All The Ways To Ruin A Rogue(83)
His hand delved between them to cover her mound. He pressed the heel of his palm into her as he inserted one finger deep inside. She arched, her hands fisting into the bedding, hanging on tightly as if that was the only thing to keep her from launching off the bed.
He uttered nothing, watching her darkly as he ravaged her, hitting some unknown spot tucked away inside her and sending her flying apart with the stroke of his fingers.
She was still floating back down, her pounding heart slowing, hardly conscious of reality when she felt him at her entrance. The thick head of him entered her a fraction and then stopped.
She sucked in a deep breath, all of her nerves coming to throbbing and aching life where they joined.
Her gaze locked on his. Silence stretched between them, but words passed between them just the same. An unspoken communication. A wordless exchange conveyed in the question in his smoldering gaze.
She answered him by angling her hips and welcoming him into her body. Her hands slid down his back, nails slightly scraping warm flesh to stop at the curve of his spine above his backside. She pushed there, urging him on, propelling him to move over her, in her.
The tendons in his throat worked and his jaw clenched as he pushed the remaining length of himself inside her. He moved neither fast nor slow. He filled her with a steady thrust until he was lodged to the hilt, pulsing and big and shattering her senses.
Her mouth parted on a gasp at the burning stretch of her body to accommodate him.
Hissing air escaped between her teeth and her fingers ached from clinging to him. It was not entirely pleasant. It was not entirely bad either. He felt so foreign inside her, the sensation alien and a little bewildering.
And then he moved again, withdrawing and burying himself again, making her squeak and clutch, if possible, even tighter to him.
A ragged gasp escaped him and he dropped his head into the crook of her neck, his breath fanning hotly on her flushed skin.
Her thoughts spun, unable to grasp any one thought. There was only feeling. The overwhelming pressure of him locked deep inside her.
He lifted his head and snared her gaze again as he nearly slid all the way free of her body. The slow drag of his hard length made her arch and moan under him, the friction unbearable and not nearly enough.
“Camden,” she choked, pleading.
He drove deep again and she cried out in relief, but it was short-lived. She needed more. She didn’t understand how something could be so good and so not enough. She felt her core tighten and clench around him and delighted in his gasp.
His face was tense, his expression fixed almost in pain, his arms bracketed on either side of her head
She reached a hand to touch his face, tracing his jaw. “Wh-What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. This is the most perfect thing I’ve ever felt.” He followed his words by thrusting faster, harder, a shudder racking him. “You. You are the most perfect thing.”
“Oh.” Soft whimpers escaped her as his hands swept under her. Palming her back and dragging her closer, crushing her heavy breasts against the solidness of his chest.
She panted his name like someone possessed. Ripples overtook her, tremoring through her body.
He swept her toward that precipice, driving deeper. His hands dove downward and clenched in her bottom, lifting her hips off the bed and angling her in such a way that she felt everything, impossible as it seemed, better. More. Deeper. Her mouth opened on a silent cry as she jumped off some invisible cliff and flew out of her skin.
It felt as though she were looking down at herself curled beneath this beautiful man, his big body overtaking hers. He moved several more times until she felt him start to tremble. She stroked a hand down his arm, knowing he neared his own climax.