Page 22 of Cold Foot Revenge (Wreck’s Mountains #7)

That man went to work, but she noticed something important about him right away.

He was testing what she liked, driving in to her hard, then shallow, adjusting as she clawed her nails on his back, or paying attention to the noises she made.

When she told him, “Right there,” he grinned into their kiss and stroked into her harder, just the way she needed it.

The pressure was building and building inside of her, and it felt so good.

“I don’t want it to stop,” she uttered mindlessly. “Please don’t stop.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised, and she knew he did. She knew he wouldn’t finish before her. She knew what he’d been doing, testing different paces, touching her in different places. He was learning her body.

Had she found it? Had she found him? Had she found a man who got off on giving orgasms? She’d never finished with a man before but tonight was different. It felt different. It felt bigger.

The bite on her collarbone was burning under the splash of warm water, but she didn’t care. He was slamming into her with such raw power, and she was crying out mindlessly over and over now, so close.

She’d never gotten this far before with a man. She’d never finished like this. “Dylan! Fuck, right there!”

Oh, he knew what he was doing. He didn’t hesitate or change pace. He drove into her over and over just perfectly.

He grabbed her hand and pressed it above her head on the wet shower tiles as he rammed into her, jerking her body with his thrusts. He gripped her hand so hard, and she held his back in desperation.

“Come for me,” he demanded, and oh what those words did to her.

She closed her eyes, and her body gripped his cock with the first pulses of absolute pleasure. She screamed out as he slammed into her harder. Her orgasm had never been like this when she’d taken care of herself. It had never felt so body-shattering. It had never lasted so long or felt so good.

“Good,” he gritted out, and then pushed the shower curtain to the side, ripped a towel off the rack, and threw it on the ground. “Hands and knees,” he said.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. She would do literally anything he asked right now. She loved how in control and confident he was like this. He wanted her from behind? Good.

She fell to her knees and then rested on her elbows, her ass in the air for him.

He slid into her, and she was still pulsing from her orgasm.

She cried out at how big he was, but the stretch felt so damn good.

He locked his arm next to her cheek, and she rested there, on his forearm as he drove into her.

Her tits were bouncing against the towel as he fucked her.

And then he did something she didn’t understand.

He reached around the front of her and pressed his fingers right above where he was sliding into her.

Oh, that felt good. Holy shit, that felt really good!

The pressure started building again instantly with his hand pressing right there, and now she was getting close again.

“Dylan?” she asked desperately.

“I’m here,” he rumbled, his chest warm against her back.

“Dylan?” she said louder.

“Come on,” he gritted out, slamming into her. “Fuck, I can’t stop. Roxy, you feel so fucking good, I can’t stop.”

And something about the desperation in his words tipped her over the edge.

She yelled as her release crashed through her again.

He bucked into her deeply, and warmth was filling her in strong pulses, and gah, this was everything.

He was releasing into her, connecting with her, filling her with himself while she finished again.

She’d never felt so close to anyone in her entire life, and she gasped out his name as he jerked into her, dragging out their releases.

His weight was a solid comfort as he gripped the back of her hair and massaged gently. He muttered a curse over and over as his aftershocks went on, and she closed her eyes against the smile that took her lips.

Her body was completely sated as he pulled his cock from her, and she stayed there on her elbows and knees as his cum streamed down her thighs. She swayed gently, still feeling the buzz from the high as he turned on the sink.

“Don’t move,” he murmured as he stroked a wet washcloth up her thighs and cleaned her.

“You don’t have to do that,” she murmured, trying to remember how to even move her body.

“I want to,” he said low.

She rolled to the side and lay on her hip, staring up at him. His six pack was flexed, and his adonis belt muscles at his hips were chiseled. His big dick was half-mast. She’d never seen a man look so masculine as him.

She loved every single thing about his body.

“I’ve never…” she said as she watched him grab another washcloth and run it under warm water.

“You’ve never what?” he asked.

“Finished. I mean with another person.”

His bright blue eyes slid to her, and a wicked smile took his masculine lips. “I’ll get you every time.”

“Truth,” she whispered, stunned. She’d always thought something was wrong with her, or that she was damaged somehow, but with Dylan, she didn’t feel broken at all.

She ran her fingertips over her swollen bitemark.

It was acting up and burning. Did he know what he’d done?

Did he understand he’d just gotten her addicted to him.

Already she was thinking about where he would fuck her next.

The bed? The small table near the front door?

She wanted more, and she wasn’t even done with this high yet.

The towel bunched under her as he sat against the wall and dragged her against his chest, facing away from him. He pressed the washcloth against her bite mark, and as she began to come to, she knew why. It smelled like wet pennies in here now. She was bleeding.

“I don’t know why it’s doing this,” she whispered in the quiet, pressing her hand against his, holding the cloth tighter on the mark.

“Yeah, you do.”

She frowned to herself and nuzzled her head against his chest. “You barely bit me and that was hours ago. I don’t know why it’s doing this,” she repeated.

“Because you belong to me.” His words were so simple and held such conviction.

Her heart pounded as he hugged her tighter against his chest.

Because you belong to me.

Truth.