I gasped, my back arching off the mattress when he brushed right against my prostate. “As far as I can tell the dick in question is still MIA.”

I knew I was playing with fire, but I was here to get burned to the ground.

He lifted an eyebrow and grabbed his cock, getting it right up against my entrance. “Oh. You want me to give you a better view.” He pushed in just a bit and I started shaking, desperate for it.

“No.” The word was one long moan. “I want to feel it. I want you to fuck me, Patrice.”

I brought my legs back, opening myself up to him.

He sucked in a breath and glided a shaky hand over my thighs. “Fuck. I’ve dreamed of this. This. How tight you are, how fucking good you feel.”

“Do it,” I said, thrusting to meet him as he worked himself inside.

He did.

Worked that cock in until I was so full I could only take short, sharp breaths. Once he was all the way in, he leaned over me and started moving.

“Easton.” He was panting in my ear as he moved, his hips circling in and out in a way that made me feel every inch of him.

“God, why is your dick so fucking amazing?”

He laughed and panted out, “You feel pretty damn good too, come on, make it tighter, baby.” I clenched around him and he rolled his eyes. “Awww, that’s so good. I swear, I could spend days fucking you.”

I knew this was just the moment, the pleasure, but I wanted to say things. Instead I clenched my teeth and let myself sink into how good he felt.

After a moment his thrusts redoubled and I felt that flooding in my groin when I was about to come.

I unhooked one of my arms from around his neck and starting stroking my cock. After just a few I felt myself going over. “I’m coming,” I muttered through gritted teeth.

Patrice nodded, slamming into me. “Good. Come on, cheri mwen, let me feel you.” His breaths were getting shorter and shorter, sweat dripping off his skin.

I gasped as my vision whited out, and in the distance I could hear Patrice moan as shudders coursed through him.

After a moment he let himself fall on top of me, slick with sweat.

His voice was muffled, but I heard him clearly when he said—with just enough remorse to make me cringe—shit.

If I’d had any sense of self-preservation at all when it came to Patrice Denis I would’ve gotten up then and walked out, but instead I lay there with my eyes closed, letting the exhaustion of the sleepless night and the afterglows of the mind-blowing sex take over.

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Easton