Page 41 of The Reckless Rookie

She laughs once, but it breaks when I move. Slow. All the way out. Back in.

Her fingers curl over the far edge of the counter. The whole kitchen smells like her and me and what we’re doing now. Sex and shampoo and the warm night breathing through the screen.

God, I love it. Every part.

I hold still for one hard thrust, buried deep, feeling her around me and her breathing under my hand.

Then I do the thing I couldn’t have done a month ago. I go slow. Not because I’ve mastered anything. I haven’t. Because I finally know there’s more here if I don’t sprint at it. And I want all of it.

I make it maybe four strokes. Then the wanting gets louder than the lesson, and my hips pick up without me deciding to. Faster. Chasing.

Catt feels it immediately. Her hand comes back and catches my wrist where my fingers grip her hip. Not pulling me closer, holding the pace. I understand, and slow down.

“Despacio.”

I close my eyes. Slow down. Wait. Feel where she’s going.

I ease back to the pace she gave me. The slowing almost hurts.

Then she pushes back to meet me and a sound tears out of my chest.

“There,” she breathes.

I move again. She follows. Or maybe I follow her. Half a second. Same as the dance.

Her hips tell me where she wants me before she says anything, and for a little while I manage it. Slow. Deep. Her body moving with mine instead of me trying to drag us both toward the finish.

Then I find the angle she wants and her whole body changes beneath me. Her back tightens. Her breathing goes shallow. The laugh disappears completely.

I feel it before I understand it. She’s close.

My hand slides around her waist, across her stomach.

“Catt.”

“Don’t you dare stop.”

That voice. God.

I keep the rhythm.

She reaches farther across the counter, fingers locking around the edge. Her heels dig into the floor. Her thighs go tight, then tighter, and her back arches and she comes hard around me.

My name breaks out of her. Not spoken. Torn loose.

Her body contracts around my cock and whatever control I had left disappears.

“Fuck, Catt.”

I drive into her once. Twice.

She’s still coming, still gripping me, still saying my name like it means something I’m not ready to look at too closely.

That takes me over. I come with my forehead dropping between her shoulder blades, my whole body going rigid behind her.

For a second I don’t know where I am. Just her. The counter under my hand. Her body around mine. My heart trying to punch through my ribs.

Then everything starts coming back. The fan. The warm night. Her breathing. Mine.