in the small, quaint café she picked. Far enough away from any place our parents would frequent. Close enough we didn’t have to drive too far to meet.

Outside, the leaves are amber. The cool air whips down the street, and the sidewalk is littered with folks bundled up. Thanksgiving is not too far away.

It’s been almost three months since we ran into Emma at the event, and her silence is starting to make me wonder if it’s the calm before the storm.

Not that she ever made contact before, but if there’s even a chance that she’ll make a move to take Ives...

“So, if she gave up her child and had no contact with you, chances are she is in no position to take Ivy back. But...”