Page 628 of End Game

The command shoots heat straight through me.

Not because he is dominating me.

Because I can feel how much it costs him to let me do this and still trust me to obey the limits around it.

I move again.

Our bodies find a rhythm gradually.

Slow enough that I feel everything.

The drag and pressure.

The heat of him around me.

The occasional pulse of pain from my own marks whenever my hips shift wrong.

Ronan's hand moves between us and closes around his cock.

Exactly as promised.

He strokes himself while looking at me.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” I breathe, just before my breathing breaks.

His doesn't stay controlled much longer either.

I lean closer until our chests touch, careful to keep my hands where he placed them, and kiss him between movements.

Ronan kisses differently when he is receiving.

Less calculated.

His mouth catches mine almost greedily once, teeth grazing my lower lip before he visibly reins himself back in.

I smile against him.

His hand tightens on my thigh.

“Keep moving.”

“Yes, Sir.” It slips out automatically.

Ronan groans.

The sound goes straight through me.

“Oh, you liked that.”

“Micah.”

I shut up.

Mostly because I am losing my ability to talk anyway.

His body is doing too much to mine.

His face is doing worse.