Page 43 of Her Possessive Biker
Our house. Our life. Our damn future.
The place is quiet, soft with the hush of night settling in. Warm light spills across the floor. Lucy trots in ahead of us like she owns the place, leaps onto her perch, and curls up without a care in the world.
Cassie turns to face me. Her smile? It’s slow. Wicked. Beautiful.
Like she’s been planning this moment all day.
“Holt,” she says, voice pure sin wrapped in silk, “take me on this counter.”
That’s it. That’s all it takes.
Whatever self-control I’ve got left shatters like glass.
I cross the space in two steps, hands already on her. I strip the dress from her body like it offended me just by touching her—lace and silk falling away until she’s bare in my arms, breath catching, eyes burning with the same need that’s been killing me since sunrise.
I tear off my own clothes in a blur. No finesse. No patience. Just raw urgency.
Because I’ve been waiting all damn day.
She gasps when I lift her onto the counter, her legs wrapping around me like instinct, like home. I line us up, and when I finally slide my cock into her pussy, it’s like the world rights itself.
She moans. Soft, sweet, desperate.
My hips jerk, and I sink deeper, jaw clenched so tight it aches. Her body welcomes me like she was made for this. Made for me.
“Oh God,” she breathes.
I kiss her. Hard. It’s rough and messy and not even close to enough. She tastes like champagne and heat and everything I’ll never deserve but refuse to give up.
I move faster. Deeper. My hands locked on her waist, holding her steady while she clutches at my shoulders like she’s barely holding on.
Her breathy little moans come faster now. Rhythmic, addictive.
And I lose it. I whisper her name. Groan it. Grunt it like a prayer.
I reach down between us, fingers finding her clit. I circle it, and she shatters.
Her whole body goes taut. She cries out my name and clenches around me, dragging me straight over the edge with her.
A few more thrusts and I’m gone too. Buried deep, pulsing with the kind of release that steals breath and thought and everything else I was holding onto.
When it’s over, she’s still clinging to me. Like I’m the only thing keeping her upright.
Maybe I am.
She leans in close, presses her mouth to my ear, and whispers—
“Thank you.”
My chest tightens. I pull her in closer. Bury my face in her neck.
“You don’t thank me for this, Angel,” I murmur. “I'm yours and you’re mine.”
***
THE END