Page 94 of The Revenge Game

My hands grip his hips, trying desperately to ground myself when everything feels like it’s spinning out of control.

Drew’s head falls back, exposing the line of his throat where I can see his pulse racing beneath flushed skin. His dark hair iswild from my fingers, his eyes squeezed shut, his lips bitten red and parted on shaky breaths.

He starts to move. Holy god, my entire body feels like I’ve discovered a new dimension of pleasure, one that would definitely require a warning label and possibly government regulation.

It turns out I don’t need to overthink this, which is good because thinking isn’t my strong suit right now. Every tiny response from Drew guides me like the world’s most intimate GPS system. All those months of studying his expressions, learning the meaning behind every quirk of his eyebrows, every subtle shift of his lips, translate into something deeper now.

It’s so easy to read his body, to go slowly, adjusting my angle, pace, and pressure until Drew makes these incredible sounds I want to record and play on a loop forever.

Being inside him feels like every nerve ending in my body just got an upgrade.

The heat and tightness make my vision blur at the edges.

I’d compared sex with Drew to seeing a black-and-white world finally in full color, but this feels like I’m experiencing colors I never knew existed.

I reach out to touch where we’re joined, tracing that point of connection between us with trembling fingers, drawing a moan from Drew that makes my heart stutter and my hips jerk forward instinctively.

I wrap my hand around his cock, and Drew’s whole body goes taut, his thighs trembling. His movements become more desperate as he rocks between my grip and my cock, gasping my name like a prayer.

I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than Drew like this, all that brilliant wit and sharp intelligence melting into pure need.

I need to kiss him right now more than I need to breathe.

I surge up, pulling him to me as I scramble for his mouth, swallowing his moans as he grinds down onto me with renewed intensity, my free hand splaying across his back to pull him closer.

Then, going purely on instinct, I hook his leg and flip us in one smooth motion so Drew’s beneath me. Drew’s legs wrap around me, his hands sliding up my arms, mouth finding mine again.

The need to go deeper, to claim every inch and lose myself in him, overwhelms me.

I balance on one elbow so I can brush his hair back from his forehead to see his eyes and watch every flutter of his eyelashes.

His face is transformed into something almost ethereal. Those brown eyes that usually spark with wit and intelligence are now dark and dreamy.

“Oh my god, Drew, you feel so good.” The words come out rough and reverent, barely recognizable as my voice.

Drew’s shoulders tense, and a flicker of hesitation shadows his expression, like he’s momentarily caught between pleasure and doubt.

I slow down, keeping one hand steady on his hip while the other traces soothing patterns along his side.

“Are you okay?”

His forehead is scrunched. “Yeah, I’m okay.” But he’s biting his lip, something uncertain still in his expression.

I kiss his bitten lip, bracketing his body with my own. Our kiss is sweet, a gentle exchange of breath and warmth.

Then I stroke his sides, running my hands tenderly along the curve of his waist, the skin of his inner arms, the muscles of his thighs, until he melts back into the mattress.

When I start to move again, I watch his face carefully, tracking every micro-expression that tells me exactly what he needs and how to make this perfect for him.

Drew’s whole body responds to my touch. When I change my angle slightly, he makes this broken sound that shoots straight through me, his fingers digging into my biceps. I press open-mouthed kisses along his collarbone, tasting the salt of his skin, feeling his pulse race against my lips.

I sense he’s getting close from the way his breathing changes, becoming more ragged, his hands clutching my shoulders with increasing urgency.

I wrap my hand around his cock, wanting to see him completely fall apart, wanting to be the one who takes him there.

I stroke him in time with my thrusts, watching in wonder as his usual composure splinters completely.

Drew’s orgasm is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever witnessed—the arch of his back, the way his fingers dig into my shoulders as he comes gasping my name.