Page 46 of Racing for Redemption (Backmarker Love trilogy #1)

He quickly finds the buttons of my blouse, working them open with surprising dexterity. I pull back, breathing hard.

“Sit up,” I command.

He does, immediately, and I tug at his shirt.

He helps me pull it over his head, revealing more of his tattoos—intricate designs that flow over his shoulders, down his arms, and one on his neck.

I trace a big piece on his bicep with my fingertip, following its path across his skin.

He leans against the headboard, his gaze soft as he looks at me.

“You like tattoos?” he asks, voice rough.

“I do.” Especially yours —yet, I don't say it.

He reaches for me again, sliding his hands up my sides to the edge of my bra. His touch is teasing, questioning. I respond by grinding down against him, feeling his erection straining against his jeans.

His sharp inhale is music to my ears. He tightens his grip on my waist.

“ Fuck , Violet.”

“That’s the idea,” I say, and I’m shocked by my own boldness, my own hunger.

I reach between us, find his belt, unbuckle it with quick, practiced movements. The button of his jeans next, then the zipper. He watches me, eyes hooded, lips parted, breathing ragged.

“Be a good boy,” I tell him, “and enjoy the ride.”

A flash of teeth as he grins. “Yes, boss.” Then, lower, “But don’t think I’m always this accommodating.” He trails his hands along my neck and down my lower back, eventually cupping my ass. "I also like control."

I slip my hand into his boxers, wrapping my fingers around him.

He’s hot and hard and perfect. Forget about those guys in romance novels that are massive.

William's cock is the right size, nothing exaggerated—just like his height—and I absolutely love it.

I explore him slowly, base to tip, learning what makes his breath hitch, what makes his eyes close.

His eyes closing as pleasure runs through him does things to me.

His arms come around me, holding me close as I work him. I feel the moment his control slips, the way his body tenses, the way his breathing changes.

“Violet—” he warns, but I don’t stop.

He comes with a strangled moan, as he buries his face in my neck, his arms tight around me. The wet heat of his release, the pulsing of him against my palm, sends a shock of satisfaction through me.

After a moment, he laughs—a breathless, wonder-filled sound.

“That was not how I pictured this going,” he admits, looking down at the mess in his boxers.

“No?” I can’t help but smile, feeling satisfied, wanted, and alive.

“Usually, I last longer than a teenager at his first dance.” He kisses me softly, then with more intent. “But don’t worry. I’m just getting started.”

I believe him. This tension, this hunger—it’s nowhere near resolved. One night might not be enough to get him out of my system.

William’s face softens as he looks at me, his eyes filled with something beyond just satisfied desire. The tight control he normally keeps slips away, revealing a softness I haven’t seen before. He reaches up to trace my jawline, and I realize he’s not just looking at me—he’s memorizing me .

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, voice raw. “So fucking beautiful. Inside and out.”

I should feel embarrassed by the intensity of his gaze, but instead, I feel powerful. Seen. Cared for. His boxers are ruined, but he doesn’t seem to care, focusing entirely on me.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I reply, trying to maintain the light, casual tone this encounter is supposed to have.

He holds my sides and brings us chest to chest as he rests me on his lap. He embraces me, no longer sexual, but protective. His soft lips are on my neck, pressing feather-soft kisses along the column of my throat.

“I’ve wanted this,” he murmurs against my skin, his breath and baritone voice doing things to me. “Wanted you. But not just like this.”

“What do you mean?” My voice catches as he slides his hands up to my bra clasp.

“I mean”—he unclasps it with a practiced flick of his fingers—“that I want to take my time with you. Not just get off as quick as I can. I only allow quickness on track.”

My bra loosens, and he slides the straps down my arms. The cool air hits my exposed skin, sending goosebumps racing across my flesh. William’s breath catches.

“Perfect,” he breathes, drinking me in. There’s nothing clinical or assessing in his gaze—only wonder and hunger. “You leave me breathless, Violet.”

Before I can respond, he pulls me into a tight hug, my bare chest pressed against his. The contact sends electricity crackling between us. His tattoos seem to embrace me, the dark ink a beautiful contrast against my skin. I feel claimed, marked, though he’s barely touched me.

I nuzzle my face into his neck, breathing in his scent—clean sweat, a hint of cologne, and something uniquely him.

The moment feels more intimate than what we just did, more vulnerable.

I pull back, unsure how to process the emotions swirling through me.

No strings attached, Violet. Don't bring unnecessary emotions to this encounter.

His gaze finds mine, questioning. I answer by kissing him, hard, trying to steer us back to simple, physical desire. He moves his hands down to my suit trousers, fingers working at the intricate belt.

“Can I take these off?” he asks, voice rough with want but seeking permission.

“I only do exchanges, so…" I point at his jeans. "Those come off and mine come as well.”

The playful challenge makes him grin, that addictive energy breaking through his intensity like a golden retriever excited about getting a new treat if it behaves. He sets me aside gently and gets up from bed, stripping with an efficiency that makes me laugh.

“Eager much?”

“For the amazing woman in front of me? Always.” He’s naked now, gloriously so, every inch of him on display. His cock is already hardening again, rising under my appreciative gaze .

I rise more slowly, fingers working at my own fastenings. There’s power in making him wait, in watching his gaze track each newly revealed inch of skin. By the time I stand before him, completely nude, his breathing has quickened.

I’m not shy—never have been about my body. I know what I am; not model-thin, but curved in ways that make men look twice. And I'm proud of that. Despite spending a lot of time sitting during meetings, and fully aware I should exercise a bit, I love my body.

William is certainly looking, his focus traveling from my face to my breasts, down the soft curve of my stomach to the junction of my thighs.

“Come here,” he says, voice barely audible.

I step forward, and he pulls me against him, his hands soft on my lower back.

The full-body contact sends a shock through me—skin on skin, his cock pressed against my thigh, his heart thundering against mine.

We’re both panting, overwhelmed by the simple act of being naked together. Talk about being touch starved.

“I want to set the rhythm,” I tell him, needing to maintain some control over this rapidly deepening encounter.

His smile is soft, understanding. “You’re the boss, Violet.”

I push him gently, and he falls back onto the bed. I climb over him, straddling his thighs, feeling powerful and wanted as his eyes darken with desire.

“Wait,” he says suddenly. “Condom. ”

He reaches for his discarded jeans, pulling his wallet from the pocket. I raise an eyebrow, surprised.

“You came prepared?”

“A gentleman is always ready.” He grins, tearing open the packet. “Protection first.”

It takes him seconds to roll the condom on, his movements practiced and sure. I reach for him, guiding his cock toward me, but he touches me first. Circling my clit with gentle pressure, his eyes lock on mine.

“Tell me what you like,” he urges. "I want to make you feel good."

“This is… F-Fuck ,” I stutter, rocking against his hand. “Just like that.”

He watches my face, reading my reactions, adjusting his touch in response to each hitch in my breath, each tiny moan. I’m being studied, learned, mapped by his caring hands and eyes.

I can’t wait any longer. I position myself over him and sink down slowly, taking him inch by inch. We both moan at the sensation—the stretch and fullness, heat and pressure, the pain and pleasure.

“ Fuuuuck .” William gasps, hands gripping my hips. “You feel incredible.”

I begin to move, setting a slow rhythm that builds gradually. He helps guide me with his hands, supporting me, but he lets me control the pace. I roll my hips, finding the angle that sends sparks shooting through my core .

“That’s it,” he encourages, voice strained. “Just like that, Violet.”

I increase the tempo, chasing the building pleasure. William watches me with hooded eyes, his face a study in concentration and awe. I can tell he’s holding back, restraining himself to let me find my pleasure first.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he says, moving one hand from my hip to my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple. “So wet for me. Taking what you want. Taking me.”

His words fuel my desire, pushing me higher. I lean forward, changing the angle, and gasp at the new sensation. With a sudden move, William captures my mouth, his kiss intense and passionate.

“I want you to feel good,” he murmurs against my lips. “Want this to be worth crossing that line.”

I laugh breathlessly. “Trust me, it is.”

“Good.” He slides his hand between us, finding my clit again. “Wouldn’t want bad reviews of my bedroom skills. I'm already under enough scrutiny as a driver; I don't want that in private.”

I let out a chuckle. "You're so goofy sometimes."

"And you love it." He captures my lips again—needy, intense, nibbling at my lower lip.

The combination of his touch and his cock inside me is overwhelming. I’m close, so close , the tension building to an unbearable peak.

“William,” I gasp, my rhythm faltering as pleasure threatens to overtake me.

Something shifts in his expression. He sits up suddenly, arms wrapping around me, changing our position without disconnecting our bodies.