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“And now?” I hum against her neck.

“You’re getting warmer.” She pants, already out of breath.

I abruptly withdraw my hand, not giving her time to object, before I quickly replace it with the tip of my cock edging at her entrance.

“Is this what you want?” I press in an inch, damn near losing my ability to hold back at the feel of her.

“Mm-hmm.” She nods, pressing her lips together.

“This?” I press forward a couple more inches.

“Yes.” She groans, arching her back in an effort to force me deeper.

“So greedy.”

“Yes,” she unapologetically agrees.

Fuck if I don’t love her like this. Red hair splayed across the pillow. Perfect breasts on full display. Her arousal so clear in her expression that it nearly has me spilling my load before I’m even fully inside of her.

“More?”

She nods.

I oblige.

“More?” I ask again.

Her eyes open and meet mine.

“I want it all.”

My restraint snaps in an instant, and I plunge the rest of the way inside. The groan that works its way up my throat before spilling past my lips is one of pure animalistic need.

My mouth finds hers, kissing her so deeply that I’m able to swallow every moan and whimper of her pleasure until I’ve taken everything her body can give me, and then I take a little bit more because I am a selfish fucking man who simply cannot get enough.

And when I empty my release inside her, the feel of her climax still spasming around me, I feel euphoric. Like a junkiethat just injected liquid gold into my veins, my entire body feeling the effects.

What I said earlier feels even more prominent now.

Charlotte O’Malley is my new favorite addiction. And one, for the life of me, I don’t know if I’ll ever break free from.

“Tell me something I don’t already know,” Charlotte says sometime later as we lie in bed, naked limbs tangled together, skin still damp from another round.

“Something you don’t already know...” I think about that for a long moment, having more trouble than I should coming up with something, which should tell you just how much I shared with her over our months of texts and calls. “I think people who eat pineapple on pizza are wired wrong,” I say the first thing that comes to mind.

“Seriously? That’s the best you could come up with?” She lays a soft smack to my stomach.

“You already know so much about me,” I admit.

“And yet, I feel like I don’t know nearly enough.” She glances up at me, eyes so bright that I’m convinced I could lose myself in them if I let myself.

“What do you want to know?” I twist a strand of soft, auburn hair around my finger.

“Everything.”

“Everything, huh?”

Her stomach growls so loudly that I could hear it even if I were standing across the room.