He didn’t let her come down.
The moment her first shuddering aftershocks began to fade, while he was still buried to the hilt inside her, his hands gripped her hips. In one powerful, fluid motion, he rolled them both. The world tilted, the floral pattern of the bedspread blurring before her eyes. Now she was beneath him no longer. Now she was on her hands and knees, the cheap mattress dipping under their combined weight.
He settled behind her, his heat pressing against her back. His hands smoothed over the curve of her ass, possessive and rough. Then one hand slid around her waist, up her trembling belly, over the frantic beat of her heart, and settled at the base of her throat. His palm was hot, his fingers long. They didn’t squeeze. Not yet. They just… held. A brand. A claim.
His othe
