Page 65 of Nine Week Nanny

His mouth covers my breast, tongue circling a nipple before closing hard around it. A moan tears from me, fingers digginginto his shoulders. The scrape of his stubble against sensitive skin lights me up in jagged sparks.

“I need these off,” I gasp, tugging at his briefs. “Now.”

He grins against my skin, then straightens. We strip together, tearing at what’s left until nothing is between us but heat and the rush of breath. Moonlight washes over us, pale on skin, sharp on need.

“I want you inside me,” I whisper against his mouth.

He reaches for the nightstand, pulls out a condom. I tear it open with my teeth and roll it down him, my hand closing over every thick inch. His cock jerks under my touch, heavy and impatient.

He lifts me, my legs wrapping around his waist, and carries me to the bed. When he lowers me onto the sheets, his body hovers close enough to radiate heat without relief.

“I want to take my time,” Pope whispers against my collarbone. “Every inch of you.”

His mouth traces a path down my body, lips claiming each new place. My back arches when his tongue circles my nipple, wet heat flooding through me.

“You taste better than I remembered,” he murmurs.

My fingers bury in his hair as he moves lower, the burn of stubble across my stomach making me twitch. “Pope…”

His eyes lift, dark and ravenous. “Say it again.”

“Pope.” My voice is broken, begging.

A ghost of a smile curves his lips before he settles between my thighs.

“Since you asked nicely.”

The first drag of his tongue rips a gasp out of me. He licks me slowly, deliberately, like he wants to memorize how my body shudders.

“Fuck, taste so good,” he growls against me. “I’ve thought about tasting you like this since that night.”

My hips rise into him, chasing. When his finger slides inside, curling hard against a spot that makes me jerk, my head thuds against the pillow.

“That’s it,” he urges. “Give it to me, Sloane. Break for me. Yell for me.”

When it crashes, it’s brutal and consuming, every nerve sparking until I’m screaming his name.

He climbs my body, mouth hot against mine as he pushes inside. Thick, stretching, going deep until my cry breaks the kiss. He holds still, staring down at me, chest heaving.

“You grip me like you were made for this.” His voice cracks. “God.”

I tighten around him, my legs hooking his hips to drag him closer. He keeps a slow rhythm at first, then faster when I whisper for more.

His pace builds, every thrust hammering through me, my body straining for release. Sweat slicks our skin, sliding together, nothing between us but raw heat.

“Like this?” His voice rasps against my neck.

“Yes. Harder.”

He shifts, changing the angle, driving into a place that detonates inside me. I claw his back, panting, stars flashing behind my eyelids.

“Yeah, just like that,” he groans, voice rough. “So fucking good.”

The rhythm falters. “I’m not going to last.”

I slip my hand between us, circling myself where we’re joined. “Come with me.”

His eyes lock with mine, and the intimacy of it wrecks me as much as his thrusts.