Page 68 of Riding Dirty

Yes.

My head falls backward, bouncing against the cabinet door behind me as my eyes slide closed. His fingers dip inside me, his palm grinding against my clit. I know that I probably shouldn’t enjoy this as much as I do, but there’s something illicitly perfect about the fact that anyone could just waltz in here and see us.

Coast leans over me, his lips touching the shell of my ear. His breath washes over my ear, heavy and hot. I want to feel more. I want it all. His fingers slip inside me and he begins to move them, making a come-hither motion.

My breathing comes out in hot and heavy pants. Pinching my eyes closed, I shake my head from side to side, feeling the hard cabinet against the back of my skull. It doesn’t hurt, but I feel like I’m going to combust right here, as if I might turn into that burning building beneath Coast’s fingers.

“Fuck,” he hisses against my ear. “Tell me you want me, Haze. Tell me you’re mine.”

I don’t say anything, at least not yet. But I do want him. Nothing could make me not want him at this point, I think. Even though I have things to say, I don’t know how to voice them out loud, at least not right now. I open my mouth, then snap my lips closed. Nothing comes out, my throat doesn’t work, my vocal cords are completely shot.

I have nothing.

Except one thing does squeak out. Three little words. Three words that change the trajectory of my entire life. In an instant, my world has not just been flipped upside down, it’s been flipped upside down, shaken, and then turned right side up again. I feel like my head is inside one of those snow globes.

“I’m yours, Coast.”

The words come out, and I can’t take them back, though I don’t think that’s something I want to do. I can feel his lips smile against the shell of my ear while his fingers continue their movements inside me.

My nails dig into the leather at his shoulders. I hope I don’t damage the material, but on the other hand, I don’t give a shit, either. I think about asking him what these vests mean. They’re covered in patches that I have no doubt have some sort of significance, but I decide that I don’t care right now.

They could mean he worships an ancient god, and I would be good with that at this point. In fact, he could pretty much tell me anything right now, with his fingers inside me, his mouth on me, me so close to finding my release, I wouldn’t give a single shit.

“Fuck yeah, you are, baby. All fucking mine.”

His other hand tugs my shorts down, and then his hand is gone, and the head of his cock is pressed against my center.

Oh my god.

I want him inside me right now. Right this second. I don’t think I can wait another moment. I suck in a breath, holding it for a moment with the anticipation of him sliding deep inside me.

“Yeah,” he grinds out. “Fuck yeah, you’re mine.”

And then he slams inside me so hard my eyes pop open and my head bounces against the cabinet door behind me.

Yes.

Oh hell yessss.

CHAPTER

FIFTY-TWO

WRATH

I don’t move immediately. Being inside Elodie feels too goddamn good to even try to move. At least not yet. This moment seems bigger than anything ever has. I’ve just claimed her, not just for the night, but for always. Almost fifty years old, and I never thought to make a woman mine. All mine. But that’s what I want in Elodie. The moment I laid eyes on her, I knew that she wasn’t just going to be the company I hired to clean the clubhouse. She was so much more than that.

And I was right.

She is so much more than just someone I hired.

She’s mine.

My hips begin to move, and I feel her cunt squeeze my cock as I slide almost completely out of her and then slam back inside. I take it slow and hard, watching her eyes widen and listening to her breath hitch with each thrust, each slam into her body.

A body made just for me.

Elodie hitches her legs higher on my hips, pressing her shins against the sides of my ribs as I shift even closer to her, grinding my pelvis against her clit. I look into her eyes, watching as she climbs higher and higher toward her release.