thrust forward, impaling me on his thick length as he released my shoulders and gripped my hips roughly, pulling me back against him. When he slammed into me again, I cried out, my body catching fire.
His hands slid up my back, his fingers curling over my shoulders, his firm grip holding me still as he began to fuck me harder, faster, deeper. It was different from last night. Better, which I hadn’t thought possible.
I liked that Jake was losing control. I wanted all of him, every single part of him.
He slammed into me over and over, my moans and his echoing in the room. I was close. So close.
“Come for me, Presley. Milk my dick, sweetheart. Oh, fuck, baby.”
That did it. I flew over the edge, soaring into the abyss, coming so hard I saw spots dance behind my eyelids. But Jake didn’t stop; he drove deeper, faster, using my body for his own pleasure, and I continued to soar.
“Fuck, Pres. Gonna … come.” He grunted, slamming into me a few more times, his hands sliding over my ass, fingers digging into my flesh.
One last time and he stilled, his cock pulsing inside me, triggering another orgasm.
Minutes later, after he had disposed of the condom—thank God, he’d thought ahead on that one, because I hadn’t even thought about it until he had already been inside me—I was curled up against him, my head on his chest, thinking of all the things I wanted to do to his magnificent body.
“Good morning,” Jake whispered, his arms enveloping me.
“At this point, I think good would be an understatement,” I mumbled, smiling.
“True.” Jake’s lips pressed against my forehead. “Very, very true.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Jake
The writing thing was getting a bit easier, and I knew that was because of the point I’d reached within the story. That and the fact that Presley had given me the ultimate bribe—more sex with every chapter. Getting things moving along and tying up the ending were the hardest parts for me. The middle, where most of the action took place, that wasn’t so bad.
And I knew that I needed to take advantage of the fact that I was still at the cabin, away from social media and other distractions—aside from Presley, who was honestly the biggest distraction of all, but in a good way. But with Presley here, it seemed I was more comfortable. In my element.
So, I snagged a cup of coffee and dropped onto the couch with my notebook and my pen. I checked in with Kora and Donovan by reading the last chapter once more, adding a few revisions along the way.
Now, it was time to move them forward.
After hanging up on Donovan, Kora stared around her house, wondering what she needed to do. He obviously wasn’t going to listen to reason, which meant he was probably already on his way.
The house was clean, so she had nothing to do there. Which left her to look at herself, and that was when she realized she was wearing a towel.
“Great,” she muttered, making her way to her bedroom.
She didn’t want to get dressed, but only because she was too lazy to do so. However, with Donovan coming over, she had no choice. For some reason, Kora knew she would be weak when it came to him. After only an hour in his company, she was craving him in a way she’d never experienced before.
I could relate to that, oddly. Glancing down at the end of the couch, I noticed that Presley had made herself comfortable, once again wearing another one of my T-shirts while she read a book on her phone. She must’ve felt me staring at her because she moved the phone and smiled, her eyes glancing down at the notebook.
One chapter. That was all I needed.
I turned my attention back to Kora.
Since she’d spent the past two years in a relationship with Sam, Kora had grown accustomed to the routine. In the beginning, their relationship had been all sparks and flames, but that had fizzled out after only three months. She’d tried to tell herself that was the way relationships worked, only she’d known deep down that wasn’t the case.
Sam had never fanned the flames hot enough to ensure they wouldn’t burn out. Nor had she, so she couldn’t put all the blame on him. Maybe she had known all along that Sam wasn’t the right guy for her. It made sense in a warped sort of way. She had certainly never felt the sort of heat