The only time we slowdown is when I jacket up and push into her. Our kisses swallow each other’s gasps as she tightens around me—a desirous torture in and of itself—as I bury all that I can within her slick, merciless heat.

There is no thought of anything but driving to the endgame. Of fucking her into oblivion.

I try to hold still.

I try to go slow.

But Chase writhes against me, her teeth nipping my bottom lip, her heels digging into my ass, as she begs me to take her there.

“Fuck me, Gunner,” is the whisper in my ear, and it’s all I need to hear.

Nothing else matters except for her and me, and the way she looks as she lies back on the slab on her elbows, her tits bouncing with each thrust, her pussy growing wetter with each pull back out. She is so fucking hot.

Even sexier is when she slides her perfectly painted red fingernails between her thighs and starts working her clit from the outside, while I work her from the inside.

It takes everything I have to hold out, to not come, because Jesus fucking Christ. Does she have any clue how goddamn hot she is in that apron with the red of her nails against the pink of her pussy, and her eyes glazing over with pleasure? Does she have any idea how she feels wrapped around me?

There is no sweet seduction this time around.

No soothing words or gentle requests. It’s her and me and want that’s turned to greed and greed that’s given way to need.

The orgasm slams into her, robbing her of breath and tightening every damn thing in her body.

I’m not complaining, because that tightening, that writhing, that pulsing around me yanks me by the balls and pulls me over the edge.

“Chase,” I groan, losing all sense of everything other than the shockwaves slowly reverberating through my every nerve.

I rest my head against hers as our breathing evens out and our pulses decelerate.

“No regrets?” she asks. When I straighten up to leave her still propped on her elbows, she has a coy smile on her lips and one of her brows is lifted.

I chuckle. “Sorry. I had a conversation with Ellie today. We discussed basically how you only live once and have to do it with no regrets. I thought it seemed fitting.”

“I agree.” She pushes herself up and kisses me. It’s long and slow and void of the promise for sex, which I never knew could be just as much of a turn-on as when it did.

It means she wants me.

It means this is more for her too.

“Did you really bake me an apple pie?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at where it rests on the top of the stove.