My grip on his hair increased as I curled one leg over his. “Brock,” I panted, impatient.

He lifted his head, bringing his mouth to mine. He kissed me, and when he drew back, he caught my bottom lip between his teeth. The edge of the medallion he wore slipped between my breasts.

I lifted my hips. “Please, Brock.”

“I love hearing you beg.” His hand slipped between us. “But you don’t need to beg me for this.”

I jerked as he finally, finally pushed in, and I couldn’t let myself think about how long I had wanted this from him, how long I had waited. There was such little room for thought as I had to see this, experience only this. I opened my eyes and watched as he entered me. There was something wholly sensual about doing so.

His lashes lifted and his gaze pierced mine. I was unprepared for the feral, possessive stare. “Keep watching,” he rasped out. “Fuck. You’re tight.”

“I told you,” I gasped. “It’s been a really, really long time.”

His body shook as he held still, and then he thrust in until his hips were flush with mine, and I cried out, nearly overwhelmed by the burning feel of him. It was almost too much—the stretching and the fullness. I lingered somewhere between intense pleasure and pain, and it spun me around.

“I love that sound.” His lips moved over mine. “I’m going to make sure you’re hoarse and can barely talk by the time I’m done.”

And he did.

Brock started to move, and although it had been forever and it took a few moments to catch a rhythm, I pushed up with my hips as he pushed down. Our bodies moved in perfect sync. He caught my mouth as he planted one elbow beside my head. His hips swung and plunged, delving deeper and deeper, and the thrusts of his tongue matched his cock.

It started.

This deep tightening, a clenching of all the muscles in my body, and I was like a coil wound too tight. I whimpered as I lost the rhythm, my hips writhing against his and my nails digging into the taut skin of his back. I was close, so close I thought I’d die.

“Jillian,” he growled, his large and powerful body trembling.

I knew in that moment he was holding back and I said words I never thought I’d ever utter, and later, when everything was done, I would probably be mortified, but in that moment, I didn’t care.

“Fuck me,” I whispered against his lips.

It was like a cage was unlocked. Brock got an arm under my waist as he rose up, planting one hand on my belly, holding me in place as his hips slammed into me, lifting me up with each plunge. He went deeper and deeper, and I couldn’t move. He held me, and he . . . he fucked.