Growling under my breath, I slide off the counter, my hard cock dragging against her body as I grumble, “I need to fuck you now, Cozy.”
“Oooh, you called me Cozy. Someone’s feeling very confident with himself,” she sing-songs and giggles as I pull her behind me to the staircase in the foyer, feeling like I’m going to lose my mind any second.
“It was my White Claw comment, right? It makes me super relatable—” I silence her by wrapping my hand around her throat and pinning her up against the wall next to the foyer table right at the bottom of the grand staircase.
Her lips part as she releases a throaty moan, and her eyes fill with fiery passion in the dark foyer with only the light shining in from outside.
“This turns you on, doesn’t it?” I ask, my fingers twitching around her neck, holding her firmly but never squeezing. “Does this make you wet for me?” Her eyes close, and I squeeze her tender flesh a tiny bit more. “Answer me, sweet cheeks.”
“Yes,” she whimpers, pulling my hips into her as she arches toward me.
“Good girl,” I rasp, my heart pounding at the sensation of her pulse beneath my palm as I stare down at her chest heaving with excited breaths. “You like when I control you?”
“God, yes,” she cries, wrapping a leg up around my hip to grind her clit against my cock.
God, she really is so fucking good. A grunt vibrates in my chest as I thrust against her. “Do you feel how hard you make me?” I whisper against the shell of her ear and trail my lips down her neck, sucking lightly for a second, just barely resisting the urge to bite until she screams. “You smell like the fucking beach, and it drives me wild.”
“Max.” She pants out my name, thrusting her pelvis into me. It’s her next word that sends me into a frenzy. “Please.”
I release my grasp on her throat, and our hands collide as we wrestle with her jeans. She shakes out of them and tosses her thong as our lips collide in an erratic, desperate kiss. Our tongues swirl against each other as my cock pours out of my boxer briefs. I don’t even fuck with our shirts before lifting her onto the table beside us and spreading her legs wide.
Yanking her hips to the edge, I impale myself deep inside her, plunging to the hilt with all the finesse of a fucking animal.
Fuck, going bare inside her is another goddamn level. She’s soaked for me, her body accepting me like I belong right fucking here all day, every day. I have a carnal reaction to knowing I’m the only man who’s had her like this. I like that fucking feeling. I like it too much as I pull out of her slowly and slam back in.
Her cries echo off the vaulted ceiling as I press my head to her chest and watch our bodies connect. Her arousal drenches my shaft, showing me just how turned on she was by my hand on her throat. She grips my arms as I squeeze her soft thighs and look up, our eyes connecting as I pound her hard against the table.
Eye contact used to be my thing. I needed it to trust that the woman wanted me and wasn’t forcing a feeling between us. But I don’t worry about that with Cassandra anymore. She fucking bled for me at dinner tonight, opening up about something from her past that was raw and painful. There’s a vulnerability in her gaze that I’ve never experienced with a woman I’ve been with before. Not even Jessica. It gives me everything I need to trust that she’s in this with me. Tonight was the final missing puzzle piece, and now all the things I’ve been falling for in Cassandra make even more sense.
I see her fully for all that she is and all that I know she will be.
Her pussy clenches around my shaft as she screams through the climax that ravages her body in record time. It’s all the reassurance I need before I groan loudly and pulsate inside her—twitching violently as her sweet channel sucks every last drop from my cock.
Our heavy breaths are the only sound reverberating off the walls until Cassandra’s sexy voice croaks, “Yes, Zaddy,” and reminds me that there is never a dull moment with this woman.
“And then I did a walk of shame back onto his private jet this morning.” I cover my face with my hands and lean against the counter at Dakota’s T-shirt shop, unable to look my bestie in the eyes after I just divulged in great detail everything that happened to me in the past twenty-four hours. I had to stop myself from texting her today while I was taking care of Everly because this is not the kind of story you text a bestie.
I murmur into my palm, “I’m pretty sure the flight attendant was laughing at me.”
“This sounds like straight-up fiction.” Dakota slaps the counter, demanding my eye contact. “Except for riding home on a private jet in the same clothes. That’s not hot.”