Page 200 of Empire State Enemies

This is what I’ve been craving since I left New York. This is what I’ve wanted every night since I left New York. I wouldn’tadmit it to myself, but I was sexually repressed, and no one could scratch that itch. Only him.

My hand finds his throbbing cock, and I let out a lustful moan at the feel of him pulsing in my grip.

He returns the favor by slipping a finger inside me, causing me to moan even louder. A sexy game of tit for tat.

“I’ve missed you so much, my angel,” he growls with lust in his eyes as he starts going to town down there. “Missed those eyes. That heart-shaped face.”

I’m his angel now. I like the addition.

We haven’t even made it a foot from his front door yet.

“Me too,” I rasp, but it comes out as another moan rather than coherent words.

“Baby, I can’t wait,” he breathes hotly against my skin. “I can’t wait any fucking longer. I have to take you right here.”

He presses me up against the wall, lifting me into his arms before thrusting himself inside me.

I gasp at the intense sensation of pleasure mixed with pain, my nails digging into his back for support.

He stills, waiting for me to relax.

I’ve never been banged against a wall before. Now I’m thinking we should bang against every wall of his house. Seven bedrooms means plenty of options.

Maybe not the plunge pool room though.

He thrusts into me, groaning like he’s been dying for this for months—a feeling I can relate to.

All that built-up sexual frustration is finally being released for both of us, and it feels amazing.

“I love you, Alexa Sullivan,” he grunts, his intense gaze piercing through me as he pounds into me.

“I . . . love . . . you . . . too,” I pant, my tits bouncing with each thrust. From now on, I’m hitting the gym harder so I can multi-task talking and fucking simultaneously. Because I’m going to be doing a lot more of this.

???

My fingers dance over his stomach, tracing the lines of his abs and hipbones and the trail of hair that leads down to his cock.

He chuckles, his muscles jumping under my touch. “Hey, that tickles.”

“Sorry,” I laugh, but I’m not sorry at all.

I can’t stop touching him. Or looking at him.

I want to watch him sleep all night. I want to see those long, giraffe-like lashes flutter, those lips part in silent dreams, and that ridiculously sexy wolf tattoo heave with every breath.

I’ll be disappointed in myself if I fall asleep.

Christ, I sound like a psycho.

We’ve fucked maybe one billion times tonight, and it must be 4 a.m. What a night.

Connor looks just as exhausted but blissfully happy as me.

He’s sprawled out next to me, one arm propped behind his head like he’s posing for a Calvin Klein ad and the other slung possessively around me.

And I swear to god, I’m so happy to be in his arms, so content, that I could almost kiss his armpit with its dark fuzz.

That’s how deeply I’ve fallen for this man. I’ve reached the point where I’m willing to nuzzle his underarm like it’s the most erotic thing in the world.