Page 101 of The Heartbreaker

It was a noise that set the whole mood.

The sound vibrated through my chest, making my nipples even harder than they already had been.

“You have no idea how tight you are.” His forehead pressed against mine. “How wet.” He wrapped his fingers around my breast and grazed my nipple. “How fucking perfect.” The rubbing turned to a pinch, followed by a pull.

I left his shoulders and held on to his upper arms; the muscles felt like rocks beneath my nails.

“Ridge!” I gasped in some air as he reared his hips back, making me instantly miss the fullness until he thrust back in. “Yes!”

Since he no longer had to hold me, he had the use of both hands, and one went to my face, his thumb tracing my lips before it dipped into my mouth.

I sucked on it—the tip, the base, the length—like it was his dick.

And then I moaned even louder than he just had, his thumb popping out in time for me to shout, “Harder!”

“Do you know what you’re asking for?”

His movements were steady, and there was nothing soft about them.

But I wanted more.

I wanted his power.

I wanted to feel it through my entire body.

“Yes,” I said, drawing out the word. “And I want it faster.”

“You’re a naughty fucking girl, Addison.”

When his hand disappeared from my face, I anticipated where I would feel it next, especially as his speed began to pick up. When his grunts were filling the room, when the wetness and bubbles from the bath were starting to mix with the sweat on his body.

What I didn’t anticipate was how it would feel when it landed on my clit.

“Fuck!” The back of my head hit the mirror. Not hard enough for it to break, just enough for it to make a sound. “Yes!”

“You want more?”

“Always.”

“Bend your knees, Addison. Wrap your toes around the counter.”

I followed his order, quickly realizing this new position gave me everything I’d been begging him for. Because now that my legs weren’t around him and they were spread a bit more, there was nothing holding him back; he could reach the farthest part of me.

A spot beyond what he had hit before.

But he didn’t just tap it, like his crown was the beak of a woodpecker, knocking endlessly. Instead, he stroked his tip across it, like there was a knot that he was massaging out, and when he drew back, he rotated his hips, caressing my walls, adding even more friction.

Nothing I was feeling was normal.

This was something on a whole new level.

“Oh! My!” I screamed, eventually following that with, “God!”

“You’re going to come.”

I didn’t know how he knew, but there hadn’t been a time when he was wrong.

This was no exception.