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“I…can’t.” Pleasure shudders through me like a thousand sparks beneath my skin. I squeeze my eyes shut, desperate to hold on, trying to focus on anything but the sharp edge building inside me.

“Now who’s not behaving?” His voice is a dark tease. He bumps his hips, and I take him in my mouth again, deeper this time, driven by his voice, his hands, him .

He groans, low and filthy, and adds another finger, curling to hit the spot that scrambles my thoughts. I whimper, gag, and pull back, then push forward again with a broken moan.

His hand tightens on my hip, anchoring me in place while his tongue circles my clit with diabolical precision. I buck against him, a gasp caught in my throat, then freeze, afraid I’ll hurt him. He answers with another firm squeeze, then sucks harder.

God, he knows . Every inch of me. Every trigger. Exactly what to do to unravel me, while I’m struggling to keep rhythm with my hands and mouth, too overwhelmed to return the pleasure.

“Jensen.” His name spills from my lips in a broken gasp.

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow. Just holds me there and devours me like I’m his favorite meal.

Pleasure crashes over me, sharp and blinding. I shatter against him, and all I can do is cling and ride it out until I collapse, limp and shaking.

He pats my ass with a smug, satisfied grunt. “I win.”

Breathless, I try to reclaim a shred of dignity after losing so easily. I wrap my hand around him again, stroking slow, savoring the way his body tenses, how his groan vibrates all the way through me.

“No.” He flips me off him with an ease that makes me gasp. “Come kneel next to the bed for me.”

I scramble off the mattress, eager and already aching for more. He shifts with a grimace, gingerly sitting up and tossing a pillow on the floor at his feet.

I drop to my knees, bracing one hand on his uninjured leg for balance. My other hand wraps around his cock, firm this time, no teasing. I lick my lips and lean in, mouth wide, determined.

“That’s my girl.” He brushes his knuckles over my cheek, then gathers my hair in one hand. “Get me nice and wet.”

The way he watches me, focused and darkly reverent, sends a shiver down my spine. I work harder, trying to force a reaction, wanting to earn his groans of approval.

“Good girl.” His voice turns rougher as he tightens his grip and pulls me off with a wet pop.

“What?” I blink up, lips swollen, chest heaving.

He surges forward and crushes his mouth to mine. A brutal, possessive kiss that melts every worry from my brain. He releases my hair and grabs my breasts, squeezing, molding. “Come closer.”

I shuffle forward on my knees, pressing myself against the side of the bed.

“That’s it.” He slides his cock between my breasts, slick from my mouth, and thrusts. “Fuck, your tits are perfect. Give me your hands.”

He slows, guiding my hands over my chest, encouraging me to hold myself for him. I toss my hair over one shoulder and arch my back, presenting myself.

“Fuck, yeah,” he breathes out. “Just like that.” His hips roll forward, thrusting harder until the head of his cock grazes my chin. I squeeze my breasts tighter, pushing them around him, and open my mouth, licking him each time he gets close enough.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growls. “Stick your tongue out.”

Breath tearing from his lungs, he pumps faster, more erratic. An animalistic groan rips from his chest as he comes, hot and thick over my breasts and neck.

I blink my eyes open and find him watching me with a lazy, satisfied half smile. “Thank you,” he says, voice rough but full of affection.

His gaze drops to where I’m still holding my breasts. A crooked grin tugs at his lips. “I like you like that.”

He threads his fingers through my hair, pulling me into a slow, tender kiss. “Thank you.”

Leaning over, he scoops his shorts off the floor and wipes the cooling mess from my chest. His touch is surprisingly gentle, like he’s handling something precious.

I tap his knee. “Let me look at your leg.”

“I’m fine.” He stands, jaw tightening as he takes a cautious step forward.

“You shouldn’t have been thrusting so hard,” I scold, using the nightstand to push myself up from the floor. “At least it looks like no blood seeped through the bandage.”

“See? Told you I’m fine.” He grins, cocky as ever, but there’s still a flicker of pain in his eyes he can’t quite hide.

“You don’t have to be all macho with me, you know.” I swat his butt.

“I’m not. I felt fine…until I stood up.” His grin fades into a frown. “What’s wrong?”

My eyes drift to the bed, heat creeping into my cheeks. “Am I not good at that? Why didn’t you let me finish?”

His brows knit. “Good at what?”

“You know…” I wave a hand vaguely. “That.”

“Sucking my cock?”

“Yes.”

He cradles the back of my head with his hand and pulls me closer, kissing my forehead. “Margot, you’re fucking incredible. Your body’s like Disneyland; I get so crazed I can’t decide which way I want to dirty you up first.”

I blink, then hold his gaze. “I don’t feel dirty with you.”

His teasing expression softens into something reverent.

“I love doing dirty things with you, though.” I force a bright smile, holding back all the other things in my head.

Dirty—never. I feel whole, seen, understood, cherished. A whole lot of things I never thought were even possible until we met.