“Put that other hand between your legs and suck, Callie,” he rumbles, his voice pure thunder to go with the lightning in his eyes. “Work it like you mean it.”
Oh, do I ever.
I’m scared I’ll barely fit the tip of him in my mouth and be able to breathe. But when I see his teeth bared and his head snapping back, Roland rolling his shoulders with a muffled curse, I take him to the back of my throat, halfway down his shaft.
“Callie, fuck!” he snarls, his fist tightening in my hair.
His taste, his heat, his everything assaults me in the best way.
I’m instantly addicted to his salty, masculine taste and the way his eyes pinch shut when I push my writhing tongue around the crown of his head.
He jerks in my mouth.
I jolt like he’s electric, working my mouth faster and harder, intent on burning him down.
I barely even need to touch myself, hand between my thighs and circling my clit, totally insane with watching Mr. Buttoned-Up come undone.
“Callie!” He rasps my name like a molten curse as his cock jerks in my mouth, tuned to my tongue.
I’m panting around him, sucking and licking and massaging his balls with quivering fingers.
I want to feel him come, to flood me, to fill me more than anything.
But I also can’t control my own senses whirling out of control, this sharpening ache in my body, this tightness in my core that’s about to—
Oh!
Oh, hell.
My fingers grind against my clit and I moan on his cock.
He realizes I’m coming even before I do, and I feel my hair pulling like reins in his hand. I look up just in time to see his eyes brimming with glorious blue greed to own me.
And he absolutely does as my vision goes white.
Then I can’t see anything at all except the hot blur of my O tearing through me.
Roland!
Roland. Fucking. Osprey.
I come until I can’t, losing his hardness as my head snaps up, all vibrating heat and total ruin.
Even as I’m coming harder than I have in my life, I hate him.
I hate him for making me love the way he detonates my body, for bringing certain ruin for every other single man on Earth.
How do I ever settle for mediocre soft boys after a single sheet-ripping night with this man?
How do I accept men who’ll never want me the way he does, and who won’t tumble me onto the mattress when I’m breathless?
He kisses me like I’m Sleeping freaking Beauty while I’m recovering.
Not the office fling who just came so hard she died with his cock in her mouth.
When I open my eyes, for a second, I’m worried.
Don’t be, his gaze says, so hot and sharp and adoring my heart flips over.
I kiss him again as his hands caress my body, languid and controlled, even though I know he must be insane with his own need to finish.
Flat on my back, I’m so distracted I barely notice when he pulls away and there’s the crinkle of the condom wrapper, the sound of what’s left of his clothes being kicked off behind him.
But then I can think of nothing else.
He’s there, against me, the thick heat of his cock parting my wet flesh to leave him poised at my entrance. Ready to split me in two.
Oh, shit.
His mouth brushes mine, and when I look up, I see eyes like the sky on fire.
“Hold the fuck on to me, Callie. You’re ready,” he whispers with total confidence.
I can’t do anything else.
His mountain of a body moves against me—asking, then demanding I let him in.
I’m instantly swept away by his growling desire as he sinks in, plunging his cock deep, making me feel every seething inch of him from the inside out.
It’s rough.
It’s so damn rough when I’m so tender and he’s so ridiculously big, blurring the lines between pleasure and pain.
Whatever this feeling is, it makes me crave more.
I rise to meet him, arching against him, nearly sobbing out how good it feels when he barely gives me a second to adjust.
Primal urgency hammers me apart in the flex and roll of his body as he finds his rhythm, slams in deep, reaching places no man ever has.
I’m going, going, gone.
Wild with need, reverted to part animal myself, thrashing against him just so he’ll hold me down and take me harder, harder, and God, I want to last, I want to hold on, I want to feel this forever.
But I can’t.
He’s strung me too raw, too tight, too close to giving up my soul.
Even as he captures my mouth with a low growl in a biting, hungry, jealous kiss I don’t fight.
I just scream against his mouth, digging my heels into him harder, straining as he lights me up so hard I’m ready to burn out—but not before the most intense O of my life slams me on my face.