Page 129 of The Underboss's Secret Twins

My jaw clenches, my hands digging into her hips, holding her still while I fight to breathe.

She’s so tight, so warm, her body wrapped around me like she was made to take me.

"Fuck, Sofia," I groan, pressing my forehead against her shoulder, dragging my hands up her back. "You feel so damn good."

She gasps softly, her hands gripping my arms, her nails scraping over my skin as she adjusts, as she takes me deeper, fully, completely.

I tilt my head back against the headboard, watching her, watching the way her lips part, the way her head tilts back as she breathes me in.

I reach for her face, tilting her chin back down so she has no choice but to meet my gaze.

"Look at me, baby."

Her silver eyes lock onto mine, still hazy, still dazed, but there.

"Feel that?" I murmur, rolling my hips up just slightly, making her gasp, making her shudder.

"Yes," she whispers.

I smirk, dragging my lips over her jaw, her ear. "Good. Now move for me."

Her breath catches, but she listens.

She lifts herself slowly, her body squeezing around me, making both of us groan as she starts to ride me, finding her rhythm, her movement.

I watch her, watch the way her body rocks against mine, the way her breath hitches, the way her thighs tremble as she moves up and down, taking all of me.

I grip her hips, guiding her, helping her, meeting every roll of her body with an upward thrust, deep and slow and torturous.

"That's it, baby," I whisper, dragging my hands up her back, over her shoulders, down to her breasts, cupping them, rolling my thumbs over her nipples.

She gasps, her hands flying to my wrists, her nails biting into my skin.

"Marco—"

I chuckle darkly, pulling her closer, pressing my lips to hers.

"Try again, sweetheart," I murmur, nipping at her lower lip, teasing her. "Who’s inside you right now?"

Her breath catches, her eyes flashing with something dangerous, something heated, something I want to burn in.

"Marco!"

I groan, my hands tightening on her as she picks up her pace, rolling her hips harder, faster, finding that perfect rhythm, that perfect friction that makes both of us shudder.

"That's right, baby," I whisper against her lips. "Keep going. Just like that."

She whimpers, her body squeezing around me, her movements becoming more desperate, more frantic.

I groan, tilting my head back, feeling the heat coiling low in my spine, the need to take over threatening to snap my control in half.

But I want to watch her first.

I want to watch her fall apart in my lap, want to feel every inch of her tremble around me.

If she keeps this up, though, I won’t be able to hang on for much longer. And I want her to see how she looks right now—hair messy, lips open, skin flushed, eyes burning. I could worship her. Idoworship her.

Her body moves over mine, slick, hot, and so fucking tight, gripping me like she never wants to let go. Her nails dig into my shoulders, her moans falling from her lips like a prayer, like she’s losing herself completely in the way I’m filling her, stretching her, owning every part of her.