Page 112 of Make Me Yours

Without warning, he pulls back.

“Spread your knees a little wider,” Steele murmurs.

I obey instantly, lost in him and the need thrumming through every inch of me.

There’s the faint, delicious rustle of clothing being shed from behind me. And then the blunt head of his cock, thick and hard, pressing against my entrance.

“Steele,” I choke out as I brace on my elbows, shaking so badly I can barely hold myself up.

“I’ve got you.”

I can feel the tremor in his body too.

He’s just as aroused and desperate.

And he’s holding it all back for me.

He teasingly drags the head of his cock across my slit, gathering every drop of wetness, as if to savor it. His body quivers as he fights to restrain himself.

“I need you to tell me if it’s too much,” he rasps against my ear. “If you need me to slow down or stop, just say the word.”

His hand sweeps down my back in a soothing caress that grounds me.

“I won’t,” I say, my voice barely audible over the thundering beat of my heart. “I need you, Steele.”

A broken sound, half groan, half something almost like a prayer, rips from him. And then, finally, he pushes inside me.

I gasp, my hands fisting the sheets as he stretches me, fills me inch by careful inch, his body shaking against mine.

“Fuck, baby,” he grits out, forehead pressed to my shoulder. “You feel sogood. So damn good.”

I whimper, arching into him, needing more, needing all of him.

“Do you feel how deep I am inside you?” he asks, voice like gravel and sin. “Every stroke designed to worship you. Drown you in pleasure. That’s all I want is to give you so much bliss you’ll never be able to live without it again. I’m going to ruin you for anyone else. One devastating thrust at a time.”

My hips shift instinctively, silently begging him to make good on that promise.

And Steele gives it to me, driving deeper until there’s no space left between us.

Until I’m so full of him that it feels like we were made for this.

He builds a rhythm that has my toes curling and moans tumbling out unchecked. Every drag of his cock makes me feel adored, fucked, claimed. He hits something deep inside me that makes my vision blur and my fingers clench in the sheets.

“You’re taking me so damn good,” he groans. “This pussy was made for me.”

I can’t argue.

Even more than that, I don’t want to.

Because it feels true.

His pace builds.

Faster.

Harder.

My body meets each piston with equal desperation. His grip on my hips tightens as he pounds into me, relentless and perfect. My skin is damp, my thighs shaking, and I know I’m close.