Deviant (Boys of Winter #3) - Sheridan Anne Page 0,113
my head and before it’s even hit the ground, his hands are back on my body. I groan into him, needing his touch more than I need the air I breathe.
He’s so forceful, so dominant, so … everything.
I need so much more.
I grab his shirt and start tugging it over his head, and not wanting to waste a single second, Carver takes over and shrugs out of it, giving me exactly what I want. My hands drop to his warm chest, feeling his strong, ripped muscles beneath his tanned skin.
He’s simply stunning. He’s cut from stone in every possible way—mind, body, and soul.
He groans with my touch, and the sound is filled with such fire that it feels as though he’s been waiting a lifetime for this exact moment.
Every movement is filled with desperation, urgency, and passion. We've spent an eternity pushing each other away, letting our circumstances drive us apart, but we can't hold on any longer.
Our height difference makes it nearly impossible to keep going like this, so I’m not surprised when his strong arm winds around my body and he lifts me off the ground. My legs wrap around his narrow waist and as a soft moan slips from between my lips, his mouth drops to the sensitive skin below my ear.
“Oh, fuck,” I breathe, unable to find the words to describe just how badly I need him. I want him inside of me, I want his hands all over me, I want everything that he is to wrap around me and to never let go.
My nails dig into the soft skin of his shoulders, holding on as he steps back toward the massive mahogany desk and sets me down. He instantly leans into me, and I fall back against the desk, letting his weight settle over me. I refuse to unwind my legs from his waist or give him enough space for doubt to creep in between us. And just as well because like this, I can feel his rock-hard cock grinding against my pussy, needing me in the same intense, reckless way that I need him.
His hands roam over my skin as though he’s been dying to feel the soft curves beneath his fingertips all his life, and as he pulls back and looks down at me, his hand slowly trails down my body and slips into the front of my sweatpants.
I’m soaking wet for him.
His fingers graze over my needy clit, and I suck in a sharp gasp, my whole body flinching from the touch. The overwhelming need for more is almost too much to bear. I don’t dare look away from his intense eyes, especially as he finds my center and pushes two thick fingers deep inside of me.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
“Yes, Carver,” I breathe, knowing that in this very moment, I would do absolutely anything that he asked of me.
His eyes soften and I watch with a needy awe as his tongue rolls over his bottom lip. “I fucking love you, Elodie,” he murmurs just as his thumb presses against my clit and makes my body ache for more.
Emotion swells in my chest, and for just a second, I can’t say a damn word, too afraid that if I open my mouth to even breathe, the floodgates will open and this whole moment would be destroyed. But when he pushes his fingers even deeper and a sick, twisted smile plays on his delicious lips, I realize that I don’t need to say a damn word because he already knows. He knows how I feel, and now that he’s finally said what he’s been holding back for so damn long, nothing can stop him from having his wicked way with me.
And fuck it, I’d give him just about anything he asked for because I really do love him, and I’d give anything to feel this connection with him, to have his thick cock sliding up inside of me and stretching me wide, to feel his body pressed against mine, to turn our fucked up little relationship into something real. But with Carver, sex isn’t just about getting hot and heavy or coming hard enough to make me scream. It’s about the raw connection that comes with it. It’s about giving in to our most basic urges and admitting that this pull between us is real, that it means something, and that no matter what, I’m in it for the long haul.