Page 114 of Lawless Rivals

“Me either,” I whisper.

And then he kisses me again.

His weight pins me flat to the couch, heavy and perfect, crushing every shred of resistance we’ve clung to.

I’m breathing hard beneath him, my jumper twisted up around my ribs, his shirt fisted in my hands.

His cock presses thick and rock-hard against my clit through both our jeans, grinding against it.

A needy whimper escapes my throat, and I spread my legs wider for more.

“Fuck,” he hisses against my mouth, voice rough. “Knowing you aren’t wearing a bra under this jumper drives me fucking insane.”

His tongue dips inside my mouth in a rhythm that matches the roll of his hips. I arch up into him, legs wrapping tighter around his waist, heels digging into the backs of his thighs.

Every drag of rough denim against my clit makes me wetter, aching, desperate.

He pulls back and in one swift motion grabs the hem of my jumper, yanks it up and over my head.

Cool air hits my bare breasts before his hands are on them, squeezing, thumbs brushing over my stiff nipples.

Then his fingers attack his shirt buttons. They pop open one by one, revealing the hard planes of his chest, the ridges of his abs, that delicious trail of hair leading into his boxers.

God, he’s beautiful—broad shoulders flexing, inked muscles tight as he arches over me.

Skin to skin now, his chest burning against my breasts. I moan at the contact, nails raking across his back.

“That’s it, princess.” He rocks harder, grinding his cock against me. “Mark me.”

He’s already working his belt, the metallic clink sending a fresh rush of heat through me.

Between us, I lift my hips and unzip my jeans, shoving them as far as I can manage with his weight on me.

“Fuck… I’ve been dying to have ya naked again,” he rasps, mouth at my neck, sucking a mark that’ll bruise tomorrow. “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve jerked off thinking about this exact fucking thing.”

Sitting back, he drags my jeans to my ankles in rough, impatient tugs, his knuckles grazing my thighs.

“Lift,” he orders.

The second my hips rise, he hooks his fingers under my panties and pulls them off, tossing the fabric away. He gets to his feet for a beat, frees himself from his jeans, his thick cock springing out—hard, flushed, the head glistening.

My pussy clenches at the sight of him.

In a racing heartbeat, he’s on the couch again, draping one of my legs over his arm, spreading me wide open, and running the heavy length of his cock through my wet folds.

The crown teases my swollen clit until I’m shaking and whimpering.

“Just do it,” I pant. “Do it already.”

He captures his lower lip between his teeth and locks eyes with me. At the same time, he fists his cock and positions it at my entrance, not pushing all the way in.

“Saint.” I gasp, voice cracking. “Inside me. Now.”

A low, satisfied rumble moves through his chest when he pushes in deep, burying himself.

The stretch is so good it steals my breath. I cry out, nails digging into his shoulders as my walls clamp around his thick cock.

“Fuck, Keira.” He groans, forehead pressed to mine. “It shouldn’t feel this fucking good.”