Page 37 of Love on the Edge
Her fingers tighten in my hair, her body jerking when I slide my fingers through her slick folds. She’s not waiting. She’s not teasing.
She’s rolling her hips, grinding down, chasing the friction, pushing harder, faster, until her breath is nothing but a sharp, uneven gasp.
I bite down on her jaw, dragging my lips to her ear. "This what you need?" My voice is rough, guttural.
She barely nods, one hand braced against the locker, the other fisting my shirt.
I don’t wait.
I unfasten my jeans, free my cock, and lift her. Her thighs wrap around me, her core hot and wet against me, making my jaw clench.
I pause, grip tightening on her waist. "Val—"
She knows what I am asking.
"Pill," she gasps out, nails biting into my shoulders. "I’m on it."
That’s all I need.
I thrust into her in one smooth stroke, her tight heat stretching around me, pulling me in, stealing my fucking breath.
She gasps, her back arching, legs locking tighter around my waist.
I freeze for half a second.
Then she moves.
Her hips roll, her body tight, desperate, clenching around my cock like she can’t get close enough.
I slam into her, hard, fast, unrelenting. The metal lockers rattle with every thrust, her breath stutters, her nails drag down my back.
She holds on like she needs something to anchor her.
Or maybe she is the one drowning.
Her core squeezes around me, thighs trembling, muscles flexing, moans swallowed against my skin.
Fuck.
She’s already close.
I feel it in the way her entire body locks, the way she shudders, the way she completely fucking falls apart around me.
That’s all it takes.
I bury my face in her neck, teeth biting down, cock throbbing as I follow her over the edge.
I hold her there, panting, shaking, both of us wrecked.
She’s still clinging to me, her fingers tangled in my hair.
Then she exhales and pushes lightly against my chest.
I already know what is coming.
She straightens her clothes, avoids my eyes. And then she walks away without a word.
Like this wasn’t everything.
