Wild Love (Rose Hill, #1)(75)

I want to touch her. Feel her.

I remove my fingers from her mouth with a wet popping sound and press between her shoulder blades, pushing her lower as I lift her hips.

My eyes follow the motion as I draw out and slide myself back in.

“Ford,” she murmurs, and her eyes flutter shut from where she’s laid out flush against the desktop.

“Should I stop?”

“Don’t you dare.”

I thrust again, hand roaming. Her back. Her hair. My fingers link with hers.

I grip her ass, I pull her hair, I fuck her like I hate her even though I don’t.

“Is this what you needed, Rosie? Someone to fill this tight little cunt? Fuck all the fight right out of you?” My words come out choppy, breathless, as I pound into her. The desk scrapes the floors as we push it forward. “You going to settle down once I make you come on my cock?”

Her ass shakes with the force of my thrusts, and she chuckles. “You going to stop following me around like a sad puppy once you finish flopping around back there?”

I slap her ass and watch a handprint bloom on her pale skin. The hint of a tan line from last summer just beside my mark. She moans and rolls her forehead against the desk. I grunt on a forward thrust, getting off on the way she squirms. Loving the way she bites back. “That was mean, Rosie. And no. You’re stuck with me. Give me all that bitchy attitude. It just makes me love you more.”

The words slip out before I can stop them. They hang between us, heavy—an elephant in the room. I slow my motions as silence descends between us.

She finally lifts her head and looks back at me over her shoulder. Eyes glazed, cheeks glowing. I expect her to hear my words and run away. To move us back into familiar territory. Put us back on even footing.

But her voice comes out hushed when she says, “Okay, now I want you to flip me over and fuck me like you love me.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE


ROSIE





I don’t know why I expected my request to be met with a laugh or a smirk or an eye roll. That’s how Ford and I operate—that’s us. Being honest? Being nice? It’s new and uncharted, and I don’t know what to make of it.

But he does.

He doesn’t miss a beat, helping me to my feet and turning me to him. His chest is hard against mine, his hands are gentle on my cheeks, and he kisses me like he can’t get enough. It feels like he wants to be touching me everywhere he can.

Kissing. Stroking. Undressing me. He whispers my name against my skin like a prayer, and before I know it, I’m naked, seated on the desk, and he’s dropping to his knees before me.

My knees part and I revel in his sharp intake of breath as he pauses to take me in. The way his rough hands slide up the insides of my thighs before hooking my legs over his shoulders. And the way his eyes flash up to mine as he drops his head closer to my core.

I feel exposed and vulnerable as he stares, just looks at my spread pussy for a few beats. Eyes twinkling like I’m the most exciting thing he’s ever seen.

I almost combust on the spot when he growls, “Oh fuck yes,” before lifting his gaze, smirking his stupid, cocky smirk, and then kissing my clit. A deep groan rumbles in his throat as he tastes me for the first time and my eyes roll back in my head.

I’ll be replaying that noise in my head forever.

He starts slow, but neither of us has any restraint. Our fervor is on a constant upswing. My hips push forward, begging for more. His tongue presses into me, and my fingers grip his hair yanking him closer.

I broke every speed limit to get to you.

His teeth graze along my pussy, and my head tips back.

There’s nothing funny about the way I want you.

His fingers slide in as he sucks, and my legs clamp around his neck.

It just makes me love you more.

He twists every ounce of pleasure from my body, his free hand blazing a trail of heat up over my stomach, strumming my nipple as he works me over.

“Ford!” I gasp his name as my orgasm hits me like a freight train. Hard, fast, and relentless. My body shakes as I come apart around him. I hold him just as tight as he holds me.

When the waves subside, he pulls out his fingers and stands over me, hand cupping my cheek. “What I meant to say earlier is I’m fucking obsessed with you and I have no idea how to handle it.”

At those words, I reach forward, wrapping my hand around the root of his hard length that juts out above the waistband of his underwear. Every hot, hard inch of it. It’s huge, and I know I’ll be feeling it tomorrow.

His head drops as he kisses my cheek. It hits me that I’m totally naked and he’s not. I’m fully exposed, and he’s not.

Except maybe he is.

I shed my clothes, and he shed all his barriers.

I run his head, the pearl of cum beading there, over my pussy and moan at the feel. His hands graze up over my ribs, and he holds my breasts reverently. Cupping. Squeezing. Then twisting on my nipples as I swipe him across my already sensitive clit and murmur, “What else? Tell me more.”

I want him to feel just as naked as I do.

“What I meant to say earlier is I’ve dreamed about this.” I drop my head to his chest and breathe him in. So have I. The thought filters through my mind and I recognize its truth.

“What I meant to say is I missed you like crazy this weekend.”