Page 1 of Overruled

Dani

“This is the last time.”

I can feel his chuckle against my throat, the scrape of his teeth following after just before he soothes the mark with his tongue. “You said that last time.”

The warm press of his chest covers the length of my spine as he curls over me, and I grit my teeth when I feel his hands sliding around my hips, his fingers digging into my skin as I arch beneath him.

I don’t give him the satisfaction of a response—it only makes him more intolerable—instead giving him a silent urge to keep going as I push back against the hot length of his cock, which slots between my legs.

I should make it less easy, I know that; there is nothing I hate more than knowing it’s so easy for him to make me fall apart—but that’s a conundrum I haven’t been able to figure out in the months we’ve been doing this.

Hell, Ezra Hart might as well be a fucking glitch in the Matrix for how much I don’t understand about his infuriating appeal.

My lips part when I feel him nudge against me, the thick head easing against my core in a slow, frustrating tease.

And Ezra, being the absolute dick that he is, immediately catches on to my impatience.

“You in a hurry, Dani?”

“You’re a fucking asshole.”

Another soft laugh caught in the bend of my neck as his nose traces back and forth there. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Stop fucking teasing me,” I huff.

He feathers a barely there kiss against my shoulder, and I can practically feel him grinning, the bastard. “Just savoring. Might be the last time, right?”

“ Will be the last time,” I grind out.

“Mm. Sure.”

I open my mouth to tell him where he can shove his perfect dick—other than in me, of course—but then I feel the slow, maddening stretch of him as he eases inside.

My angry words come out as more of a whimper, and I hate that too.

Hate that I’m here, giving in to this for the umpteenth time, that I’m giving him one more encounter to gloat about when I see him in the light of day.

“I think we both know it won’t be the last time,” he breathes, tightening his grip on my hips.

I hate that he’s probably right.