Inked on Paper - Nicole Edwards Page 0,73

her more than he was, Kora dug her fingers into his shoulders, pressed her back against the wall, and rolled her hips, changing the angle, allowing him to slide deep, then withdraw. In, out. Slow, gentle.

Shit. He was driving her out of her mind. She wanted him to fuck her, to make her come. This … whatever he was doing was too intense.

“Faster,” she encouraged, trying to ride him, thrusting her hips forward to meet his.

“Not gonna happen,” he said. “Not yet.”

Kora pulled back, staring into those emerald depths. For the first time, she noticed the passion burning in his gaze. It matched his words from earlier, and she knew he wasn’t going to make this fast and dirty.

Well, dirty, maybe, because he chose that moment to start mumbling words in her ear, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other beneath her thigh as he rocked his hips forward, back.

“So fucking tight, Kora. Your pussy feels so fucking good.”

His words caused her inner muscles to clench.

“That’s it, baby. Milk my cock. Take all of me, Kora.”

Her body tingled in places she hadn’t known could tingle.

Donovan lifted her leg higher, changing the angle once again. This time, he pulled back, putting a small amount of space between their upper bodies, allowing them both to look down to where they were joined.

His cock slid out, her juices glistening along his length in the dim yellow light. His hips rocked forward and he was inside her again, sucking more air from her lungs. God, he was so big, so thick … it was overwhelming. In the best possible way.

And suddenly, she never wanted it to end.

I needed a minute to switch points of view. Had to get inside Donovan’s head in order to get through this. As it was, I liked the interaction between them, the connection that was there, even if it shouldn’t be.

Donovan was sweating. Partially due to the lack of air flow in the small storage room, but mostly from the effort it required to hold back. He’d known the moment he was buried sheathed inside Kora’s sweet body that he’d been right.

Once … probably wasn’t going to be enough.

Goddamn. Donovan groaned. Fuck, she was tight. Her walls gripped him.

And now, as he watched his dick slide into her warm body, feeling her clasping him, milking him, pulling him deeper… It took a fuck-load of determination not to come like this was his first goddamn time.

He groaned when her muscles tightened around him. He wasn’t going to be able to go slow for much longer. He wanted to slam into her, to nail her to the wall, to make her beg him to send her over. As it was, those moans were sexy as hell, but if they weren’t careful, someone was going to hear them.

Not that he gave a shit right then. The only thing he cared about was the warm grip her pussy had on him.

“Need more, Donovan.”

He knew when to give in and now was that time. It was inevitable. It felt too good and the last thing he needed was to come before she did. Widening his stance and lifting Kora’s leg higher, he opened her wider as he glided his dick into her silky warmth once more. Without fail, his hips began a rhythm of their own, faster, harder, deeper. Donovan fucked her, his mind numb from the pleasure, his body soaring as Kora’s nails bit into his shoulders, her breathy moans filling his ears.

“Oh, God.” Kora gasped. “Donovan, oh, fuck. I’m … gonna…”

“That’s it, baby,” he said, pounding into her, harder, deeper. “Come for me, Kora. Come all over my cock.”

When her face contorted, Donovan slammed his mouth over hers, stealing her cry as her body convulsed, her pussy clamping down on him hard, drawing his release from him. He managed to stifle his own roar as he kissed her, a furious mating of tongues and teeth that didn’t hold a candle to the ecstasy that her body had wrought from him.

And before his heart rate had resumed a normal pace, before his lungs were replenished with oxygen, Donovan knew…

Once definitely wasn’t enough.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Jake

I wasn’t sure how I’d managed to sleep at all. After that brief text—or maybe it should be classified as sext—conversation with Presley, I’d been more worked up than ever. To the point that I’d had no choice but to take a shower myself. One that involved my soapy hand stroking my dick until I couldn’t take it

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