“I know you want that omelet, and let me tell you, I make a damn good omelet.” His knee spread my legs further apart, and I braced myself on my forearm. “You’ll have a mouth orgasm once you have the pleasure of that omelet.”

There was a good chance I was about to have an orgasm now.

Brushing my hair over my shoulder, he pressed a kiss at the base of my neck. “But how in the hell do I walk away from this?” His fingers did something truly sinful with my breast, and my hips pushed back again, and it happened. I don’t know how. Call it an act of God, but the very tip of him slipped in. “Damn,” he groaned, holding himself still. “Fuck the omelet.”

In a heartbeat, he was inside me, buried all the way.

“Reece,” I cried out, my body a riot of sharp, splintering sensations. From this position, the fullness and length of him was so much more.

“I love the way you call out my name.” He kneaded my breast as he began to move, his hips pumping slowly and hitting every nerve ending my body was blessed with. “Do it again,” he ordered, his voice settling over me like velvet.

I did it again.

Pleasure licked across my skin as I rocked my hips back against his. Dragging his hand down my stomach, he thrust in, sealing my body to his as he shifted, positioning me on my knees. The feeling of him behind me was intense, overwhelming and wonderful.

I rocked my hips back against him, shivering at the sound of his approval. His grip tightened and then he started to move, his pace fast and hard. My hands slipped across the bed, reaching the spindles in my headboard. I grabbed them, holding on as he slammed into me.

My head was swimming. I couldn’t make sense of where his body ended and mine began. We were both moving frantically until his strong arm slipped under my breasts and he hauled me up. My hands hit the wall above my bed, and his hips pistoned up.

Reece was totally in charge as his hand cupped my chin, guiding my head back and to the side. His thumb dragged over my lower lip, and I caught it, sucking it in deep.

He shouted something that would’ve blistered the ears of sailors and then he brought my mouth to his. His kiss—­the way his tongue stroked mine—­was no way near as fast as he moved inside me, but it was in no way less beautiful or devastating.

“I want to feel you come,” he said, his voice rough in my ear. “Do it for me, Roxy.”