Page 23 of Love Loathe Devotion (Tightrope #3)

Taking my cock in my fist, I run the sensitive crown through her wet, soaked pussy, bumping against her clit with every pass.

My restraint is on a knife edge, but I want her there on the precipice with me.

I swipe my thumb along her soaked pussy and, keeping her eyes on me, suck the digit into my mouth, savoring the honeyed taste of her desire.

Fuck, she slays me. When I know she’s on the edge, I move my cock to her opening and wait for her to take the lead, though it kills me to do so, but I need this to be her decision.

She hovers above me, thighs trembling slightly as she lines herself up, and I grip her hips, steadying her, guiding her. Our eyes lock, and the look on her face—lust, trust, a flicker of nerves—hits me hard.

“Hey,” I murmur, my voice low and rough. “You okay, baby?”

She nods, breath shaky, lips parted—but I don’t move, not yet. I brush my thumbs gently along her sides, grounding her. “You’re tight, baby. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Her fingers curl around my wrists, and she leans in just a little, eyes locked with mine. “I want this. I want you.”

Still, I keep my hands firm on her hips, guiding her slowly as she starts to lower herself.

The moment I feel the head of my cock slide into her hot, slick heat, I suck in a breath.

She’s gripping me already, and I can feel every inch of her stretch to take me.

I hate that a condom stops me from feeling her soaked pussy against my skin.

“Jesus,” I groan, trying to hold still, but the way she clenches around me, it’s a losing battle. “You feel unreal.”

She sinks down slowly, and I watch every flicker in her expression—her brows knit, a soft gasp slips past her lips—and I lift one hand to stroke her thigh gently. “Talk to me, baby. You need me to stop?”

She shakes her head, biting her lip, eyes glassy with pleasure and intensity. “No,” she whispers. “Don’t stop. I just need… a second.”

I nod, pulling her down against my chest, letting her adjust while I kiss her temple, her jaw, anywhere I can reach. “Take your time,” I murmur against her skin. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And when she finally starts to move, hips rolling slow, deliberate, it’s everything. Every part of me burns for her. Her body lifts like a glorious angel, her hair falling down her back in a waterfall of silk. My palms skim over her hips as she rolls her body, her pussy clenching around my cock.

My hands smooth over her soft, flat belly and up over her ribs to cup her delicious tits in my hands.

She starts to move—slow at first, testing the rhythm, her body adjusting around me inch by inch—and I swear I’ve never felt anything like this.

Every roll of her hips sends a pulse of heat straight through me, and it’s all I can do to keep my grip gentle and not desperate.

“Goddamn,” I breathe, watching her above me, the way her lashes flutter when she sinks a little deeper, her mouth parted on a breathless sigh. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

She braces her hands on my chest, nails digging in just enough to make me feel it, and I love it—every tiny scratch grounds me in how real this is. My hands travel up her thighs, slow and possessive, over the dip of her waist, along the curve of her ass. I can’t stop touching her. Won’t.

Inside, I’m losing it in the best way—every part of her feels like she was made for me. The way she clenches around me, tight and hot, makes it nearly impossible to hold back. But I want to savor this. I need to.

“You feel so fucking good,” I groan, my hands sliding up her back, fingers threading into her hair as I pull her down for a kiss. She meets me halfway, her mouth soft and hungry on mine, our tongues tangling as she rides me deeper, harder, building a rhythm that makes the world fall away.

She’s everything. The way she breathes my name against my lips, the tiny whimper she lets out when I buck my hips up to meet hers—pure, addictive. I want to ruin her for anyone else. I want to be the only name she ever moans like that.

Her body moves like it knows mine—fluid, sensual, perfect. I trail my fingers along her spine again, this time slower, tracing the sweat-slicked skin that’s trembling from the effort, from the pleasure. I palm her breast, thumb circling her nipple until she gasps and rides me harder.

“That’s it, baby,” I growl, voice thick. “Take what you need.”

And fuck, does she. Her pace quickens, her breaths come in short, shaky bursts, and I can feel her tightening around me.

She’s close, I think, every muscle in my body tightening with her rhythm. My hands slide back to her hips, guiding her, helping her grind down just right. I look up at her—flushed, glowing, mine—and I swear I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

“Let go for me,” I whisper, barely able to speak, as I press my thumb to her clit and roll it firmly, my eyes unable to look away from her stunning expression of rapture. “Come on, sweetheart… come for me.”

Her rhythm falters, hips stuttering against mine, and I feel it—the way her whole body begins to tremble, the way she gasps like she’s been holding her breath. Her walls clamp down around me, tight and pulsing, and my grip on her tightens instinctively, holding her through it.

“Oh, fuck—Eddie—” she cries out, voice breaking like a prayer and a curse in one breathless sound.

Her head falls back, hair cascading down her spine as her climax crashes over her, raw and beautiful.

I watch every second of it, mesmerized—the way her body shakes, the way her lips part, the way her chest heaves as she rides the high with everything she has.

“That’s it,” I growl, barely able to form the words. “Look at you... fuck, baby... you’re perfect.”

She clenches around me again and I nearly lose it.

I can’t wait anymore. I need more of her, all of her.

Before her breathing steadies, I shift, gripping her thighs and rolling us until I’m on top, her back against the mattress, legs still wrapped around my waist. My mouth crashes down on hers in a kiss that’s messy, unrestrained, possessive.

“Now it’s my turn,” I murmur against her lips, my voice rough and low and nothing but need. “I need to feel you come around me again. I need to be deeper.”

I pull back just enough to thrust into her, hard and smooth, burying myself completely. Her eyes go wide, her lips part on a moan that punches straight through my chest, and something snaps inside me.

I start to move—fast, relentless, each thrust driving deeper, harder. My restraint is gone, burned away by the way she feels, the way she tastes, the way she gives herself to me.

“Shit,” I hiss, my forehead pressed to hers, sweat beading at my temple. “You’re so fucking tight. So wet. I can’t get enough of you.”

Every thrust makes the bed rock beneath us, and her hands claw at my back, pulling me closer, holding on like she wants me to stay inside her forever.

“You were made for this,” I growl into her ear, my voice breaking now. “For me. You feel that? How deep I am? That’s mine. You’re mine.”

Her moans are helpless now, and I can feel her close again—so damn responsive, every movement drawing more out of her.

“Come again, baby,” I whisper, hips pounding into her with a rhythm that borders on frantic. “Let go for me one more time. I’m right behind you. I need to feel it—I need to feel you fall apart on me.”

And I’m barely holding on, chasing the edge like it’s oxygen, completely consumed by her.

She tightens around me again, her breath catching in a strangled moan that lets me know she’s right on the edge. I thrust harder, deeper, pushing her right over it.

She shatters beneath me—body trembling, mouth open in a silent cry before she gasps out my name. Her nails rake down my back, dragging me deeper as she convulses around me, and the way she milks me—tight and pulsing, soaking wet—it tears the last thread of control from me.

“Fuck—fuck—” I groan, voice strained as I slam into her one final time and spill into the condom, my entire body locking up.

Pleasure explodes through me, white-hot and all-consuming, stealing my breath, my mind, everything.

I bury my face in her neck, lost in the heat of her, in the sound of her soft, broken whimpers beneath me.

We’re both panting, chests heaving, bodies slick with sweat, tangled together in a mess of limbs and breath and heat. For a long second, I just stay there—inside her, on top of her, listening to the wild rhythm of our hearts slowing in sync.

“Holy shit,” I whisper against her skin, still catching my breath. “You wrecked me.”

She gives a little laugh—soft, breathless—and I feel her fingers slide up into my hair, gentle now, soothing. I press a kiss to her neck, then her cheek, then finally her lips—slow this time. Tender. Grateful.

I ease out of her gently, murmuring, “Hold on,” as I take care of the condom quickly and come back to her, pulling the blanket up around us as I settle beside her. She immediately curls into me, her leg sliding over mine, her hand resting against my chest like it belongs there.

And it does. God, it does.

I hold her close, my fingers brushing through her hair, across her back, slow and lazy. Her body is warm and pliant against me, and every part of me wants to stay like this. No rush. No words are needed.

“You okay?” I ask softly, kissing the top of her head.

She nods against my chest. “Better than okay.”

I smile into her hair, my arms tightening around her.

Sleep starts to tug at the edges of us, soft and heavy. Her breathing evens out first, slow and peaceful. I close my eyes, feeling her heartbeat against mine, and think, if I could stop time right here, I would.

Because this—her in my arms, our bodies tangled and spent, hearts still echoing the same rhythm—this feels like the most honest thing I’ve ever known.